A question to ponder over the post-World Series winter: How was it that Joe DiMaggio--a high school dropout whose favorite reading material was Superman comics, a man who was a lousy father, an unfaithful husband and a wife beater, a guy who was reluctant to enlist in World War II, someone who never did a meaningful day's work in the last 47 years of his life, who was monumentally vain and cheap and mistrustful--became a national hero?
Simple. He could hit and throw and run with a gliding grace, and when he could no longer do those things he...well, he...
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