Yankee Stadium, sometime in the 1930s

Marse Joe McCarthy entered the clubhouse and placed a fatherly hand on the should of Joe "Flash" Gordon, his fine young second baseman.

"Joe, don't bother suiting up today."

Gordon looked stricken.

"What?  Why not?  What I do, skip?  I know I missed that hit-and-run sign the other day, but I did bunt in the winning run, hit an inside-the-park-homer and got 15 assists in the field.  Why, if it's that pitch I got hit with that's got you worried, the guys at Columbia-Presbyterian only hadda drill three holes in my skull to relieve the pressure—"

"No, Joe, it's not that.  I want you and DiMag to take the day off, so you can be fresh for the All-Star Game.  I know we're playing the second-place Tigers and all, but it's a 20-hour train ride to St. Loo, and I just want to make sure you'll be tip-top for it.  Don't worry: I'm putting Billy Knickerbocker and Myril Hoag out there today."

Gordon and DiMaggio both looked crestfallen, while in a dreary, distant corner of the clubhouse, Hoag and Knickerbocker's faces shined like those of little boys, just rescued from a well.

"Well," said Gordon, dropping his head.  "If you say so, skip."

"Sure, I say so.  Then I say you should lie in the ground and bake bagels."

The clubhouse exploded in laughter.  The Yanks always loved McCarthy's wonderful Yiddish insults.  Flash Gordon looked sheepish while McCarthy tousled his hair.

"Of course you guys are playing!  Whattaya think?  Detroit's only 16 games back.  I got you penciled in for both games."

He looked over to Knickerbocker and Hoag, who now looked crestfallen in their turn.

"And Billy, Myril.  It's 103 degrees out there.  I'm thinkin' somebody's gonna see some pinch-running if the nightcap goes extra innings!"

Hoag and Knickerbocker fell wrestling to the floor, each trying to damage the other's hamstrings.  McCarthy smiled fondly at them, then turned back to the nine Yankees all-stars selected for the game.

"Some good news, boys—on the level:  the Colonel's sending along a free case of beer from the brewery, for the train trip to St. Loo.  Just his way of saying...good job.  Now get out there and tear those Bengals a new one!"