Word: sox
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Always the city of prolific pitchers--even if the Indians' management trades them away before they blossom--Cleveland is the American League East's spoiler. The cellar team that comes to town and leaves it dirty, snapping triumph from the jaws of sure defeat. Ask the Red Sox. They've been frustrated by the Cleveland Indians since any Boston fan can remember...
...Sitting in limbo," Carlton Fisk said a day before his team moved into a first place tie at the end of 1978's 162nd game. Sitting in limbo, still, it seems with closet injuries looming before the Sox as impending doom. What if Fred Lynn gets hit by a cherry bomb , if Burleson runs into a hungry boa constrictor in Texas? The Yankees always could catch up, the Red Sox could break into a strongend-of-the-season stride, and the O's could die in a plane crash. The American League East is no place for betters...
...Sox, the 1979 season--despite its feeling of one day-at-a-time caution--has the kindest offerings of any in recent history. This is the first season which hasn't taken its toll on Lynn, Hobson, and Burleson--or burned out its pitching staff-before the stretch rolls around. In fact, the team--with the important exception of Fisk--is in its best health ever. The pitching staff has not performed beyond anyone's expectations, but neither have they backed down. New faces like Steve Renko have been struggling for recognition right from February 15, and they have produced...
...check. No pulled groins on this ball club, no pulled ripcords. While Zimmer insists that he is doing nothing differently this year, everyone knows it's just ego. Behind Zimmer's ego is not an ounce of superego, just a whole bunce of id. Id like the Red Sox dugout exploding onto the field after they win the 1979 American League East title; id like the Boston Globe printing a photograph of his dough-and-steel visage on their front page above a smiling Yaz: "We killed 'em," the headline quotes Zimmer; id like a city holiday and a parade...
Bill Lee--that old gonfalon of Red Sox past--once said that Zimmer had to pass his driver's test before he could manage a professional baseball team. But gerbils just don't drive--they sniff and sneak and scurry their way out of the maze. And if the O's are demolished in a plane crash, (or if Earl Weaver sniff too much glue), then Don Zimmer's beady eyes might finally sit still at the end of the season. Besides, Zimmer is the right man for the job. In the American League East, a rodent's instincts...