Currency devaluation

Nobody ever walked out of the old bandbox commenting on the gem just twirled by the portly portsider. Really. That's just the way sports deskers fit the elongated yellow fruit of their craft into the merciless space left after the ads were sold. (On the other side of the room, ire was stoked as bus slay punk was bailed and thousands fled blaze.) So there's a bit of nostalgic charm in awakening to a perfectly preserved relic of the past -- sort of like seeing a triceratops on the front lawn, rubbing the painful bruise on its head and looking around for its wallet and keys.

The top of the picture is included here for scale. There's actually room there for "to defeat Twins" or something equally mundane, but that's really another point. "Gem" doesn't yield to an exact definition, though we expect a lot out of it: if not always a no-hitter, at least a pretty good shutout and/or minimal hits. Not -- with all regard to anyone who increases the odds of the blimp being overhead for October night classes -- giving up two runs in 6 1/3 innings. I'm all for the sound of ash against horsehide, of manual typewriters, of rotary-dial phones being slammed down on the hopes of press agents, but let's have a little respect for the game here.