[SelzShoes]

"What the hell are you doing, trying to get on this train," MacPhail's slurred words and discolored eyes told all one needed to know about his condition.

Joe McCarthy stood on the steps, just waiting to get back to New York. Extra innings on getaway day was rough on everyone. MacPhail was making it impossible. "Larry, just let me on, we'll talk about it when we get back with Topping and Webb. . ."

"Going behind my back are you!" The mood flashed from intransient to violent at the mention of his co-owners' names. MacPhail reached for Joe's shirt in an attempt to intimidate the manager. His swipe missed, and the already teetering drunk fell to the platform in a soft pile of a man.

McCarthy walked up the stairs of the train, "We need a couple husky porters down here."

After recovering from the initial shock of the fall, Leland had risen to his hands and knees. "You fired McCarthy. That's what you deserve for losing to that s---hole team. You're fired."

The Yankee manager slipped the porters a five each, instructing them to take Leland to his berth. "We'll talk about it with Webb and Topping in New York Larry."