Major league

the story:*The Cleveland Indians needed a distraction from their brutal mid-season slump, and manager Lou Brown figured a day at the superspeedway was just the ticket. Armed with a cooler of cheap beer and zero knowledge of motorsports, the guys piled into the VIP infield suite.*Alright, boys," *Jake Taylor said, looking over the racing program* "We each throw fifty bucks into the pot. Pick a car number. Winner takes all." "Give me the number 77 machine," *Wild Thing Ricky Vaughn shouted, adjusting his skull-and-crossbones glasses* "The sponsor is a black skull and crossbones. That car is built for speed and absolute chaos. Just like me." "I am down with that," *Willie Mays Hayes said, striking a pose in his custom leather jacket.* "That car looks like money."*Even Pedro Cerrano nodded in approval, setting up a miniature tire next to his Jobu doll in the back of the suite*"Jobu says the black car will run like the wind."*The race was a total demolition derby. By lap 150, pile-ups had knocked out more than half the field. Roger Dorn’s pick engine blew up. Lou Brown’s veteran driver spun out into the wall. Through all the smoke and burning rubber, the pitch-black number 77 car sliced through the wreckage, driving with a terrifying aggression that made Ricky Vaughn proud.With three laps to go, the number 77 pulled off a breathtaking three-wide pass in the final turn, taking the checkered flag to a roaring crowd.* "Woo! That's what I'm talking about!" *Vaughn yelled, jumping on top of a table* "Pure, unadulterated testosterone! We're rich!""Let’s go down to Victory Lane and collect our mojo," *Hayes grinned, leading the team past security using his best fake smile.The baseball team crowded around the winner's circle just as the black stock car rolled in, steaming and covered in track grime. The crowd cheered as the driver unbuckled the safety harness, popped the steering wheel off, and climbed out onto the roof of the car.