I’m too old to stay up for the way they schedule games today, but yesterday I put the Yankees on the 3-hour timer and went to bed. Somewhere in the fog I got that it didn’t look good, though I didn’t hear the final. Later, fitful in the night, I figured how it was 50 years since the 1968 Tigers, something I hadn’t thought about, though I’ve often cited that season as a major event in my life (if a 6 month season can be an “event.”) I looked it up and it turns out that today is the 50th anniversary of the Tiger’s World Series victory. It’s as far away from now as the end of WWI was to then. Time sure do go by. The game was played during the daytime on a weekday. I remember rushing back from school and catching the end on TV at a friend’s house, as the Tigers beat the unbeatable Bob Gibson. After that I recall running across Gratiot Avenue, the big street I wasn’t allowed to cross by myself; all rules were off, it was just crazy…