"Washington" never cared about deficits, of course. But since the days before Klein was even born Republicans have found great success deploying the word "deficit" in targeted word-repetition assault campaigns to convince Democrats to relinquish social programs in order to achieve the greater utopia of "balanced budgets" that Republicans can in turn use as an excuse to cut taxes and divert tax dollars to their friends in the security contracting business.

I witnessed a similar situation in Denver with Jake Plummer and a local media that couldn't hide their John Elway-induced boners. Nothing Jake ever did was Elway enough: the way he played, the way he looked, the way he talked. This media obsession essentially swayed public opinion away from Jake and his three straight playoff appearances, and he was benched mid-season with a 7-4 record. The Broncos haven't made the playoffs since.

Later that night, we head to a downtown bar. There, he begins telling a story. It was the day of Game 7 of the 1997 World Series. The Cleveland Indians were favored to finally end the Curse of Rocky Colavito, to bring a title back to northeast Ohio. Raab's friend wanted to make sure all the forces of the universe were aligned with them, so he formulated a plan. A crazy, unhinged plan. Only in Cleveland could one demented citizen come up with something so desperate and strange. He'd visit the grave of Ray Chapman -- the only major league player ever killed by a pitched ball and, naturally, a Cleveland Indian -- and on the tombstone, he'd place a coin.

This is where Raab begins sobbing, wiping his eyes with a red bandanna, embarrassed, trying to get himself under control so he can finish the story. He changes the subject, composes himself and, 15 or so minutes later, continues.

When his friend got to Chapman's grave, he found it covered in coins.

That is Cleveland.

Then the Indians lost in the bottom of the 11th.

That is Cleveland, too.