Meet the screwballs in charge – pitchers Warren Spahn and Lew Burdette of the Milwaukee Braves, a righty and a lefty joined at the hip, both who felt Casey Stengel tried to railroad their careers as young pitchers. Meet the sluggers -- Henry Aaron and Eddie Mathews, two teammates whose opposites were extreme, but whose differences brought them closer together instead of ripping them apart. And meet the beer swiggers -- Milwaukee, the town, the team and the time -- the first team to relocate in the 20th century, the first team to come to a new market, move into a new stadium and draw 2 million a year -- led by a visionary owner named Lou Perini, a construction man whose blueprints for baseball's future were liberally imitated by young Bud Selig, who grew up in Milwaukee during the High Life years of the Braves.

This is the story of baseball's greatest underdog -- the team that stopped the New York City baseball dynasty, when the Big Apple wore the World Series crown for eight long years. The rest of the country wanted a piece of the action, too, and Milwaukee's heartland tailgating, fan base and hometown support proved that small markets can win, too, if you build it right. In 1957, the Braves beat Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford and the rest of the Yankees in seven games, with Burdette and Aaron leading the way, upsetting Stengel's baseball machine, and making him regret the moment he came to Milwaukee and dared utter the phrase, "This place is bush league." Author John Klima tells this fascinating story in Bushville Wins! Here is an excerpt:

Milwaukee sportswriter Lou Chapman caught a cab from the Commodore Hotel in New York City to Yankee Stadium. It was a miserable, murky October day and the city was in a lousy mood. The Yanks were trailing the Series and now the news that had been anticipated for months was finally official -- the Brooklyn Dodgers were outta here, off to Los Angeles. The cabbie was beside himself. First it was the Giants now it was the Dodgers. This had all started when the Braves moved from Boston to Milwaukee. He couldn't imagine New York City as a one-team town. Who would the Yankees beat up on?

Tough break, Chapman said, but everyone knew it was coming. The ballplayers had all day to think about it. Tarp covered the field and a steady rain wiped out the workout before Game 6. Manager Fred Haney confidently predicted the Braves would win in six while Yogi Berra assured New York this thing was going seven. The big question for manager Casey Stengel was if Mickey Mantle could play. "I dunno," he said. "We sure need the kid but if he ain’t fit to play, nothing we can do."

One thing was for certain: the Yankees weren't so worried that it got in the way of a good time. Lou Chapman caught another cab back to the hotel later that night. While at a stoplight, he glanced at the cab next to him. There was Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford ----faced in the backseat and having a blast. It became one of Chapman's favorite war stories. "They exchanged greetings," Chapman's son Richard said. "But then again, those guys probably told him to ---- off." But they probably had a smile on their faces while telling Chapman off.

Mantle liked Chapman enough that he allowed him to visit his hotel room for an interview. Chapman wanted to know if Mantle could play. Mantle, laid up in bed, several sheets to the wind, was blurry, bloodshot, and hung over, but he was a helluva guy. Mantle respected how Chapman went the extra mile to get the story. They didn't call Chappie "Gumshoe" for nothing. Mantle mumbled a vow that he would be ready to play. Then his eyes glazed closed and he blacked out. Chappie, sport that he was, made sure that the photograph taken of him interviewing Mantle while he was completely hammered was never published. He saved the photo for the rest of his life. That was the way of the world then. Good writers and good ballplayers trusted each other.