There's fighting, and then there's this...

Any sports fan has already seen the footage of last night's Peoria Chiefs-Dayton Dragons bench-clearing fight.
As a former player who has seen a few "incidents" over the years, I can say this fight was just like any other...except for one part.
Two things to keep a eye on; part one is easy. Watch the Peoria pitcher take the ball and wing it toward the Dayton dugout.
Part two - keep an eye on the Peoria coach and check out the look on his face when he realizes the throw ended up flying into the stands and off the face of some fan. After that, in my opinion, it's just your run-of-the-mill fight.
Here you go:

Good afternoon, and welcome to Yankee Stadium...

Although I didn't arrive home until 9:30 p.m. Tuesday night, I did manage to keep my eyes open long enough to watch the remainder of the All-Star Game.
As the game moved into extra innings, it reminded me of my first-ever trip to Yankee Stadium...

August 22, 1976. I was 7.

On what I remember as an extremely hot Sunday afternoon, the Yankees hosted the California Angels in the finale of a three-game series. The Angels were well-mired in the second division of the AL West and boasted a starting lineup full of players who weren't even household names in their own home: Dave Chalk, Terry Humphrey, Bob Jones and Tolia Soliata, just to name a few.
The Yankees, meanwhile, featured Lou Piniella, Thurman Munson, Chris Chambliss, Graig Nettles and Willie Randolph not to mention starting pitcher and future Hall of Famer Catfish Hunter and were on their way to winning the AL East.
Oh yes, I almost forgot. It was Bat Day. And we're not talking "Yankee Bat Day, brought to you 7-Eleven", some prefabricated piece of recycled pulp the stadium workers hand to you on your way out of the stadium. I mean the 34-inch, 32-ounce, Mickey Rivers model that found its way into my hands as I passed through the turnstiles on my way to box seats about 10-15 rows behind the third-base dugout. I held onto the bat well into my teens until I finally snapped it around the trunk of a tree in the park behind my house simply because I wanted to see what it felt like to get jammed.
If only I'd been patient enough to wait until I started playing pro ball, I'd still have it.
Future memories not withstanding, the game turned into a real snoozer as Catfish Hunter didn't make it out of the 7th inning (a rare occurrence at the time) and left to at least 50,000 boos with the Yankees losing 4-0.
With the help of the Toyota Bullpen Car, out stepped some reliever I'd never heard of named Ron Guidry. Little did my 7-year-old mind realize I was watching a guy who two years later would go 25-3 and win the Cy Young. But this was the Guidry of '76.
So after unceremoniously allowing the two baserunners he inherited from Hunter to score to make it 6-0, he served up another pair of runs in the 8th. By the time the Yankees came to bat in the bottom of the ninth they were trailing 8-0 and most of the fans had left.
But not us. Well, I should say, not me. While my parents were all for heading home, I was steadfast in my desire to watch the entire game. Deep down, I must have known a rally was in the works.
Angel pitcher Frank Tanana had owned the Yankees for eight innings, giving up just two hits. But in the ninth he finally ran out of steam. Miraculously, New York scored eight runs in the bottom of the ninth to tie the game, the final two coming on a home run by Roy White. Somewhere in the deep recesses of the New York Times library there is a front page picture of White stomping on home plate as the fans cheered. Well in the background you can see me, shirtless, holding my Mickey Rivers bat high in the air in celebration. (It should be noted that Tanana won 19 games in '76. Had he or his bullpen been able to hold an 8-run lead, he would have been a 20-game winner for the first and only time in his career.)
When the game moved into extra innings the Yankees brought Sparky Lyle into pitch, a man I’d coach with some twenty-plus years later. In the 11th, however, the Angels pushed three runs across the plate and held on to win 11-8.
Over the years, I had a chance to attend a number of games at The House That Ruth Built, including the opening game of the '81 Series, but I will always remember my first trip to the Bronx as the most exciting.

Money, well...spent

Laziness sets in during teen years

"One of the largest studies of its kind shows just how sluggish American children become once they hit the teen years: While 90 percent of 9-year-olds get a couple of hours of exercise most days, fewer than 3 percent of 15-year-olds do. The National Institute of Child Health and Human Development funded the research, calling it one of the largest, most comprehensive studies of its kind to date. "

"The latest study...tracked about 1,000 U.S. children at various ages, from 2000 to 2006."

7 years to figure out teenagers are lazy? You gotta be shittin' me.

If you are one of the individuals who has helped fund or sent a special donation to the National Institute of Child Health and Human Development...boy did you get screwed.

And if any of my tax money unknowingly went toward this "National Institute", I want a refund.

My bad

My apologies to all eight of you who voted in the All-Star poll for not including "neither" as one of the possible selections.

Suicide watch for Bud Selig

It's 12:35 p.m., EST (11:35 p.m. in Hippo Central)

Do YOU know who's going to win the All-Star Game?

Points to Ponder

As I watch the Home Run Derby, I have come to the following realizations:

(1) Josh Hamilton is pretty damn good, and he didn't even win.
(2) I can only pray I'm able to throw batting practice at age 71.
(3) Joe Morgan needs to go away. I don't necessarily care where, just as long as he goes.
(4) Bring on The British Open.

Yes, I'm alive

For the small number of you actually reading this...I'm back.
After flying back to Hutto on the 6th, I spent an extremely uneventful week preparing for a ride to San Antonio for Team RBI's latest tournament.
And it wasn't pretty.

Game 1 - Lost - 8-0.
Game 2 - Lost - 13-2.
Game 3 - Lost - 11-5.
Game 4 - Lost - 5-1.

There's nothing quite like sitting in 100+ degree temperatures getting your ass kicked over and over and over. And over.
The only highpoint of the weekend was the fact that my truck survived the 2-hour drive there and back.
Actually, I need to retract that statement.
The true highlight occured during our Game 3 loss. I caught the opposition's first base coach stealing signs from our catcher and verbally relaying them to the hitters. Oh, the score was already 7-0.
So after our pitcher served up Ball Four to yet another hitter, I walked out to the mound and told our catcher to cover up his legs a little more.
When he asked me why, I pointed over to the 1st base coach and said, "so this jackass stops stealing the signs."
With the coach now looking at me, I leaned over and said, "that's how guys get hit."
If you know anything about baseball, you know exactly what I'm saying.
Unfortunately, the base umpire didn't, and promptly asked me if I was "threatening the other coach."
"No," I said, somewhat calmly. "I just wanted to let him know I know he's relaying signs and that I don't appreciate it. If he's a 'baseball guy', he understands."
Honestly, I really don't care if the guy understood or not.

An artwork's place of honor

An interesting twist to working two weeks worth of baseball camps in New Jersey is that I get to stay at my parents' house. They've made a few changes to the place in the last 20 years - new kitchen, new downstairs bathroom as well as adding a ton of plants and trees to the backyard to ruin what was the best wiffleball field in town.

However, one major staple has remained. In the downstairs bathroom hangs a drawing my father found irresistible. It's always been there. And they've lived in this house for more than 30 years.

So thanks to the power of the scanner, and without further adieu, I give you, "Eight Chins."

If you have ever been in my parents' home and used the facilities, you know you counted.

If not, I invite you to check. They're all there, trust me.

This week's dead giveaway that the end, in fact, is at hand.


Starbucks to shut down 600 stores
[ Full story Video Vote Discuss