A less-than-intellectually-inspired Tracy Ringlosby column today about Ron Washington
and the Rangers [I’ve deleted Ringolsby’s unnecessary paragraph breaks
because I think readability is more important than faux drama]:
Washington is an engaging personality. He has developed a strong bond
with the Rangers players in his three years on the job. He’s even won
over most of the critics he once faced in the Dallas-Fort Worth media
because of his straightforward approach. But some things can’t be
ignored. Washington crossed that line last July when he dabbled with
cocaine. Washington and the Rangers tried to cover it up. They could
not, however, hide it forever. And it finally came out on Wednesday . .
. Face it, there was enough concern over what Washington did that the
manager and the team tried to hide it. They were exposed this week and
tried to put on a happy face. It’s called whistling in the dark.
Was this really a “cover-up”? Because from where I’m sitting, it was a
situation in which an employee’s drug test results were kept in-house.
Which is exactly what should be done with employee drug tests. Indeed, model
federal drug-free workplace guidelines set forth pretty strict
confidentiality rules for this sort of thing absent express written
consent by the employee to the contrary (which is why PED results are released for players). For their part, the Rangers
can do whatever they want with this stuff, but I’m guessing that they
don’t have an “issue press release when drug test results come back”
policy. Nor should they.
But hey, maybe Ringolsby has a point here. To prove it, I’m going to go
ask FOX and whatever bankruptcy receiver has possession of the Rocky
Mountain News’ old files for copies of Ringolsby’s employee drug tests
dating back to, oh, 1978 or so. I’ll let you know if I get them. Or if,
as was the case with Ron Washington, a cover-up is afoot.
Emotions are apparently high all around baseball, not just in Miami. In Toronto, the emotion was anger between the Yankees and Blue Jays.
Josh Donaldson was hit by a Luis Severino 1-1, 97 MPH fastball with one out in the bottom of the first inning. In the top of the second, J.A. Happ threw to fastballs back-to-back that were up and in to Chase Headley. The second one hit him. The Yankees, understandably, were not too happy about it, but order was quickly restored and play resumed with home plate umpire Todd Tichenor issuing warnings to both teams. The Yankees would finish the inning without scoring a run.
In the bottom of the second, Severino began the inning with two up and in fastballs at Justin Smoak. Both Severino and manager Joe Girardi were ejected and the benches emptied again, this time with more anger. There was some yelling as well as some pushing and shoving.
It doesn’t appear that Severino appeared to intentionally hit Donaldson, but he very clearly intended to retaliate against Smoak. Happ has issued retaliatory beanballs before in defense of Donaldson. He did so on April 23 against the Athletics. Donaldson hit a home run in the second inning and was hit by a Liam Hendriks pitch in the sixth. Khris Davis led off the next inning for the A’s and Happ hit him with a pitch. Plus, Happ’s two pitches to Headley were both up and in.
Severino and Happ are likely looking at fines. There’s a possibility of suspensions as well. Happ, however, was not ejected from the game.
As expected, the Marlins and Mets paid their respect to pitcher Jose Fernandez prior to the start of Monday night’s game at Marlins Park. It was emotionally charged and very tough to watch without becoming a sobbing mess.
The stadium was as quiet as a library even before the P.A. requested a moment of silence. The Marlins’ players rubbed the chalk line, just as Fernandez used to do. The starters — sans starting pitcher Adam Conley — rallied around the pitchers’ mound. The Mets’ players poured out onto the field and removed their caps as the National Anthem was played.
Once the anthem was completed, the stadium remained quiet. The Mets and Marlins formed lines and went through hugging each player. The fans began chanting, “Jose, Jose, Jose!”
The rest of the Marlins joined the starters and they wrapped around the edge of the dirt on the pitcher’s mound. Some of them drew in the dirt with their fingers. Others rubbed dirt on their pants. Then, they huddled and Giancarlo Stanton gave a motivational speech of sorts. The players came in close and they all put their index fingers in the middle, pointed up at the sky, and broke the huddle to begin the game.
There is crying in baseball.