Logan Morrison got into a fight with a baseball bat. The bat won.

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Logan Morrison popped out with runners on base in the fifth inning of yesterday’s M’s-Rangers game. He got mad at himself. Then he got mad at his bat. Specifically, he slammed the bat against the dugout wall. The bat shattered and a piece of it flew back at him, hitting him above the eye. He had to leave the game and required five stitches. John Buck — who has never played first base before — had to take over.

Not the smartest and most mature move of all time, and Morrison seemed to know it after the game. From Ryan Divish of the Seattle Times:

“Obviously I acted like a 3-year-old,” he said. “I apologized to my teammates. I’m about to go apologize to Mac. I can’t do that. I didn’t want to come out of the game. They saw me gushing blood from my eyebrow and they took me out. I’m embarrassed. No matter how bad I’m playing, I can’t do that . . . I usually don’t snap,” he said. “I usually don’t play this bad, either. But I usually don’t snap.”

I suppose that’s better than punching a concrete wall and breaking your hand. Which several players have done in the past.

Morrison is, presumably, day-to-day.

Kirk Gibson home run happened 30 years ago

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With the Dodgers trying to make it back to the World Series for the second year in a row — and trying to win it for the first time in 30 years — it’s worth looking back at the last time they won it. More specifically, it’s worth looking back at the signature moment from the last time they won it. Which, really, was one of baseball’s all-time signature moments.

Yep, I’m talking about Kirk Gibson’s famous game-winning home run off of Dennis Eckersley of the Oakland Athletics in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series, which happened 30 years ago tonight.

All playoff magic for anyone too young to remember Bill Mazeroski’s homer in 1960 is measured against Gibson taking Dennis Eckersley downtown to turn a 4-3 deficit into a 5-4 win. Heck, even if you were around in 1960, it’s far less likely that you saw Mazeroski’s homer than it was for you to have seen Gibson’s. Nationally broadcast in prime time to a nation of millions who had not yet fragmented into viewers of hundreds of obscure cable channels and various forms of streaming entertainments, it was a moment that sent shockwaves through the world of sports.

For my part, I was fifteen years-old, sitting in my living room in Beckley, West Virginia watching it as it happened. Like most of the rest of the country, I was convinced that the Dodgers had no chance to beat the mighty Bash Brothers and the 104-win Oakland A’s. Especially given that the Dodgers’ leader, MVP-to-be Gibson, was hobbled and not starting. Even when he was called on to pinch hit, I had no faith that he’d be able to touch Eckersley, the best relief pitcher on the planet, let alone hit the ball with any kind of authority.

But, as Vin said when he called it, the Dodgers’ year was so improbable that, in hindsight, it made perfect sense for Gibson to have done the impossible: