Watch where you point that thing

Word trickling out of The District is that Wizards’ players Gilbert Arenas and Avaris Crittenton had a standoff (literally) in the team’s locker room over a money dispute. Just a day after a blizzard blanketed Washington and a few days before Christmas, Arenas reportedly drew guns on each other.

Parking space dispute, perhaps?

“This is unprecedented in the history of sports,” Player’s Association Executive Director Billy Hunter told the New York Post. “I've never heard of players pulling guns on each other in a locker room.”

The truth is the snow in Washington provided the impetus to a lot of gun play. A few days before the Wizards turned their practice facility into the NBA version of Tombstone, a D.C. police officer brandished his sidearm during an organized snowball fight at 14th and U because, according to the story, his Hummer was pelted with snowballs.

For the life of me I can’t figure out why anyone would want to throw a snowball at a Hummer. I understand if maybe someone wanted to drill a few at the jackass driving the obnoxious ride, but not the vehicle itself—after all, a Hummer is an inanimate object...

Just like its owner.

Nevertheless, the apparent showdown between teammates isn’t the surprising part. The truth is stuff like that happens all the time only before Arenas and Crittenton decided to act like cowboys, athletes used to settle their differences with hand-to-hand combat. The strange part is that something like this happened with Washington players when the murder of Redskins’ star Sean Taylor is still fresh in everyone’s memory.

Taylor’s murder came just 11 months after Broncos’ cornerback Darrent Williams was shot and killed by gang members after an altercation broke out at a party thrown by Nuggets’ star, Kenyon Martin.

So gun play, violence and supercharged testosterone-laden atmosphere that pervades the pro sports locker rooms is nothing to make fun of. If the events of Dec. 21 went down as described by the New York Post and Washington Post, then Arenas and Crittenton can expect a long suspension.

At least.

However, if it’s the confrontation between two grown men playing pro sports for a living, well, yes, that’s funny. Take the threat of gun play out of the alleged incident in Washington and it’s hilarious.

Better yet, that type of stuff happens all the time.

Remember the time Charles Oakley threw a basketball at ex-Sixer Tyrone Hill before a game because, as the story goes, Hill wouldn’t repay a gambling debt in the proper and timely, “gentlemanly” manner? Or what about when ex-Phillies’ closer Jose Mesa attempted to drill Omar Vizquel with a pitch every time he faced him for disparaging remarks in the shortstops’ autobiography?

Then again, those Phillies teams in an atmosphere fostered by manager Larry Bowa, were always a couple of six-shooters away from turning the clubhouse into the OK Corral. Fights, threats, verbal assaults and a general nasty atmosphere were the norm. Tyler Houston was waived (essentially) for being friends with Pat Burrell; Robert Person was exiled by injury and clashes with the manager; and Tim Worrell, as the story goes, punched out pitching coach Joe Kerrigan.

And those were just a few of the run-ins with those old Phillies that did not involve Brett Myers, who nearly had his own fisticuffs with Kerrigan, the Inquirer’s Sam Carchidi, and a few teammates—not counting Cole Hamels during last November’s World Series.

Incidentally, the infamous run-in with the scribe reached a head when Myers hurled the insult, “[Bleeping] retard!” In the wake of that, Myers apologized to “retards,” but not Carchidi.

Then there was the time in 1997 or 1998 on a team charter flight where Ricky Bottalico leapt over a few rows of seats with fists flying at Curt Schilling’s head. Apparently Bottalico had grown tired of warning Schilling not to throw empty beer cans at his head and decided a few punches would solve the problem quicker.

[Note: Schilling says it was Bottalico who threw the beer cans and the legend is true, only in the reverse]

According to the legend, the famous line from the incident was when Bottalico lunged at Schilling muttering, “…I’ve waited three years to do this…” as the players and coaches rushed to the center of the plane to break up the fight.

Apparently the seat belt rule doesn’t apply to big-league charters.

Baseball, though, is known for team discord. The Red Sox of the 1970s and ‘80s were famously known not because they challenged for the pennant every year, but because of the “25 cabs for 25 guys” label. Recently, the Brewers and Giants have mixed it up in the clubhouse or dugout over on thing or another. Chalk it up to a long, 162-game season, six months of travel, and close quarters. Unlike other sports, baseball players spend way too much time together.

Still, the Bowa era Phillies weren’t at each others throats so much. They were more unified in a battle against the coaching staff, going so far as to commandeer a bus that was to take the team’s traveling party from Olympic Stadium to the Montreal airport so they could hold a players-only meeting late in the 2003 season. More of an airing of the grievances than a constructive, point-by-point search for a solution, the players reportedly decided their goals should be to win just to spite the coaching staff.

As history shows, it didn’t work out that way.

Of course a team doesn’t have to be unified in order to win. The Oakland A’s of the early 1970s won it three years in a row and they couldn’t stand each other. The 2006 Cardinals not only won the World Series, but featured a sideshow in which manager Tony La Russa and third baseman Scott Rolen reportedly didn’t speak to each other in some sort of junior high-styled spat. The 2002 Giants almost won the World Series even though David Bell, Jeff Kent and Barry Bonds allegedly nearly came to blows in the dugout during a game.

Of course any team with Schilling has to have some sort of acrimony amongst the uniformed ranks. Just look at that 1993 Phillies team and what happened shortly after Mitch Williams gave up the home run to Joe Carter. All those guys did was snap at each other in the press.

So whatever it is—money, egos, fame, jealousy, too much machismo—pro sports is no different than little league.

Just keep the guns out of it and there’s nothing a handshake and a cold beer won’t cure.

Saturday night is alright for fighting

It was a simpler time when I was growing up. No, this isn’t to say we walked to school uphill through the snow (both ways) every day or anything like that. In fact, the walk to James Buchanan Elementary School was probably a mile round trip. Sometimes it was longer depending if there were other post-school trips that had to be made. We played a lot of different sports and games back then and the way it goes with kids is that sometimes there are disagreements. When a compromise of an impasse could not be reached logically, well, sometimes we had to throw down. We weren’t tough kids or anything like that and the fisticuffs weren’t a regular occurrence. But when it was time to go, everyone knew how to handle themselves.

The games were stopped, the disagreements were handled, and a conclusion to the problem was reached. Grudges rarely lingered away from the field or court – in fact, as soon as the business was taken care of, we went right back to the game continued from the spot where we left it.

This wasn’t for the backyard games, either. We handled things similarly in little league games, too. One example was in a baseball game in fifth grade when I was drilled square in the back by a pitch from a kid in my neighborhood. This one didn’t get away from him either – the pitcher definitely hit his target, which was the area on my back between my shoulder blades.

I imagine a few words were exchanged on the way to first base, especially since the pitcher “borrowed” my bike earlier in the week and didn’t return it. Needless to say there was some bad blood simmering between the two of us, but who knew it was going to rear its head on the ball diamond?

Everything was cool for a few minutes until I took a short lead off first, looked over toward the mound and sure enough, here came another one high and tight…

Yeah, that’s right, a beanball at the runner on first… in a fifth-grade little league game.

This one got my right arm and dropped straight to my feet. Now it was my turn. I picked up the ball and fired it right back toward the pitcher, but missed wildly. The ball sailed way past third base and past the cinder track that ringed the diamond. But by the time anyone saw where the ball had landed the pitcher threw his glove at me (which I caught) as I ran toward the mound and with the rest of the players from both teams quickly following.

Oh yes, it was on.

Now could anyone imagine anything like that happening now without an arrest or stupid parents getting involved? When all was settled the pitcher and I apologized, shook hands and everything was settled. Yeah, we were kicked out of the game, but that was that. As quickly as it started, it had ended.

Another sport we played throughout my youth was boxing. We had gloves (or pillows) and everything. Tournaments were set up, weight-classes defined, alliances formed and bouts promoted and hyped during school.

Who knows what we would have done if we had video games instead of boxing gloves.

Now what’s the point of these stories? What does it have to do with anything?

Well, nothing. Not really. We were well versed in conflict resolution and had acquired the street smarts to realize when a fight was going to break out. We also knew about boxing, too. It was a sport we understood as well as baseball, basketball or football. We talked about the fights, the fighters and watched matches on television when we could.

Marvin Hagler, Thomas Hearns, Sugar Ray Leonard, Roberto Duran, John Mugabi, Barry McGuigan, etc., etc. … We watched them all.

These days… not so much.

Boxing is certainly a niche sport these days and it seems as if it is out-of-date in the technological world. Worse, there are probably two or three fights every year that capture the public’s interest. This is despite the nice relationship the sport has with HBO.

One of those fights was last Saturday night when “pound-for-pound” star Manny Pacquiao fought overhyped Brit Ricky Hatton. There were tons of interesting storylines before this fight which HBO explored in its 24/7 series, but if you blinked, you missed the fight.

It lasted six minutes and most of that was spent with Hatton on the canvass.

But what’s the deal with the fight game these days and can part of boxing’s problems be related to those kids today? Apparently it’s a lot easier to block someone from a Facebook profile than it is for kids to duke it out on the schoolyard.

And who’s to say which way is better?

Dancing, not fighting, the night away

If I had my way, you know what I'd do? Form a big circle and see who wants to fight. I've seen that before and nobody fights. -- Charlie Manuel

The silliest occurrence in sports is the baseball fight. Nothing gets accomplished aside from a lot of posturing, some shoving and maybe some bruised egos. The goofiest thing about baseball fights is that they often begin with the pitcher throwing a ball or making some sort of gesture from a sizable difference from his combatant. As a result, the players have to travel a distance to get at each other.

It’s kind of like when the British navy declared war on the Falkland Islands during the '80s, hopped in the boats and harrumphed, “We’ll see you in six days! It’s on!”

As well as behaving like one island country attacking another island located in a different hemisphere by water vessel, baseball fights are like sumo wrestling. One guy does his dance to call out the other dude, who in turn strikes his pose. When the histrionics are complete, they dash at one another, bump bellies and fall to the ground.

The really absurd part comes when players dash from the dugouts and bullpens in order to mill around with the other guys. It’s kind of like watching a mosh pit at a Neil Diamond show.

Be that as it is, the Phillies and Braves – more specifically, Shane Victorino and Braves’ reliever/lunatic, Julian Tavarez -- did the tango during the eighth inning of last night’s debacle of a ballgame. With the Braves leading by six runs, Victorino at third base and left-handed pull-hitter Matt Stairs at the plate, Tavarez suddenly dashed off the mound to chase Victorino back to the bag. The curious thing about that move wasn’t the fact that crazy, gangly Tavarez just started running off the mound toward third base. Certainly that was an odd sight, because when has anyone ever seen a pitcher chase after a base runner just before he was getting set to go into his windup?

Never. It’s never happened. Ever.

Anyway, with the third baseman playing in the shortstop spot with Stairs at the plate, Victorino was given the chance to take a generous lead. But out of the corner of his eye, Tavarez caught Victorino turn to talk to third-base coach Steve Smith and figured it was his chance for a stealth attack.

The problem with that tact was there were 41,000 people sitting in the stands screaming at the sight of the weirdo running off the mound toward the runner leading off third. Not to mention, Smith clearly saw the not-so covert mission and alerted Victorino.

If it had ended it there it would have been enough. Victorino could have gone back to taking a gigantic lead, Tavarez could have threatened to run off the mound again, and the whole cat-and-mouse game could have taken the next step.

If only it were that easy.

Anyone who has ever seen Shane Victorino play baseball or had the chance to chat with him in the clubhouse can quickly determine that taking the easy way out of things just isn’t his style. It’s not uncommon for Victorino to miss a sign, throw to a wrong base or good-naturedly tease a teammate over something rather pedantic. The mouth and mind are always moving with that guy, which, frankly, is quite entertaining.

So when Tavarez did his about face to return to the mound after his little dash, it didn’t take a systems analyst to figure out that Victorino was going to say something. Actually, make that a lot of things.

Meanwhile, Tavarez has a history of on-the-field meltdowns. During his 16-year nig-league career, Tavarez has served a handful of suspensions for sparking brawls and once had to wear a protective glove in order to pitch in the 2004 World Series after he punched a dugout phone during the NLCS.

I guess the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing.

Anyway, Tavarez has played for 10 different big league teams, including three in 2008 alone. One of the thing one quickly learns after spending a bunch of seasons around a Major League club is that if a guy bounces from team to team there is usually a pretty good reason he doesn’t stick around with just one team. Meanwhile, Tavarez reportedly had two ambitions as a child growing up in poverty in the Dominican Republic. One was to be a Major League Baseball player (mission completed) and the other was to be an adult film star…

Yeah.

Tavarez was in no mood for amore as Victorino continued to chirp. After the speedy Phillie gestured toward the pitcher, seemingly inviting him to take another run at him, Tavarez did just that.

And then it was on!

Well, kind of. Tavarez was quickly pushed away by the home-plate ump while Stairs and Smith blocked Victorino’s path giving him the perfect chance to fall into a “hold me, back! Hold me back!” display. Not to be shown up, Tavarez did the same as players spilled out of the dugout and rolled in from the bullpen.

Order was quickly restored when the slightly rocking mosh pit dissolved under its own silliness.

Afterwards, neither Victorino nor Tavarez made themselves available to deconstruct the events with the local press. However, when asked about it, manager Charlie Manuel seemed rather disgusted by the whole act, or at least the notion of exiting his spot in the Phillies’ dugout where he more than likely finally fashioned a warm and toasty groove into the padding over the rail where he likes to rest his arms. Then he had to get out onto the field to separate a bunch of guys who were out there to do nothing but sashay with one another in the first place.

Sheesh.

“That was nothing,” Manuel spat. “If I had my way, you know what I'd do? Form a big circle and see who wants to fight.

“I've seen that before and nobody fights.”

It looks like the Phillies have a little more than a tango left if they want to fight their way into the playoffs this weekend. With a magic number steady at three with three games to go, all the Phillies have to do is beat the Washington Nationals this weekend. Failing that, they have to hope the Brewers and Mets lose, too.

Last year all the variables worked out.