Atlanta pitcher Julio Teheran insisted he didn’t mean to plunk Washington’s Bryce Harper with a pitch two innings after the 2012 NL Rookie of the Year homered. Harper – and everyone else connected to the Nationals – wasn’t buying it.
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Third baseman Kris Bryant could have flown to New Jersey and sat in the dugout of the MLB Network set with other top draft prospects. He could have invited local media to his Las Vegas home to record his reaction. He did neither.
As Major League Baseball ramps up its investigation into performance-enhancing drugs to more than a dozen major league players, three-time AL MVP Alex Rodriguez quietly rehabs his surgically repaired hip at the Yankees’ minor league facility in Tampa, Fla., with plans to return in the second half of the season with “a lot of unfinished business.”
When I was 12, I knew all the umpires. Shag Crawford. Emmett Ashford. Nestor Chylak. Satch Davidson. Augie Donatelli. Tom Gorman. Bill Haller. Chris Pelekoudas. Ron Luciano. Frank Pulli. Ed Runge. Marty Springstead. Harry Wendelstedt. Big Lee Weyer, who sometimes during a rain delay would join Jack Brickhouse in the broadcast booth and perform card tricks.
