Top of the 6th, Rangers 3, Mets 3, Umpires 2 (allocated on this day to the Mets).

That's not heat nor humidity in the air. That's tension. Or perhaps the desire of the Dutch Oven.

Angry words have been exchanged like a fake number given out by a reluctant woman at the last second from a wayward matchbook.

And the 2-2 pitch...

Whoo! Who's your Mr. Met now, baby?!

Nope.

But FOX TRAX?

Nope.

...

(bad words) YOU'RE BAD AT YOUR JOB! (bad words)

Whoever said that, YOU. ARE. OUTTA HERE!

Me?

You throwing Mike Maddux out of this game, blue?

Uh...

YOU. ARE. OUTTA HERE, ALSO!

Hmm...

Alright then...

Jackie! Better wake up, you're the skipper now.

Huh?

Oh yeah, right.

So who's it gonna be?

What's that?

I tossed one of you. Who's it gonna be?

You tossed Wash.

...

Hang on.

Terry, I tossed one of their guys. Who do you want?

Pardon?

Pick a guy.

You're letting me pick which member of the opposing team you will eject from this game?

That's right.

.......................................

/Baseball

Epilogue: