I hate to say it, but Aroldis Chapman was wrong to throw at a player's head

 (With respect to HoraceClarke66, whose opposing views are below...)

For these last four weeks - actually, these last few years - the Tampa Devil Rays have wantonly thrown baseballs at their chosen arch-nemesis, the NY/Tampa Yankees. They "live on the inside of home plate," their manager's poetic way to describe bean balls. But it's not a literary thing. It's a thug thing.

Last night, you could say Aroldis Chapman - our "Water Cannon" - gave the Tampons a taste of their own Lysol. With two outs in the ninth - ("Clobberin' Time," Ben Grimm would say) - El Chapo fired a 101-mph fastball at the head of pinch hitter Mike Brosseau. Somehow, he ducked. From there, the usual events happened: Benches cleared, bullpens emptied, fingers flashed, threats echoed - a mini-COVID super-spreader event. Tonight, they'll probably do it again; that's what helmets are for! Any trip to the 2020 World Series must surely pass through Tampa.

Let's note here that the Rays organization has traditionally hated the Yankees with the heat of a billion suns. We steal their market by playing spring games in their back yard. We broadcast games on Tampa's WHBO (1040 AM), the Yankee radio network driven by Jeep. How galling is that? I still remember the spring of 2008 when a Tampa warm body named Elliot Johnson flattened Francisco Cervelli at home plate in an exhibition game, breaking the young prospect's wrist, an event so foul that MLB later declared it illegal. Yet the Rays horrifically defended it. (Thank God for Shelley Duncan, who came up swinging a few games later, after spiking a Tampa infielder in the balls. It's part of history, folks. We. Never. Forget.)

That said, the Rays last night had a point: There is no reason for a guy like Chapman to throw at someone's head. If Brosseau hadn't ducked, he could now be in a hospital, and - beyond all rightful concerns about his health - the Rays would have a martyr for the 2020 post-season. 

For some time now, I've worried about Chapman. He is a fierce competitor, a warrior, a powerful presence on the mound. But he can unravel at any moment. There's something about his crazed eyes - watching him sweat makes me sweat. Last night, he could have made his point by whacking Brosseau's knees. (The Rays would still squawk; that's what they do.) But throwing at the head is a bad idea, and I'd hate to think of DJ LeMahieu getting drilled tonight.

Baseball doesn't need its version of Kenosha.