Tuesday night, there was an incident in Toronto you've probably heard about between Brett Lawrie and Bill Miller. Brett Lawrie is a baseball player, and Bill Miller is a baseball umpire, and not Bill Mueller, who was a baseball player. You can read about it here, and I'm linking myself because I play dirty on the Internet. The short of it: Lawrie took a 3-and-1 pitch in the ninth that was probably a ball, but it was called a strike. Then Lawrie took a 3-and-2 pitch that was probably a ball, but it was called a strike. Upset beyond control, Lawrie lost it and slammed his batting helmet by Miller's feet. The helmet bounced up and hit Miller, which is basically an automatic suspension. Lawrie continued to argue and say unpleasant things until he finally made his way off the field.
Watching that happen, my first thought was, "wow, Lawrie is really mad." My second thought was, "you shouldn't do that with your batting helmet." I also had thoughts about the strike zone, and Bill Miller, and how much mad is permissible mad, and then dinner, and then a beer. Eventually I had thoughts about the Mariners. Thinking about the way Lawrie reacted, I realized that the Mariners don't have a guy like that. They don't have a player who would flip out the way Lawrie flipped out, although it was surprisingly not long ago that they had Milton Bradley. And Josh Bard. Josh Bard had a temper. That got me thinking about the way various Mariners would react to the same situation. Following, I speculate. I speculate because I don't actually know the Mariners, and when you don't know actual personalities, it's fun to ascribe made-up personalities.
Remain stoic and expressionless. Take pitch, think about first base, hear call, process call, think about dugout, return to dugout. Give no indication that anything objectionable has happened, or that he's alive inside.
Turn away from umpire and stare off into space while walking to the dugout. Convey passive-aggressive disapproval.
Smile that smile he always smiles and return to the dugout smiling. It is a lie smile - the smile is the opposite of the way that he feels - but Figgins has this down to a science.
Pause, remain by batter's box, casually explain how and why the umpire is wrong, and walk away leaving the vague impression that the umpire should double-check the locks on his doors at home.
Grimace and slow head-lift. The classic reaction to something unfortunate by reserved white people.
Thank the umpire for the opportunity and cartwheel back to the bench.
Exaggerated, imploring eyebrows. It would almost all be in the eyebrows.
Glum wordlessness. For a player who has very little in common with Dustin Ackley, Jesus Montero seems to have a lot in common with Dustin Ackley.
N/A; impossible circumstance
Emotional throwing of arms in the air, jerking the body such that Ryan's helmet slips further down over his eyes as he walks to the dugout talking to himself.
Pretty much the loudest possible "FUCK", causing Dave Sims to remind the audience that during a competitive baseball game, sometimes the broadcast will pick up competitive noises.
Quick flash of disagreement, indicated by flinching of arms, followed by quiet composure.
Walk away, eyes to the sky, chewing with mouth open. Chewing with your mouth open is the most aggressive form of chewing.
Take pitch, look back, hear call, and drop into a quick squat in the batter's box before standing up and leaving dejectedly.