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As a kid in Little League, I personally experienced a coach’s tantrum some – ahem – 50 years ago. I wasn’t much baseball player. I was nearsighted and slow of foot so they put me in right field. And with the lowest batting average in the league, when I came to bat it was usually my coach who was on the verge of a tantrum. In my last game of the season, in my last “at bat,” true to form I struck out. In fact I swung at final pitch so late that the catcher was already reaching out across the plate before I finished the swing. As a result the bat caught him on the back of his head on the follow-through. I suspect that the impact stunned more than hurt him, but that didn’t prevent his beet-faced coach from roaring out of the dugout, swearing at the top of his lungs and heading straight for me. My coach interceded on my behalf…sort of. He succeeded in keeping me alive, but I was ejected from the game. I don’t think I ever played again. I’m not sure what that taught me about “sportsmanship” but it pretty much soured me youth sports.