You've probably heard stories about a manager coming to the mound -- like in the "Bull Durham" scene -- and talking with his pitcher about his dinner plans ... or something else absolutely unrelated to baseball strategy.

 

Sometimes those conversations actually take place. A manager might want to take the pressure off his pitcher, and often the best way to accomplish that is through humor, which can take your mind off the pressure-packed task for the moment and enable you to refocus. Pressure drains from your body after a good laugh -- laughter has great value in that regard.

 

Sometimes those humorous on-the-mound situations involve more people than your manager -- perhaps the catcher or the pitching coach or other infielders. And sometimes the humor is unintentional. Here are my Top 5 odd mound moments from my 16-year career as a major-league starter (plus a bonus story).

 

5. A lesson learned

When I was with the Los Angeles Dodgers, manager Bill Russell yanked me from a 1996 or '97 game after only five innings. We were ahead 3-2, and I was making pitches and getting out of jams. I was upset at being lifted so early.

 

The next day, I came to the clubhouse and said, "Skip, I've gotta talk to you." He closed the door and our conversation became animated. I started yelling at him, "You don't know what you're doing -- you don't know how to manage a knuckleball pitcher!" When I was finished, he asked, "Are you done?" I said, "Yeah." And he said, "OK, I'll see you out there."

 

I started yelling at him, "You don't know how to manage a knuckleball pitcher!"

My next start was a day game in San Diego against the Padres. It was hot, and by the eighth inning I was done -- you could've stuck a fork in me. We had a three-run lead, as I recall, and suddenly the bases were loaded with no outs ... and Russell didn't have anyone throwing in the bullpen.

 

Well, I understood his unspoken message: I'm calling the shots, and if you say you want to stay on the mound, fine -- but you're not getting any help this time.

 

I finally got out of the inning (giving up just one run). I met Russell in the dugout and told him, "I think I've had it this time. I'm done." He asked, "You think I should get someone up in the bullpen and pull you out of the game?" I replied, "yeah," and he said, "OK" -- and that was that.

 

The moral of the story is that the manager always has the hammer, and he can make life miserable for you or he can protect you when that's needed. As a pitcher, once you take the mound, you're focused like a warrior, and sometimes you don't see the big picture -- like which relievers need to get in and get some work, what the matchups are, who's done what against who, etc.

 

4. An obvious question

I pitched for the Oakland Athletics in 1998 and '99, and one day I was facing the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. The situation was: runners on second and third, two outs. I had just struck out Jose Canseco, with Fred McGriff coming up.

 

After striking out Canseco, I was pumped up and ready to go ... but then pitching coach Rick Peterson came out of the dugout. He said, "I know you don't want me out on this mound, but Art Howe sent me here to let you know that there's an open base (Howe was the A's manager)."

 

 

McGriff

 

Rogers

I looked at him and said, "You can turn around and go back to the dugout now and tell skipper I said, 'Thanks for reminding me.'" I couldn't believe it -- I had 14-15 years of experience in the big leagues at that point, and he was reminding me that there was an open base!

 

After the inning, my teammate and fellow starter, Kenny Rogers, asked me, "What did Peterson say to you?" I replied, "Well, he told me that Art wanted to remind me there was an open base." Rogers said, "You're kidding me!" And we both laughed.

 

After the game, Peterson must have apologized to me 10 times for having to do that -- but he reminded me it was the manager's instructions!

 

3. A complete game

Usually, the pitching coach comes to the mound to encourage a pitcher, but when the manager comes out, you're basically done -- his mind is made up and you can't argue your case. Usually, but not always.

 

In 1986, early in my career with the Cleveland Indians, I pitched into the ninth inning against the Detroit Tigers. We were winning by five or six runs, and I'd thrown tons of pitches. The Tigers scored a run and loaded the bases with two down, and I was having trouble getting that last out.

 

I said, "No, I wanna finish this game."

So my manager, Pat Corrales, marched to the mound and asked, "Do you want me to take you out of this game?" I said, "No, I wanna finish this game."

 

Corrales continued: "You better, because look at that guy warming up out there. I'm not gonna bring that son of a b---- in because he'll screw this game up. So you better finish it right now if you want to win."

 

Corrales turned around and marched off the mound. I got the next guy on a pop-up. Game over.

 

2. A long walk avoided

In 1992, my first year in the National League, I was pitching for the Dodgers against the Padres. Tommy Lasorda was my manager. I had two outs and there was a runner on third base -- and Tony Gwynn was coming up.

 

 

Gwynn

 

Lasorda

Pitching coach Ron Perranoski came to the mound and said, "Tommy wants you to walk him." I said, "I don't want to walk him." Perranoski reiterated, "Well, Tommy says you should walk him and go after the next guy."

 

But I wouldn't budge: "No, I've had pretty good success this year against Gwynn. I'm gonna pitch to him because I can get him out." So Perranoski turned around, and as he walked off he said, "Oh, sh--."

 

As Gwynn stepped to the plate, I heard Lasorda shouting at me from the dugout, "God---- it, you better get that son of a b---- out!" I could hear Lasorda, Gwynn could hear Lasorda -- it seemed that everyone in the stadium could hear Lasorda. Talk about pressure: I had just refused to follow my manager's orders, and now he was yelling at me for all to hear.

 

Fortunately, Gwynn hit a grounder right at me. When I returned to the dugout, Perranoski came over, sat next to me and said, "You know, if you didn't get him out, me and you both were walking home tonight."

 

1. A Beavis impersonation

No. 1 on my list is another story from my time with the Dodgers. I was pitching and Mike Piazza was behind the plate. My knuckleball was live that day, and he was scuffling a bit -- he was taking some hits as my pitches danced away from his glove. It can be a tough day for a catcher when a knuckler moves a lot.

 

When Piazza took his mask off, he started talking like Beavis.

Finally, Piazza came out to the mound. As a pitcher, when your catcher comes to the mound, you expect him to instill some confidence or talk strategy. It was a tight game, so that's what I expected in this situation.

 

But when Piazza took his mask off, he started talking like Beavis from the "Beavis and Butthead" show -- this was the mid-1990s, when the show was big ... and one of the running themes was Beavis hurting himself through sheer teen-aged stupidity.

 

There we were in the middle of a game, at an intense moment, with my catcher struggling a bit -- and Piazza was imitating Beavis, as if he had just watched an episode 10 minutes ago. I started laughing. First baseman Eric Karros came to the mound with his glove over his mouth, and he was laughing. So was third baseman Tim Wallach -- all four of us were cracking up.

 

We ended up getting out of the inning and wound up winning the game ... with Beavis as our catcher!

Awesome

The one with Pat Corrales was funny.

 

:lol

Piazza is awesome..oh yeah and candiotti.