C'mon, guys. This is getting embarrassing. Major League Baseball used to be a place where cheating was an art form, an heirloom, something passed from old to young like a family recipe. From spitballers to bat corkers to sign stealers, cheaters' nefariousness is part of baseball lore.

Embedded in the sport's culture is an underlying lawlessness borne of its early days, when rogues, rapscallions and syphilitic vagabonds did whatever the hell they wanted to a baseball. Think about these pioneers' tool kits: nail files, emery boards, globs of Vaseline, hair tonic and, of course, the gift that made an in-season chest cold welcome – the magic loogie.

When television cameras caught Miami Marlins pitcher Alex Sanabia hocking a goober on a new baseball in the immediate aftermath of a Domonic Brown home run Monday night, it marked the second time in three weeks a pitcher had done the baseball equivalent of robbing a convenience store while smiling at the security camera. Sanabia should be

Paul Goldschmidt is turning into one of baseball's best contract bargains for a power hitter. (AP)

Around this time last year, we introduced the concept of doobs to the masses. For those not indoctrinated, it goes something like this: When you are dubious about something, you can doubt it, question it, disbelieve it – or, best of all, throw doobs on it.

The quarter pole of the baseball season is a perfect time to cast doobs on some of the hottest starts of the season. Last season offered some hits (Adam Jones, Derek Lowe, Bryan LaHair) as well as misses (Carlos Ruiz, Fernando Rodney). This year will prove no different, except one thing we changed: the Honorary Dubious Floating Head.

Choosing Bud Selig last year made sense because he may have the most dubious face in baseball. Yet compared to the ultimate dubious face, the commissioner looks downright bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. A dubious face combines a side-tilted lip purse and rancid stink-eye. And never before or again will there be a doobs face to match the patron saint of them, McKayla Maroney.

In the Doobs Olympics, McKayla

Not even five minutes in, the tears started. Mariano Rivera sat in the middle of a room full of strangers, ready to tell his story, and ended up listening to everyone else's. The family that lost a son in unimaginable fashion. The boy beaten down by cancer and chemo who peeled himself off the bench to pitch one more inning. Rivera nodded and smiled and consoled and comforted and, more than anything, he thanked them for thinking they were the ones getting something out of this day when he gleaned even more.

Sometimes we delude ourselves into thinking the social media revolution has returned the public's access to an increasingly insular sporting world. This, with rare exception, is not true. Digital communication is so fleeting, so intangible, a joke of a stand-in for the richness of an experience like the one Rivera is providing across the sport in his final season. When he and New York Yankees PR director Jason Zillo brainstormed the idea to spend time with local fans and workers in

Instant replay is not a cure-all to the incompetence of umpires who forget rules, the uselessness of those who butcher calls and the hubris of those who delight in confronting and ejecting players and managers because they can. It is a salve, something on which Major League Baseball can use as proof that slowly it's targeting officiating issues and irradiating them.

[Y! Sports Radio: Jeff Passan talks instant replay expansion and other hot topics]

For now, it is on the owners to do their part. During what is expected to be a fairly uneventful set of owners' meetings in New York on Wednesday and Thursday, replay will meet another important juncture, according to sources: Receiving support, approval and, most vital, funding from ownership.

Count A's manager Bob Melvin as someone who wants more accountability from Angel Hernandez and the umps. (AP) This is not the fait accompli it should be. Replay is terribly divisive because it offers so many possibilities. Some owners want a full-blown, replay-everything system. Others prefer it with challenge flags or believe it should stay how it is. And there

CC Sabathia's velocity is down but he says he's relying on location to stay effective. (USA Today Sports)

The pitching victory has taken a beating in recent years, and rightfully so. It often makes bad pitchers look good, weakly correlates with actual performance and somehow still remains relevant. The win is like a Buckingham Palace guard: bathed in glory for showing nothing.

A single victory for a pitcher means nothing in the larger context. Same for a year's worth. Or, for that matter, five years'. When they start to add up, something funny happens: They start to become significant. And indicative. And a damn good arbiter for excellence. Because more and more, in an era after steroids and amphetamines were the peanut butter and jelly of clubhouses everywhere, excellence has been redefined not just as superior performance but performance plus longevity.

Randy Johnson was the last pitcher to win 300 career games, doing it as a Giant in 2009. (Y! Sports)

Especially among starting pitchers. One whose arm lasts 20 years without significant injury, or even after a major surgery, is a miracle. It's why even as the single-season home run record was obliterated into a punch line and the

What started off as a wonderful tradition and homage to breast cancer survivors everywhere, the use of pink bats on Mother's Day, has turned into another ugly example of corporate greed. Hopefully sometime between now and Sunday, Major League Baseball and Louisville Slugger will realize there are few greater sins than monetizing disease, and fix that.

Baltimore outfielder Nick Markakis and Minnesota third baseman Trevor Plouffe, both of whose mothers are breast cancer survivors, received special bats from manufacturer MaxBat this week. They have been told not to use the bats, with their pink MaxBat labels, because they don't comply with a league policy – one Louisville Slugger purchased through a charitable donation.

Bats with this pink MaxBat label don't comply with league policy. (@maxbatbaseball)In early April, MLB official Roy Krasik sent an email to all league-approved bat manufacturers outlining the rules on pink bats. The email, obtained by Yahoo! Sports, specifically mandates the only company allowed to manufacture a pink bat with its name on the label is

The secret trick that led to accusations of Boston Red Sox starter Clay Buchholz throwing a spitball has an ancillary benefit: It prevents skin cancer, too.

Two veteran pitchers and one source close to the Red Sox told Yahoo! Sports that about 90 percent of major league pitchers use some form of spray-on sunscreen – almost always BullFrog brand – that when combined with powdered rosin gives them a far superior grip on the ball.

Boston pitcher Clay Buchholz's move to his left forearm is sometimes part of his pre-pitch ritual."Sunscreen and rosin could be used as foundation for houses," one American League pitcher said. "Produces a tack, glue-like substance that engineers would be jealous of."

During Buchholz's May 1 start against Toronto, Blue Jays color commentator Dirk Hayhurst said on Twitter the right-hander was "loading the ball" with "slick'em painted up his left forearm." When shown video of Buchholz, Jack Morris, also a commentator for Sportsnet, said, "He's throwing a spitter."

The umpires did not check. Blue Jays players said nothing. Buchholz, who threw seven shutout innings

Of all the people to remind Terry Francona how much he missed managing, it was Eric Hinske. Francona doesn't know why him, why then. It was the middle of the season, and he was walking through the Atlanta Braves' clubhouse before a game, and he ran into Hinske, one of his old charges on the 2007 Boston Red Sox championship team, and Francona wondered, at that moment, what the hell he was doing wearing a sport coat and makeup instead of a baseball uniform.

After a difficult end to his Boston days, manager Terry Francona is back where he belongs. (Getty Images)This game: It is Terry Francona's addiction. After his nasty divorce from the Red Sox, he jumped right back in, interviewing for the St. Louis Cardinals managing job, and when he didn't get that, he said he needed time to gather some perspective, which meant staying on the periphery as a broadcaster. And soon enough, because he was trying to be more honest with himself – because he was trying to shake off the stink of that final season in Boston – he realized this search was for naught.

"I don't have any perspective," Francona said. "I