If the games were always this exciting, we wouldn't need $17 beer.

Football coaches spritz their troops with spittle. NASCAR drivers get punchy in a barroom-brawl, "them's fightin' words!" manner. But for the sheer magnitude of nuts-losing paroxysm, no sport can match baseball—and, in particular, these titans of tantrum.

Lou Piniella
Whenever we see one of Piniella's exquisitely choreographed on-field explosions (step-step-curse-step-kick-dirt-step-jazz-hands-step-kick), we can't help but wonder how he reacts to frustration off the diamond. If the kid at the Arby's drive-thru gives him a beef-and-cheddar rather than a bacon-beef-and-cheddar, does he exit the car, berate the teen mercilessly in front of his peers, then douse him with horseradish sauce?

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