Yelling at the TV on a Wednesday night.

In the bottom of the 8th inning of tonight's Dodger game against the Oakland A's, Mitch Jones was called in as a pinch hitter for the second night in a row.

The evening before, Mitch stepped up to the plate and made his debut in the Major Leagues after spending a decade playing in the minors.

After 10 summers of wondering and dreaming, when finally decided to happen for Mitch Jones. The Dodger Stadium crowd welcomed Mitch to the big club with a standing ovation but the baseball gods had other plans. There was no home run or other heroics for Mitch Jones. Just three strikes and a lonely walk back to the bench.

Tonight Mitch Jones found himself back in the batter's box for another try.

The batter before him, All-Star catcher Russell Martin struck out without putting up much of a fight. Mitch didn't seem intimidated to be there but only he knows what he was thinking. He dug-in his back foot with the poise of a seasoned veteran as he readied himself for the unorthodox sidearm delivery of the A's pitcher.

Ball one.

Strike one.

A swing. And Contact.

In the exact same instant, Mitch's bat shattered, the business end headed towards the pitcher's mound, the ball had a visit to center field on its itinerary, and I started yelling at the TV.

The series of rapid fire stutters and and grunted half words I was able to get out in two or so seconds the ball was in flight loosely translated to "Don't go too high. Please stay low. That's it. Keep going a just a little further but not too far. OK feel free to hit the ground any time."

In in the last couple feet of its voyage, the ball's text book Texas Leaguer trajectory was thrown off course by the A's second baseman who made an outstretched desperation stab with his glove.

Had it been hit just a few inches shorter or Adam Kennedy been a step quicker that ball would have been caught and the inning would have been over.

Instead, Mitch Jones was standing on first base a lifetime .500 hitter.

And ten seasons, two continents, over 3, 500 at-bats and 221 minor league home runs suddenly became a fair trade for one base hit in the Major Leagues.