Taylor Mattingly, an A-ball washout, admitted to Evansville police that he pushed his mother Kim to the ground, spat on her, then went all Hulk smash:

[He] admitted flipping a patio table over and shattering another, breaking a patio door and window and throwing furniture into the walls of the pool house, the affidavit said.

It's a he-said-she-said thing. Kim says her son was angry that she was trying to trade in his car, and had shut off cable service at his ranch. He says she had sent him a text message insulting him, his girlfriend, and his father...wait, she spoke ill of Donnie Baseball? I'd smack her around myself!

Perhaps wary of recent cover-ups, police were notably defensive over the lack of a mug shot.

He was booked into jail about 10:30 p.m. Officials there did not take a mug shot of him because the system was down, said Major Rick Pace, the jail commander. He said the camera was down much of the night and that multiple inmates did not have a photo taken.

Taylor Mattingly had been bonded out by the time the camera was fixed, Pace said.

That bodes well for Taylor: his mother didn't photograph too well in her mug shot (see above right).

Former Central Standout, Yankees Draft Pick Arrested [Evansville Courier & Press]

Mugshots are notoriously unflattering, but ... heavens.

While some say Torre should go the Casey Stengel route, we look at a managerial possibility for the Yanks: Don Mattingly. We were talking to a life-long Yankees fan the other night about Donnie Baseball, and he said he didn't want him to get the job for one reason: "I can't boo Donnie." We found that charming; part of the job of being a Yankees fan is booing the manager, and if it's someone as beloved as Mattingly, it would be too painful. Of course, Mattingly brings his own curse.

We still hope Tony LaRussa ends up with the job. Watching him fight with the New York beat writers every day would be a sublime joy.

Yankees To Debate On Future Of Torre [New York Times]
Joe Torre, I Have A Job For You [One More Dying Quail]
Is There A Curse Of Mattingly? [Village Voice]

Full story after jump, because it's long, but here's a highlight.

"Can I ask you a question...how long have you had that mustache?" I inquired, genuinely interested.

"Uhh...for a while now. As long as I can remember," hereplied, in what I recognize in hindsight as flabbergastedness.

We're not sure "flabbergastedness" is a word, but we like it, nonetheless. Enjoy the rest after the jump.

(Oh, and we can't get enough of Donny Baseball's sweater in that photo, by the way.)

Time: Around Midnight. Weekday. Sometime during the 2004 season, I think.
Place: Ray's Famous Pizza, 95th Street and 2nd Avenue, New York City.

So, my BoSox just got done beating the Yankees up in the Bronx while I watched and downed beers at my local watering hole, when a hunger came over me. I decided to drop by the Ray's around the corner for a slice to blanket tomorrow's hangover. As I entered the otherwise empty pizzeria, no indication of the events that were about to unfold could be noticed. Not more than 30 seconds later a guy comes in and asks for a large cheese pizza to be made fresh. He's wearing a Yankees' cap pulled way down, but I can make out that signature mustache.

I look at him and come straight out and ask, "Are you Don Mattingly?" He grins in a pleased and grateful sort of way. I exclaim to the guy serving us, who I know is from Guatemala with no baseball knowledge, if he knows who this is, as I gesture open-handed to baseball greatness. The pizza guy shakes his head "no." "This is Donny Baseball! MAN!!! This is crazy. Donny Baseball!" I nearly shout as my hand smacks forehead.

"I just got done watching the game an hour ago. That's too bad about tonight. Well...not that bad. I'm a Sox fan," I said pointing to my t-shirt. Donny Baseball nodded, and I immediately realized the error of my ways so I went about correcting it by changing the subject.

"So...Donny Baseball! I can't say I like your organization, but I've always respected you as a player and coach." No response. Damn! (thoughts: must change subject further.)

"Can I ask you a question...how long have you had that mustache?" I inquired, genuinely interested.

"Uhh...for a while now. As long as I can remember," he replied, in what I recognize in hindsight as flabbergastedness.

"Wow..." I said while looking around the pizzeria to see if anyone else had entered, so I could share my Donny Baseball moment with someone.

At that, he promptly told the pizza guy he would wait for the pie in his double-parked car out front. He handed the guy a twenty and said to bring the pizza out when it was ready.

By that time, my slice was placed in front of me and I sat smiling at it, shaking my head, and quietly whispering to myself, "Wow...Donny baseball."

Athlete Run-In: Chad Johnson's Side Job [Deadspin]