Happy Saturday.

The big news was off the field this week.

Tony Clark resigned as executive director of the Major League Baseball Players Association after more than a decade in charge. His departure comes amid a federal investigation into the union’s finances and reports of an inappropriate relationship with a family member.

The timing couldn’t be worse.

The current CBA expires in December.

Owners are expected to lock out the players and push aggressively for a salary cap.

Clark had been the face of the union. He led players through the 2021 lockout and stood at the center of baseball’s widening economic divide.

Now he’s out.

Deputy executive director Bruce Meyer was installed as interim executive director.

He’ll lead the negotiations.

And he’s already setting expectations.

“A lockout is all but guaranteed. It’s never worked. I don’t think it ever will work.”

With new leadership and enormous financial stakes, baseball’s next labor war is no longer theoretical.

It’s coming.

Bryce Harper and the word elite.

He just won’t let it go.

All offseason, we heard it. T-shirts. Interviews. Reminders.

Now Spring Training opens—and he’s still talking about it.

Here’s the truth:

Elite players don’t campaign for the word.

They prove it when it matters most.

Harper is a great player.

But when your Phillies get back to October—hit the meaningful home run. Win the series. End the debate.

That’s what elite players do.

Until then, the word can wait.

In Fort Myers in 1986, Twins outfielder Mickey Hatcher decided to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

He found green enamel paint in the clubhouse.

And covered himself with it.

Not body paint.

Wall paint.

He walked around camp fully green, dancing and entertaining anyone in sight.

According to teammate Bert Blyleven, the joke stopped being funny pretty quickly.

The enamel paint trapped the Florida heat, and Hatcher began struggling under the sun.

Clubhouse staff rushed in to help scrub the paint off before things got worse.

Blyleven later said Hatcher had nearly painted himself to death.

Spring Training has always had its share of madness.

New York Yankees catcher J.C. Escarra waited nearly a decade for his shot.

Long enough to wonder if it would ever happen.

He drove for Uber.

He worked as a substitute teacher.

He installed floors.

He played independent ball. Winter ball. Anywhere that would let him keep the dream alive.

Then last year, the call finally came.

Escarra was headed to the show.

And to cap it off.

He got a tattoo of the photo from his first start behind the plate at Yankee Stadium.

A reminder.

Nothing in this game is guaranteed.

Not the roster spot.

Not the next at-bat.

Not tomorrow.

He spent a decade chasing that moment.

When it finally came, he made sure it couldn’t disappear.

2025 was a disaster for Zac Veen.

He admits he wasn’t all there.

The Colorado Rockies’ former top-10 pick says his days revolved around getting high or getting drunk instead of chasing his major league dream.

When he reached the majors last year, Veen struggled. He went 4-for-34 with 14 strikeouts. When he finally hit a double, he celebrated by pretending to take a hit off a bong.

He wasn’t ready.

Not physically.

Not mentally.

So Veen went home to Florida and made some big changes.

He got sober.

He rebuilt his body. Added 45 pounds. Found structure again. Found faith. Found mornings that didn’t begin in a fog.

Now he’s back in Scottsdale. Clean. Clear-headed. Fighting for his career.

Baseball doesn’t guarantee second chances.

This time, Veen gave himself one.

Spring Training always brings hope.

For some, it’s the beginning.

For others, it’s the last chance.

We’ll find out which is which soon enough.

That’s all for now.

If you enjoyed this one, tell a friend.

John Boxley
High N Tight