New York Yankees manager Aaron Boone went on a profane rant Thursday that seemed to spark his team's rally from a slow start to a 6-2 victory in the first game of a doubleheader against the Tampa Bay Rays.

The rant came after rookie umpire Brennan Miller called Brett Gardner out on strikes in the second inning. Gardner returned to the dugout, where he slammed his bat nine times into the bat rack, then eight times into the dugout roof.

Microphones caught Boone's yelling that the pitch was outside along with profanities to Miller, an International League crew chief who made his big league debut April 20 as a call-up umpire.

Miller said, "I heard you, Aaron," and when Boone persisted, the umpire ejected him. Boone then ran out and kept up the argument, getting close to Miller's face and clapping his hands for emphasis.

"My guys are f---ing savages in that f---ing box, right? And you're having a piece of s--- start to this game. I feel bad for you, but f---ing get better," Boone said, going on to repeat his thoughts several times. He told Miller to "tighten it up right now, OK?"

Miller, umpiring behind the plate for the fifth time in a major league game, had called Aaron Judge out on strikes following DJ LeMahieu's leadoff double in the first. Gardner batted in the second after Gio Urshela's tying, two-run homer and was called out on a 1-2 pitch.

Boone was ejected for the third time this season and the seventh time in two years as a big league manager. Asked whether Boone went too far with his use of profanity, crew chief Gerry Davis replied: "Yes, absolutely."

"Just a big game, and just felt like some things weren't going our way there early, and it felt like it needed to be known," Boone said after the game. "Sometimes in the heat of the battle, you just kind of utter some things. But I feel that way about our guys, no doubt.

"Certainly didn't want anyone else getting tossed. We were pretty heated there, several of our guys there in the first couple of innings. So I just felt it was necessary in that spot to kind of take the attention off some of the other guys."

Yankees pitcher Domingo German, who allowed back-to-back home runs to Austin Meadows and Yandy Diaz to lead off the game, said Boone's rant gave him a spark.

"I loved it," German said through an interpreter. "Personally, I fed off that energy. It gave me a boost to concentrate and go out there, do my job and try to get this victory for him, because he went out there and fought for us. I felt that it was my responsibility to go back out there and return the favor."

As for calling his players "savages," Boone explained that they "make it hard on the pitcher all the time. That's something that those guys take a lot of pride in as a lineup. You may have your way with us, you may have success against us, but I want you to feel us."

First baseman Luke Voit said after the Yankees rallied to win the second game 5-1 that Boone has been referring to the team that way all year.

"Not a lot of coaches I think would back it up and use that type of word, but I think we appreciate it -- and we are a bunch of savages," Voit said.

As for Gardner, he laughed off his dugout antics.

"I can't throw my helmet anymore," he said. "Just making noise. Just being me."

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

Editor's note: Alex Rodriguez has a unique relationship with the four players voted into the 2019 Hall of Fame class. He was teammates with three of them (Mariano Rivera, Edgar Martinez and Mike Mussina) and played against Roy Halladay throughout their careers. In the days leading up to their enshrinement in Cooperstown, A-Rod shares the stories of those stars -- as teammates, competitors and friends -- in his own words.

• A-Rod on: Mariano Rivera

When I was 18 years old and in my first days with the Mariners, Edgar Martinez complimented me to one of the beat writers who covered the team. When I saw it in print the next day, I went to a corner store, bought a pair of scissors and marker, and carefully highlighted and cut out the quote. I taped that shard of newspaper to the lower right-hand corner of the bathroom mirror in my apartment, and when friends would visit, I would point out the clipping and show them what he said.

His words carried so much weight because of who he is -- a great hitter, sure, a Hall of Famer, but a gentle person of substance and soul.

The funny thing was that when I first joined the Mariners, a team saturated with stars, he was an afterthought for me. I couldn't wait to be around Ken Griffey Jr., the greatest player on the planet. Playing in the Kingdome at that time was like playing in a basketball arena, and he would blast baseballs into the rafters with that beautiful swing.

I got to meet Randy Johnson, one of the best left-handed pitchers in baseball history. As a double-play partner, I had Joey Cora, the sledgehammer-blunt second baseman who kicked me in the proverbial testicles whenever I needed it. I got to play for Lou Piniella, the fiery manager who channeled Billy Martin and became my baseball mentor.

But it turned out that Edgar was the teammate that I would stalk, in trying to learn about the craft. I was the same age as college freshmen when I first stepped into the Mariners clubhouse, and Edgar -- who would have a Ph.D. in hitting, if there was such a thing -- was like the professor I desperately wanted to impress. My father left our family when I was 10 years old, and I've always felt you could draw a straight line from that point to when I was with the Mariners, searching for answers, quietly and curiously following Edgar to the batting cage at the Kingdome.

I'd find a chair outside of the netting, or turn a baseball bucket upside down, and just sit there and watch him, absorbing how he meticulously went about his work, his routine, the drills. He never called attention to my presence; he just accepted and embraced the fact that I was there. Eventually, I worked alongside him, and he responded to any question that I asked in the same even-handed manner and tone.

Before David Ortiz became Big Papi, there was a Papi. That's what the Mariners players called Edgar. That's what I still call him.

He turned out to be the person and player I wanted to be -- the most clutch guy, the nicest, the person you could count on. He is reserved, very humble, a man of few words. From my rookie year to my ups and downs later in my career, to the dinner we had earlier this year, Edgar has always treated me exactly the same way.

He patiently explained his thinking when he was ahead in the count, when he was behind, when he faced a pitcher with a tight breaking ball or someone who threw hard. He talked about how different the challenge of hitting in the postseason was, relative to the lower stakes of the regular season. He talked about how he handled a hitless game.

He explained to me why he swung a heavier bat in batting practice, why he used pine tar in the way he did, why there was always a doughnut on his bat in the on-deck circle. Scottie Pippen had Michael Jordan, and I had Edgar. Years later, when I was with the Yankees and in the latter half of my career, I'd explain to Robinson Cano and others different parts of my routine -- and just about all of it came from Edgar.

I always looked forward to the Mariners' cross-country flights, because the mentor that I stalked was captive. Edgar would always take the very back row, in the window seat, and I would sit on the aisle and get him anything he needed. Potato chips, pretzels, a sandwich, a beer -- or later in his career, the red wine that became his drink of choice. Meanwhile, he answered all my questions, about baseball, about the business, about his life. OK, when you got that 3-2 slider, Papi, what were you thinking? At about the time the charter passed over Chicago, Edgar would tell me, through a smile, to find another seat and leave him alone.

Edgar loves his family and loves boating. He'd arrive in spring training with the perfect tan, the great hair and blue eyes, ready to go. He was born in New York, and he said to me that he always loved to play against the Yankees, and I asked him why. "Because when you play great against the Yankees," he said, "it lives forever."

The Seattle Mariners will live forever, I think, because of what he did against the Yankees in the 1995 playoffs. At that time, the franchise's future in Seattle was tenuous, but we made up a 13-game deficit in the standings and beat the Angels in a tiebreaker to take the West -- only to lose the first two games to the Yankees in the best-of-five division series. But Edgar beat them in Game 4 of the division series, a grand slam off John Wetteland in the eighth inning that looked like a 2-iron in the way that it rippled the tarp beyond the center-field fence in the Kingdome, inspiring our Hall of Fame play-by-play man Dave Niehaus to give one of his signature calls. The Rye Bread, the Mustard, the Grand Salami.

Of course it was Edgar who came to the plate with our season on the line the next day, in the bottom of the 11th inning of Game 5, when we trailed by a run. I didn't start that game, but Lou used me as a pinch runner in the bottom of the eighth inning, and so when Edgar came to bat in the bottom of the 11th, I was on deck, scared to death that I might have to bat with the season on the line. I felt my knees shaking. We had Joey Cora at second and Griffey at first and while there was nobody out, I thought for sure that Buck Showalter, the manager of the Yankees at the time, would walk Edgar to get to me. I didn't think there was any way they would pitch to the hottest hitter on the planet.

But Jack McDowell did, and when Edgar smoked that double into the left-field corner, he hit it so hard that I didn't think there was any way Griffey would score. But I didn't realize how fast he was running -- fly, fly away, Junior -- and when he slid across home plate, I jumped on him and put him in a headlock. I was so happy, and also so relieved I didn't have to hit. When we lingered in the clubhouse afterward and the soaked clubhouse had that stale smell of champagne, we were all like: Papi did it again.

Later that month, King County approved financing for a new Mariners ballpark, and I immediately began to lobby our equipment manager, Scott Gilbert, to place my locker right next to Edgar's -- an honor that was realized.

When I left the Mariners after the 2000 season to sign with the Rangers, phoning Edgar to tell him the news was one of the hardest calls I've ever had to make, and playing against him was really weird. But even after I left the Mariners, I understood that Edgar would always remain with me, as I continue to borrow from the best example anyone could hope for.

Editor's note: Alex Rodriguez has a unique relationship with the four players voted into the 2019 Hall of Fame class. He was teammates with three of them (Mariano Rivera, Edgar Martinez and Mike Mussina) and played against Roy Halladay throughout their careers. In the days leading up to their enshrinement in Cooperstown, A-Rod shares the stories of those stars -- as teammates, competitors and friends -- in his own words.

• A-Rod on: Edgar Martinez

Mariano Rivera will be inducted into the Hall of Fame on Sunday, the greatest relief pitcher ever, the first unanimous selection. What fans will always remember about him was how unflappable he was on the mound, how stoic, in victory or in those rare moments of defeat.

But the Mo I know is fully capable of bluntly chewing out somebody who needed it. Like me.

One of the worst places on earth to be was in the Yankees clubhouse, in innings one through five, if we happened to be losing or playing poorly, because that's where Mariano would be, watching everything. As part of his routine, he'd remain in the clubhouse in the early part of the game, preparing to pitch in the later innings, and if we fell behind early and I would walk back to my locker during our turn at-bat, he would be all over me. "What were you thinking, swinging at that pitch over your head?" he'd demand. Or, "What kind of a play was that? Get back out there, you moron."

He quoted George Steinbrenner a lot, and in our clubhouse, it was like he was the embodiment of what Steinbrenner demanded from the Yankees, in comportment and style. He remembered everything he learned from George and Don Mattingly, and had so much Yankee pride. He was always perfectly shaved -- I can't remember seeing a 5 o'clock shadow on him, ever -- and on every road trip, his tie was knotted tightly, perfectly, like he was a drill sergeant.

When I was with the Mariners and didn't really know him, Edgar Martinez and I viewed him with great respect for how he went about his business, how elegant and classy he was on the mound. He never tried to embarrass you as a hitter, or show you up. Watching him from across the field, there was always a sense of mystery there, and you'd almost think he was shy and timid because of how emotionless he was on the mound. That impression was reinforced by my interaction with him in the American League clubhouse in All-Star Games, because he said so little, barely making eye contact.

But what I learned after I joined the Yankees was that the reason why he kept his distance at All-Star Games was because he was so competitive -- he didn't want to get too close to players he expected to beat -- and perhaps the two words in the language that least applied to him were timid and shy. He became an integral part of my baseball world, but also one of the greatest friends of my lifetime.

"One of the worst places on earth to be was in the Yankees clubhouse, in innings one through five, if we happened to be losing or playing poorly, because that's where Mariano would be, watching everything ... if we fell behind early and I would walk back to my locker during our turn at-bat, he would be all over me. 'What were you thinking, swinging at that pitch over your head?' he'd demand. Or, 'What kind of a play was that? Get back out there, you moron.'"

Alex Rodriguez on Mariano Rivera

I don't think people realize what a phenomenal athlete he was. Late in our careers, there was testing done at the Yankees' spring training facility, and Mariano had the highest vertical leap of any player there -- 35 inches. He could jump like a rabbit, with the flexibility of a gymnast. When he was in his early 40s, he could still drop down into a split. Joe Torre would always say that Mariano was the best center fielder on the team, because of how much ground he covered running balls down in batting practice, and at that time, we had a Gold Glover in Bernie Williams.

Everybody knew what he was going to throw -- a cutter -- and yet they couldn't hit it because of that late movement. He has long fingers, like Pedro Martinez, and flexibility in his wrists, and I think that gave him almost like a buggy-whip action when he released the ball. But he also had incredible extension when he released the ball, striding out, and I think that contributed to the late life on this pitch that nobody could hit. I was always fascinated by how smooth his delivery was, how explosive. Science shows that a hitter can't track a pitch all the way to home plate, and the dramatic movement on his cutter was in the last eight inches. Hitters couldn't see it, they couldn't hit it.

I had some problems throwing from third base after I first joined the Yankees -- some yips. It wasn't a Chuck Knoblauch situation, but it wasn't great. So he and I started long-tossing together every day, to help me. I would stand on the right-field foul line, and he would back up, drifting back until he got to the 399-foot mark in left-center field. I'd have to run into my throws to even have a chance to get it close to him, and he would mock me by maintaining a pitcher's delivery, like he was throwing out of the stretch -- and he would launch the ball so high, like a javelin, and it would go so far up. It would never come down, it seemed. And then it would drop right into my glove.

About 80 percent of our conversations were in Spanish. When Mariano would throw his last warm-up pitch, I'd always be the infielder to flip it to him, as the third baseman, and I'd cajole him in Spanish, calling him muerto -- Let's go, scrub.

I'd say to him, "Mo, if you had my balls, you'd have 800 saves."

And he'd retort, "If you had my balls, you'd have 1,000 home runs." After Mariano retired and I played out the last years of my career, he'd joke that he was going to Federal Express -- to mail me his testicles, so that I would have some.

He always wanted to teach, and like a pastor, he's always got a Bible, but he never overdid it; he's great about messaging. He wanted me to do things right, and look out for me, encouraging me to attend the Sunday morning services they have at ballparks, and on some Sundays, I'd be exhausted and beg off. He'd get annoyed, punishing me with silence for a day. I hated letting him down.

In the worst of my trouble with the commissioner's office, Mariano called me all the time. He got on a plane, flew down to Miami to see me and was very direct: "What the hell are you doing?" He never supported the crap that I did. He is filled with conviction, and was always true north.

I made a lot of mistakes and he called me out directly, looking me in the eye and chastising me. But he never did it in a way that made me feel like he looked down on me; he made me feel that it was possible that I could find my way through, if I made better choices. Mariano never turned his back on me, and he gave me hope.

Eventually, I owned my mistakes. Mariano texted and asked, "Why weren't you doing this your whole career?" After I returned to the Yankees in spring training of 2015, Mariano arrived as a guest instructor and picked me apart good-naturedly, as old friends will do.

Then he looked at me and said, "You're doing really well."

I get goosebumps thinking about those words and how much they meant in that moment, coming from somebody with as much depth and character as Mariano Rivera.

I've never really been into music, but it felt like I was standing in the wing of a concert stage when Mariano came into a game at Yankee Stadium, with "Enter Sandman" thumping out of the speakers and the roar of the crowd in response, and Mo jogging in for the final act, head down. I'd tell myself how lucky I was to be there to see him, the greatest pitching weapon in baseball history.

During this long season, the world relay champion is determined to pace himself and run well when it matters

While consistency is key for Nethaneel Mitchell-Blake, the European 200m silver medallist says he now understands that it is about running fast when it matters most and that is his aim in this world championships year.

The reigning world 4x100m champion describes his season as having got off to a slow start but is confident the work he has been putting in will lead to quick times.

“One thing I’ve realised about being a professional is it’s about running fast when it matters,” says the 25-year-old, who ran his 200m PB of 19.95, which ranks him second on the UK all-time list, in May 2016.

“Last year I didn’t have the greatest year but I ran fast when it mattered. The ultimate goal is to be consistent. I feel that’s where you get longevity in the sport.

“I’m still finding the balance, I’m still training hard. It’s a funny sport, sometimes you’re on top, sometimes you’re not.”

Since his 19.95 200m clocking when sprinting for Louisiana State University in Alabama three years ago, Mitchell-Blake has also gone sub-10 seconds for the 100m with 9.99 in 2017 and came close to breaking 20 seconds for the half-lap event in 2017 and 2018 with a season’s best of 20.04 both years.

His best so far in 2019 is 20.50, while he finished fifth at the Shanghai Diamond League, but he now feels his body is in the best shape it has been all year as he works toward the Müller Anniversary Games at the London Stadium, where he will run both the 4x100m and 200m on July 21-22, 10 weeks before the IAAF World Championships in Doha.

“I’m excited, I really am,” says Mitchell-Blake, who anchored Great Britain to world sprint relay success in the same stadium two years ago. “I’ve had a consistent block of training and I feel that my body is in the best shape it has been all year.

“I’m excited to go out there and execute a race, see where I’m at, but also because it’s in London. I was born in London, I was born in Newham, it’s always a great opportunity to run in front of a home crowd.

“It should be a lot of fun, not to mention the memories I’ve gained – it will always hold a special place in my heart, running in London and the stadium.”

Maria Vicente and Holly Mills lead heptathlon after day one in Sweden

Just two points separate Spain’s Maria Vicente and Britain’s Holly Mills at the end of the first day of heptathlon action at the European U20 Championships in Borås, Sweden.

World and European under-18 champion Vicente had been in fifth place ahead of the fourth and final event on day one – the 200m. Her PB time of 23.76 was the quickest overall and saw her move into the top spot with 3565 points after also clocking 13.68 in the 100m hurdles, clearing 1.72m in the high jump and throwing 11.96m in the shot put.

European under-18 long jump champion Mills had led the competition after setting a PB of 13.45 in the hurdles into a headwind of -2.5 for the fastest ever 100m hurdles time in a heptathlon by an under-20 Briton.

She retained her lead after two events after clearing 1.78m in the long jump.

Ireland’s Kate O’Connor launched herself ahead after a 13.41m throw in the shot put, having also set a PB of 1.81m in the high jump, and ended the day placed third on 3543 points.

Britain’s Amaya Scott-Rule finished the day in fifth place after a series featuring three personal bests for 3443 points, while her GB team-mate Olivia Dobson placed 18th with 3065 points.

In the day’s qualifying action, Britain’s European under-20 100m leader Jeremiah Azu was among those to impress as he went quickest in both the semi-finals (10.37) and heats (10.56).

With a 10.37 clocking, Great Britain's Jeremiah Azu qualifies fastest for the 100m final in #Boras2019. pic.twitter.com/wiORzBvh5d

— European Athletics (@EuroAthletics) July 18, 2019

He’ll be joined in the final by Chad Miller, who ran 10.47 to win his semi-final, while Tobi Ogunkanmi placed sixth in his in 10.63.

N’Ketia Seedo went quickest in the women’s 100m heats with a Dutch under-18 record time of 11.37 as GB’s Immanuela Aliu won her heat in 11.57, before the pair clocked 11.40 and 11.58 respectively to win their semi-finals.

GB’s Isabelle Boffey (2:09.04), Sarah Calvert (2:06.72) and Keely Hodgkinson (2:06.19) all won their respective 800m heats, while Joshua Lay (3:50.20) and Erin Wallace (4:27.64) made the 1500m finals.

Max Heyden (8:36.12) and Ben West (8:26.14) booked their places in the final of the men’s 3000m, while the long jump final will feature Stephen MacKenzie and Alessandro Schenini after their respective best marks of 7.30m and 7.21m.

Amber Anning (53.68) and Louise Evans (54.20) both secured 400m semi-final spots, while Lewis Byng qualified for the shot put final and Bayley Campbell secured the 12th qualifying spot for the hammer final, throwing 69.76m.

Josh Zeller and Jack Sumners progressed to the 110m hurdles semi-finals, clocking 13.60 and 13.66 respectively.

Results can be found here.

Todd and Lazarus spearhead England challenge in KL
By DONNA HELMER – Squash Mad Correspondent

National Coach David Campion has named the England squad which will head to the 2019 WSF Men’s and Women’s World Junior Squash Championships in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, from July 30 to August 9.

Among the nine selected, four represented England at last year’s World Championships which saw Team England’s men capture silver and Lucy Turmel claim individual bronze.

Two-time British Junior Open champion Sam Todd, who goes into the event as 5/8 seed, headlines the boys’ challenge and he will be joined by Max Forster, Jared Carter, Lewis Anderson and Ben Smith.

Meanwhile, Elise Lazarus, seeded 5/8, spearheads the girls’ individual and team challenge alongside Alice Green, Evie Coxon and Katie Wells.

David Campion said: “The World Junior Championships are steeped in history and our players are all incredibly excited to be representing England at this event. The girls’ team will be without European finalist Katie Malliff which is a shame, but she has a bright future and her time will come. Led by Elise Lazarus, who is seeded to reach the last eight of the individual event, we have enough strength to fight for medals.

“We are well represented throughout the squad of boys who will compete in the individual event. It’s a young group where the top three are all eligible for the boys’ team event in Brisbane next year, and these championships will provide valuable experience for them.”

The individual championships take place at the National Squash Centre from July 30 to August 4, followed by the biennial WSF Women’s World Junior Team Championships from August 5-9.

England’s Men (Individuals):
Sam Todd
Max Forster
Jared Carter
Lewis Anderson
Ben Smith

England’s Women (Individuals and Team):
Elise Lazarus
Alice Green
Evie Coxon
Katie Wells

Article by DONNA HELMER (England Squash). Edited by ALAN THATCHER.

Pictures courtesy of England Squash

Courtesy of our friends at Legends Nation, in February, every NASCAR fan came to know Corey LaJoie as the giant face on the Go Fas Racing No. 32 in the Daytona 500. This weekend, he returns to his roots at New Hampshire Motor Speedway, running a U.S. Legend Cars International and INEX machine on the new Flat Track at NHMS.