Not since Mr. Christian tossed Captain Bligh overboard from the Bounty in mid-ocean has there been a scene like the Fenway mutiny.
Usually benign Adrian Gonzalez, known for his affable passivity, and Dustin Pedroia, the quintessential company man, led the seventeen mutineers in a meeting with Red Sox ownership.
If spoiled brats had thrown such a tantrum, the parents would have gone into house arrest by the Department of Youth Services.
Seventeen players (the number keeps changing) on your Boston Red Sox (out of 25) demanded the head of Bobby Valentine on a silver platter.
As far as could be discerned, no one decided to do the Dance of the Seven Veils to get his way, though some wags likely would have enjoyed seeing Jacoby Ellsbury drop a few veils.
Names of the mutineers are not yet known to the press, but with the drop-a-dime mentality of this team, all the offended players shall be known.
What is more interesting may be the names of the half dozen supporters of Mr. Valentine.
Our first guess would have included Gonzalez-and we would have pegged David Ortiz as leading the charge at the Balaclava of Red Sox dissent.
If Valentine has any friends on this club, they seem to be in the owner's box. We certainly don't expect smarmy Ben Cherington to be the voice of support.
Last time the Red Sox players were upset, owner John Henry took them aboard his yacht and threw them a party, complete with funny hats and gratis headsets.
The late July meeting seems to have been the party of Know-Nothings. If there were any Whigs in the group, players would have had them walking the plank.
Just when you thought a group of petulant millionaires couldn't become any more likeable, they try to toss their manager over the side of the ship.
From here on, it's every man and mouse for himself.