You can see his zany antics here on Getoffus.com, or on YouTube, or on any number of Internet message boards and blogs. Heck, you can even see his tirade right there on the official web site of The Worldwide Leader. Essentially, in just a day's time, it's become that no matter where you turn you can't escape the newfound legend of Asheville Tourists manager Joe Mikulik – now arguably one of the very few most fiery, animated, ridiculous-acting managers in the history of America's Pasttime.

But it wasn't always that way for Joe.

Prior to his hilarious outburst in which he channeled Lloyd McClendon, Lou Pinella, Andre Dawson, Tupac Shakur, Koby Clemens, Earl Weaver, your neighbor's two-year-old and God knows who else, times were simpler and the notoriety considerably lesser for Mr. Mikulik.

There was a time, in the not-so-distant past (a month or so ago), that the most run Mikulik was getting in the press was when his daughter married one of his former players. The local paper took it and ran with it, and it was probably the biggest story surrounding the Tourists in half a decade.

And there was a time, in the pretty distant past, when Mikulik was making headlines on the field.

Back in 1992, Mikulik was still plugging along in the midst of his playing career. He wasn't terribly famous, nor terribly gifted, but he was good enough to stick around in the minor leagues for quite some time ... 12 years, to be exact. Having endured such a long minor-league career, Mikulik had the odd distinction of nearing 1,000 career hits. Yes, it's great to get 1,000 career hits ... but probably not in the minors. You'd rather rap out a couple hundred then get the call up to The Show. Regardless, you can't go terribly wrong getting paid to play baseball.

But as the story goes, sitting at 999 hits, Mikulik – during a home game – hit the ball in the gap. With two outfielders going full-bore trying to get to it, one dove and barely got a glove on it but couldn't haul it in. It wasn't enough to make the out, but it was enough to convince the official scorekeeper that it was an error, not a hit. And so, Mikulik was robbed of the joy of getting career hit 1,000 in front of the home crowd. He wound up getting it on the road later on.

Seems he always saves his best work for the road games, as this weekend's outburst came away from Asheville.

That may be about the only similarity between then and now, though. Conventional wisdom says people mature as they age. I guess there's an exception. We've seen the now, but back in the day Mikulik was a little less outspoken.

As reported in a story on the College Sports Information Directors of America's web site, Mikulik said about the 1,000th-hit situation:

"I hit a ball in the gap and both outfielders are running for it," he said. "The ball falls between them after one of them has it glance off his glove. The HOME official scorer rules it an error. My 1,000th hit, at home, a ball in the gap with both guys on the run. I was kinda upset, but I was a professional and didn't complain about it. I got my hit on the road."

Now his biggest hit is his epic fit.

But you know, good as it may be, there's still plenty of room for improvement. If you're going to go being a giant jackass, you might as well really go all out. Given half a chance to be in Mikulik's shoes, I'd consider doing the following:

— We've seen bases get tore out of the ground ... what I want to see is somebody go out there and pull up the pitching rubber. And keep it. Just take that bad boy with you to the clubhouse and wait for the ump to come get it, then club him about the face a time or two.

— If you get thrown out and you have to leave via the outfield wall like Mikulik had to do, why not borrow a page from pro wrestling and crawl over the fence and leave by walking through the crowd and exiting the stadium at a gate? By doing this, particularly on the road, you get the bonus possibility of somebody borrowing from the Wrigley Bleacher Bums and throwing him back.

— Toss the helmets, water cooler, buckets of gum and sunflower seeds, and bats onto the field. Then, throw the bat boy out on the field to clean all that mess up. Bat boys typically weigh no more than 115 lbs. unless they're less than 8 years old, then they're morbidly obese. Still yet, a morbidly obese 8 year-old can't be too awfully difficult to heave. Or if all else fails, tote him out there.

— Slide him an extra $200 to kick dirt on the ump.

— Has any manager ever brought a pair of glasses and/or an eye exam chart out on the field? I know I've never seen it done, but it should be. It'd be pure hilarity to see a manager try to administer the test to the ump right there on the field. And then when you're done, you can flip the chart into the outfield.

— I'm sure this would warrant a huge suspension, and I'm also sure most won't find it that great of an idea, but I'm sick and enjoy sophomoric humor ... therefore, I would probably laugh myself into a full-body cramp if a manager were to drop trou and leave a big steamy pile right on home plate.

And for those of you scoring at home, there are 1 billion bacteria in a gram of doo-doo.

— After getting tossed, the manager should re-appear on the field via behind the outfield fence or the bullpen with push mower in tow, and commence mowing the grass as the action is ongoing.

— And, lastly, I'd like to see a manager fire up a cigarette, wipe his face off with a towel, and slide the ump a $20.

So here's to you Joe Mikulik, for your brush with greatness. If you're reading this, please, please, please try out some of these nifty ideas next time you blow a gasket. I'll even send you a Getoffus.com shirt to wear under the jersey you'll be ripping off as you storm away.