There was a rhubarb, a squabble, a clash, a tiff--but no brawl--the other night at Yankee Stadium.

The fact that it was Derek Jeter at the plate had much to do with why both benches and bullpens emptied, and yet there were no punches thrown.

Here was the situation. The hapless, overmatched Tampa Bay Devil Rays were down 4-1 to the Yankees when hard-throwing Jesus Colome was brought in to pitch the eighth. Derek Jeter legged out a single to lead off the inning. Colome was hoping for a quick inning, I'm sure, after on the next pitch Bernie Williams flied out to center.

But the inning was anything but quick, and Colome was anything but efficient after that. No sooner had Ken Singleton mentioned on the YES tv broadcast that the cold, damp, windy night might contribute to control problems (Roger Clemens had trouble controlling his splitter early on, and was forced to stick with his fastball) than Colome began losing his grip. He uncorked one wild pitch that flew well beyond the reach of catcher Toby Hall and to the backstop. Some of the others were dangerously closer to the righthanded batters. Rondell White was almost plunked, then Shane Spencer was, on the arm. Alfonso Soriano spun away from a pitch that was headed right for his head, and his helmet flew off frighteningly. Colome issued four walks, some of them on four straight pitches, and also a passed ball.

But we were talking about Jeter. After reaching base, Jeter stole second, and then on the next pitch, stole third. In Jeter's accounting, Colome glared at him as if he took exception to Jeter's aggressiveness on the basepaths. "When I stole third, he was staring at me the whole time when I was on third and then when I scored he was looking at me," Jeter told reporters after the game. That would not have been a problem, except that Colome was so bad that Jeter came to bat for a second time in the inning. Colome served up his first pitch where he had been serving them up the whole inning to righties, which is to say up and in. Now it was Jeter who took exception. "Wild, sure, but still, he almost killed Soriano," Jeter said, who thought that Colome's wildness began angling at batter's heads particularly after the two steals. He wasn't going to let it pass without comment.

He stepped into fair territory and yelled something to Colome, who began to saunter toward Jeter. Colome sauntered all the way down off the mound and was perhaps five yards from Jeter when the second base umpire, hustling across the diamond, took him firmly by the arm and backed him off, while the home plate ump Tim Tschida stood in front of Jeter, listening to his argument.

Who knows what Colome was thinking? Would he have swung a fist at Jeter? One cannot picture Derek initiating physical violence. Indeed he said as much: "It wasn't like I was going to charge the mound or anything. I was just trying to make a point." Think back to the brawl in Seattle in August 1999. Jeter was criticized by utility player Chad Curtis for standing to the side and fraternizing with the "enemy" (his then-good-friend Alex Rodriguez) while catcher Joe Girardi was at the bottom of a heap of Mariners. By the next season Curtis was traded and Jeter was cemented as the team's franchise player.

And that is why the benches and bullpens emptied. You don't threaten Jeter without taking on all the Yankees. Jason Giambi, an old school player in a new school body, put it succinctly: "It's Jeter. Of course we're going to have his back." Because Jeter is a team leader, he's The Man.

And although I deplore brawling as unsportsmanlike conduct, I was happy to see what I saw. If you ever want proof that professional athletes care about something other than how much money they make, there it was. There was no brawl the other night, but the men spilling onto the field didn't know at the time that there wouldn't be. Who knew if some hothead might get overexcited? Careers have been ruined by brawl injuries (remember Bill Lee vs. Graig Nettles?), pennants lost. That even the bullpen catcher, whose name I don't even know (though I should), was prepared to fight said something to me about "team."

As Jeter said, he was not out for a fight, and as I said, he's just not that type. He is the last player who would do anything that could potentially besmirch his reputation, embarrass his parents, or disgrace his uniform. Brawling seems beneath him somehow. He made his point, Tim Tschida listened, and then the game went on.

Jeter walked to load the bases and then Bernie Williams walked in the tenth Yankee run, the sixth of that inning, all earned by Colome. Devil Rays manager Hal McRae finally sent Colome to the showers, and after the game, sent him all the way to Triple A. Jason Giambi came to the plate to face a new pitcher, and ended the inning with a "mercy strikeout" (swing at anything). There might not have been any punches thrown, but the Devil Rays had been beat up enough.