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June 17, 2002, 8:45 a.m. World’s Greatest Dad Explains It All Good and evil in baseball. By Dave Konig

unday was Father's Day and the Spawn of Konig (three of them at last count) brought me the classic Father's Day breakfast in bed: toast, coffee, a bottle of Old Spice, a cap with "World's Greatest Dad" scrawled on it in magic marker, and a completely indecipherable "art project" that I believe is a multicolored papier-mache shoe of some kind and now stares down at me from my bedroom wall. They also brought me the Sunday sports sections, all heralding the mighty exploits of Shawn Estes and the Amazing New York Mets in their heroic struggle against Roger Clemens and the forces of evil from The Bronx.

The kids are little (all under eight) but baseball savvy — they know the important stuff. They know that you've got to keep your eye on the ball, that you've got to get the glove down, and that Roger Clemens is a big fat dope with an annoying tendency to throw various items of athletic equipment in the general direction of Mike Piazza. So when the 20-games-over-.500 Yankees (big deal) showed up at Shea this weekend to do battle with the 2-games-below-.500 Mets (just you wait, they'll catch fire any day now), the inevitable pre-destined-by-the-gods showdown provided ample opportunity for the World's Greatest Dad (that's me, I've got the cap to prove it) to impart great life lessons on young, impressionable minds.

But first I had to explain the concept of inter-league regular season games. And the designated-hitter rule and how it doesn't apply to American League teams when they are playing in National League parks. And most of all, I had to explain why yes, Roger Clemens is a big bully for throwing athletic equipment at Mike Piazza and, as we've discussed, you must never ever behave like Roger Clemens (who is a big bully) but, on the other hand, it would be a very good thing indeed if the Mets's Shawn Estes deliberately threw a 90 MPH fastball at Clemens and knocked him right on his — this was getting complicated.

My father, I think, had it much easier. He was the strong, silent type. He taught by example. He communicated great life lessons verbally on very rare occasions and only when absolutely necessary, thus they were always memorable and right to the point (usually along the lines of, "For God's sakes, get the hell out of the bathroom!"). His was a simpler era and, if I had ever confronted him with the kind of ethical questions raised by the beanball quandary of Clemens and Piazza and Estes, I'm sure he would have offered up a wise and simple solution to the problem (something along the lines of, "For God's sakes, go ask your mother!")

So as we watched the drama unfold, my kids were genuinely perplexed. They knew (because I had taught them) that it was wrong to deliberately throw a fastball at someone's (particularly Piazza's) head. But now they also knew that it would be wrong for the Mets pitcher, Shawn Estes, not to throw at Roger Clemens because then, I explained, Estes would be guilty of not protecting his team-mate Piazza and you've got to stand up to bullies and protect your friends. They couldn't quite put these two conflicting thoughts together.

I tried to explain my way out of this Talmudic traffic jam by discussing the concept of "the lesser of two evils" but I could tell by the looks on their faces I was just making matters worse. The kids were confused. They were looking to their father to make the complex simple, to divide the world cleanly into good and evil, right and wrong, and I was failing them. I could see it in their eyes — maybe, just maybe I wasn't the World's Greatest Dad after all.

The third inning, the moment of truth arrived. Clemens was in the batter's box. The kids and I were riveted, not a word was spoken. All the tension and confusion and dizzying mixed emotions of the day had all boiled down to this strange, frozen moment in time. Would Estes throw at Clemens? How would I explain my disappointment if he didn't? How would I explain my excitement if he did? Estes went into his wind up and threw. Everyone gasped.

And, God bless him, Shawn Estes rescued me from my paternal dilemma by throwing right at Clemens and, in true Mets fashion, he missed! He made his point, stood up to the bully, protected his teammate and missed Clemens' big fat bully tush by about a foot.

Lessons were learned, my kids were happy, ethical dilemmas were satisfied and nobody got hurt. I was off the hook.

The Mets won, 8-0.

It's good to be the World's Greatest Dad.

— Comedian Dave Konig starred on Broadway as the DJ Vince Fontaine in Grease! and won a New York Emmy as the co-host of Subway Q&A. He just completed his first novel Good Luck Mr. Gorsky.