Month: January 2020

About ten days ago I was on the phone with a friend when I got an alert on my computer that Carlos Beltrán and the Mets had agreed to part ways. One can parse that statement any way they want, but there is simply no denying that Beltrán was fired…before he managed a single game for the club. How very “Mets”.

My friend was devastated. It turns out that his son is a massive Carlos Beltrán fan; he even has a Beltrán bat framed in his bedroom. He didn’t know what to tell his son, how to break the news.

We were on the phone for a bit – long enough for Beltrán’s statement to be issued. I quickly read it and reported back that this was an easy one. Based on Beltrán’s own words, you can easily explain to your child that actions have consequences, that one must own their mistakes, apologize for their behavior, and vow to be better. In short, Beltrán’s statement covered all the bases. As poor as his decision to cheat, was how great his expression of regret.

“Over my 20 years in the game, I’ve always taken pride in being a leader and doing things the right way, and in this situation, I failed. As a veteran player on the team I should’ve recognized the severity of the issue and truly regret the actions that were taken. I am a man of faith and integrity and what took place did not demonstrate those characteristics that are so very important to me and my family.

“I’m very sorry. It’s not who I am as a father, a husband, a teammate and as an educator. The Mets organization and I mutually agreed to part ways, moving forward for the greater good with no further distractions. I hope that at some point in time, I’ll have the opportunity to return to this game that I love so much.”

Beltrán’s apology was all the more shocking (and heartening) because we have not seen that level of self-awareness in the recent past. Time and again athletes and executives do wrong, and time and again they fail to show the proper contrition. But not Beltrán. He may have lost his right to manage (for now), but he hasn’t lost his moral authority. This is an “A+” example of a proper apology; it is a confession we can share with our kids as a learning tool; and a model that others caught in the crosshairs would be wise to follow.

Now, contrast Beltrán’s words with the various and sundry apologies and non-apologies we have heard in the past few months:

Here is Jeff Luhnow, the suspended and now-fired GM of the Astros (condensed for brevity, the emphases are mine):

“I accept responsibility for rules violations that occurred on my watch…I apologize to the Astros organization, Astros fans and the Houston community for the shame and embarrassment this has caused…

“I am not a cheater. Anybody who has worked closely with me during my 32-year career inside and outside baseball can attest to my integrity…I did not know rules were being broken…I did not personally direct, oversee or engage in any misconduct: The sign-stealing initiative was not planned or directed by baseball management; the trash-can banging was driven and executed by players, and the video decoding of signs originated and was executed by lower-level employees working with the bench coach. I am deeply upset that I wasn’t informed of any misconduct because I would have stopped it…”

The statement started well, with Luhnow owning the issue. But it quickly devolved into a “not my fault” recitation. This reeks of a “I am only apologizing because it is the *right* thing to do, but not because I am truly sorry” proclamation. He had the memo from the Commissioner; he spent time in the clubhouse and in the dugout. He knew or should have known what was happening over the course of two seasons. In this case, less would have been more. He could and should have ended the statement at “integrity,” and he would have received an “A”. As it stands, this is a “C+” at best.

AJ Hinch, the suspended and now-fired manager said the following (again, condensed with my emphasis):

“As a leader and Major League Manager, it is my responsibility to lead players and staff with integrity that represents the game in the best possible way. While the evidence consistently showed I didn’t participate in the sign stealing practices, I failed to stop them and I am deeply sorry.

“I apologize to Mr. Crane for all negative reflections this may have had on him and the Astros organization. To the fans, thank you for your continued support through this challenging time – and for this team. I apologize to all of you for our mistakes but I’m confident we will learn from it – and I personally commit to work tireless to ensure I do.”

This one is a little tricky in that Hinch was punished for essentially turning a blind eye to his coach’s and his team’s behavior. He certainly seemed to own his mistake, but he cannot help but add a little “but it wasn’t me” in there, which does take away a smidge of the repentance. Throughout the various Astros scandals, Hinch has been a voice of reason and remorse, so it was just a bummer that in trying to take the fall, he also had to try to clear his name. That said, this is still an “A-”.

Speaking of other Astros scandals, we all remember the case of Brandon Taubman. When he finally had to admit his wrongdoing, this is what he offered:

“This past Saturday, during our clubhouse celebration, I used inappropriate language for which I am deeply sorry and embarrassed. In retrospect, I realized that my comments were unprofessional and inappropriate. My overexuberance in support of a player has been misinterpreted as a demonstration of a regressive attitude about an important social issue. Those that know me know that I am a progressive and charitable member of the community, and a loving and committed husband and father. I hope that those who do not know me understand that the Sports Illustrated article does not reflect who I am or my values. I am sorry if anyone was offended by my actions.”

Did he really end this with the “I am sorry if anyone was offended by my actions” bromide? He knows people were offended. He said it to offend. Criminal law has the concept of mens rea (the intention or knowledge of wrongdoing). By all accounts, Taubman had the sufficient mens rea to be guilty, so his many-days-too-late non-apology simply doesn’t cut it. Only if you get points for trying will he earn a “D-”.

In the days after the Taubman clubhouse incident, not only did the Astros not apologize to the women affected, they attempted to obfuscate and impugn the reputation of a well-respected journalist. When the story became too large and too well known to slip under the champagne-soaked rug, after a five-day delay, Astros owner Jim Crane said the following:

“On behalf of the entire Astros organization, I want to personally apologize for the statement we issued on Monday October 21^st. We were wrong and I am sorry that we initially questioned your professionalism. We retract that statement, and I assure you that the Houston Astros will learn from this experience.”

Rare is the captain of industry who can utter the word “wrong,” so Crane gets kudos for doing so. But even what appears to be a full-throated and well-meaning apology falls short. Crane, while acknowledging his organization questioned writer Stephanie Apstein’s professionalism, never acknowledges that what she wrote, and what the team denied for nearly a week, was absolutely correct. That would have gone a long way toward healing the wounds inflicted by the Astros’ callous indifference to the facts. Crane is a billionaire; he is a leader in at least three major business fields (energy, shipping, professional sports); the bar for him is considerably higher. So his statement gets a “B-”.

Last week, the Astros held their annual FanFest, and reporters, as they are wont to do, asked Jose Altuve and Alex Bregman about the sign-stealing scandal.

Altuve didn’t try to apologize. His simply said: “I think the time to comment about that will come. It’s a little too early for me.” Maybe that is genuine. Maybe the impact of the entire saga has been too much for him to process in such a short space of time. Maybe he just isn’t ready to discuss the topic, and will do so when the team gets to Spring Training next month. Personally, I find it weak and a bit cowardly, but it is too soon to tell. I give this an incomplete, with his ultimate apology grade TBD.

But Bregman is a whole other story. He didn’t even bother. He showed disdain for the entire process. On at least six different occasions, in response to various forms of questions, Bregman said the following: “The commissioner made his report, made his decision, the Astros made their decision, and no further comment on it.”

Like an automaton, Bregman could not even conjure an original thought. He would not address the press, the fans, or the 725 non-Astro MLB players (many of) whom feel like he and his teammates cheated their way to two pennants and one World Series title. This is an “F”.

A fish rots from the head down. Jim Crane set the tone for this club with his lies and then delayed response to the Taubman incident. Jeff Luhnow learned from his boss, as did AJ Hinch, and each tried to give the appearance of contrition while attempting to salvage his own reputation by throwing trusted colleagues under the team bus. So it is not shocking that players raised in the organization chose not to confront the issue with at least some level of regret; without at least giving lip service to the damage they have wrought.

I have often wondered who is providing advice to these athletes before they get in front of a microphone so woefully unprepared. And then I got an answer. In an interview withThe Athletic’s Ken Rosenthal, uber-agent Scott Boras offered us the following pablum (among many other nonsensical thoughts):

“But to suggest players make a team apology … the reality of it is that the apology from the people who had notice, not from the people who didn’t have notice. And the people who are responsible for providing notice. That’s who the apology should come from.”

Boras had the temerity to state that if the players knew what they were doing was wrong, they would have stopped. Despite the fact that the players hid the monitors, and despite the fact that the Commissioner’s Report states that there was “panic” in the Astros’ dugout when White Sox pitcher Danny Farquhar seemed to be on to the scheme, Boras wants us to believe that all participating players thought this entire arrangement was on the up-and-up, just because a bench coach was in on the caper. He doesn’t really believe we are that gullible, does he?

Boras loves an analogy, and he tried this one out: A man driving 55 in a 35 MPH zone only knows he is speeding if the law is clearly posted. Fair enough…on Route 66. The argument holds considerably less water if that man is driving through your local neighborhood. These guys have been playing baseball their whole lives; they are grown-ass men; they know right from wrong. And they chose wrong to achieve a competitive advantage. Trying to blame this on a lack of signage in the clubhouse is at best, hogwash, and at worst, utter and complete bullshit.

But, keeping with Boras’ theme, the Astros players didn’t even need to formally apologize (though Dallas Keuchel chose to do so). I am no crisis counselor, but it seems they really would have helped their cause if, when confronted by intrepid reporters, they said something like this:

“We regret that the Commissioner’s Report has cast a pall over our team and our organization. 

“Our number one goal is to restore the faith and earn back the trust that our fans and the MLB community preciously had in us. We are going to work hard every day to bring a championship back to Houston and prove to the world we are not who was portrayed in that report. 

“Whoever our next manager is, we will make him, our fans, and especially the kids who look up to us, proud of the Houston Astros.”

This doesn’t seem that hard. Bill Plaschke wrote another article claiming that the Astros lack of apology is an affront to the Dodgers. I respectfully disagree. It is an affront to the entire game, from within and without. This will not just go away – as Astros players will learn in each park they visit this season – just by burying their collective heads in the sand. This mark – this asterisk – will linger until fans and players alike feel justice has been done and/or proper remorse has been shown.

“I’m sorry” are two of the hardest and two of the most productive words in the English language. Maybe they can learn them deep in the heart of Texas.

PLAY BALL!!

The dominoes have fallen – well most of them, anyway.

Around Thanksgiving I wrote my initial opus regarding the Astros’ cheating scandal. Little did I know that the cancer would spread eastward to New England, and right into the dugout of my beloved Red Sox. But here we are. MLB is still investigating the BoSox, and is withholding judgment until that is complete. In the meantime, let’s revisit what I wrote, and the questions I asked, back when this was all theoretical:

“[S]hould MLB suspend Jeff Luhnow for half the season? … To make it really hurt, they could extend this until August 1^st so the Astros would be without Luhnow for the trade deadline?”

I was off by three months, as MLB suspended Luhnow through the 2020 World Series. But not an hour later, he got fired. I’ve got to say, I didn’t see that coming.

“And what about A.J. Hinch? The manager either knew or should have known what was happening just outside his dugout? In the NCAA they call that a lack of institutional control. Should he be suspended for half the season? More?”

Hinch also got a full season suspension. And then he got fired. Again, I didn’t see that coming. But it makes sense – how can owner Jim Crane and the new front office trust a guy who heard the banging, who disliked the cheating so much that he allegedly broke not one but two video monitors, but still did nothing to stop the practice. They call the manager the “field general,” but Hinch acted like a patsy.

“What about Alex Cora? He knew – or should have known. Regardless of the fact that he is now the Red Sox manager, he too should face discipline.”

When I wrote those words, I had no idea that the investigation was going to expand to include the 2018 Red Sox. Once I learned that, and once I read the report where Cora was mentioned 11 times and stated that the whole system was “originated” and “executed” in conjunction with him, the die was cast. There is no question that Cora is deeply implicated, and it makes perfect sense that the Red Sox fired him. As stated above, Rob Manfred has withheld Cora’s official punishment pending the outcome of that investigation, but my guess is that Cora goes on the permanently ineligible list, with the right to request reinstatement after the 2021 World Series. In essence, he will be banned for two years (plus however long it takes for some organization to look the other way and hire him).

“[H]ow about Carlos Beltrán? He was the veteran presence on that 2017 Astros club, who showed the younger players how to take certain advantages. My guess is that the investigation will cast a negative light on him as well. How Mets would that be to have their new manager suspended before he ever takes the field?”

This one remains fascinating. Manfred’s report only list seven individuals: Mike Fiers (the original whistleblower), Crane, Luhnow, Brandon Taubman, Hinch, Cora, and Beltrán. Beltrán escaped punishment as the league essentially gave all players (and Beltrán was a player in 2017) immunity to speak candidly during the investigation. However, the report stated that he “discussed that the team could improve on decoding opposing teams’ signs and communicating the signs to the batter.” Manfred declared that this was a “player-driven” scheme, but the only player he referenced was Beltrán. How can the Mets turn the page with a new manager under this level of scrutiny? How can Beltrán survive the onslaught of the New York media as a first-time manager (and someone who doesn’t have a great track record with the press) with this scandal hanging over his head? And it would seem that the Mets could fire him for cause. Either during the interview process or right after, Beltrán said the following to the NY Post about the scanadal:

“I’m not aware of that camera…”

“We took a lot of pride studying pitchers [on] the computer. That is the only technology that I use and understand…”

“The game of baseball for years, guys have given location and if the catchers get lazy and the pitcher doesn’t cover the signs from second base [then] of course players are going to take advantage. I don’t call that cheating. I call that using small details to take advantage. I think baseball is doing a great job adding new technology to make sure the game is even for both teams. It’s easy to blame someone when they win.”

At best, Beltrán shaded the truth. At worst – and most likely – Beltrán flat out lied. Now, I am no labor lawyer, but it seems to me that intentional misrepresentation gives rise to termination for cause. And if the Mets did fire him, what is his recourse? Would he sue the Mets? What is his cause of action? (Wrongful dismissal, I know.) Would he want the Mets to subpoena the entire Astros 2017 roster and make them assert – under oath – that Beltrán knew nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing? Historically the Mets have been on the wrong side of many lawsuits, but I like their odds in this potential litigation.

With respect to team punishment, I wrote: “How about a loss of the Astros’ 2020 first round pick (#30). And loss of $5M in bonus pool money (essentially their first round allocation). And, as a kicker, the loss of their international bonus pool as well.”

Here Manfred made me look weak. He took their first round and second round picks in 2020 and 2021. He didn’t take any international bonus pool money (a missed opportunity, in my opinion), but he did fine them the same $5M (more about that below).

I also averred that the Astros should get hit with a $2M fine for each offense. I hypothesized a total fine of $55M. I have not wavered from that. Manfred stated that the $5M is “the highest allowable fine under the Major League Constitution.” I have been trying to locate this provision, and the nearest I can find is the MLB Constitution that expired in 2012. That document states (as I have previously written) that the fines may be imposed “for each offense.” And Manfred makes quite clear in his report that the Astros’ actions went from 2017 well into the 2018 season. Simply put, he found more than a single offense. I believe he should have arbitrarily identified ten violations and fined the team $50M. The $5M is easily paid for by Hinch’s and Luhnow’s now-forfeited salaries. But $50M is much harder to cover.

In November I stated, “[t]he Astros need the professional sports equivalent of a five-week suspension; they need a reprimand that requires them to ‘fail’ next season; they need a rebuke that tells the world that this behavior will not be tolerated.”

The suspensions (and ultimate firings) conveyed that message to the individuals, but not necessarily to the teams. Many around baseball think that firing two individuals, losing four draft picks, and paying $5M, is a small price for a World Series championship. Reasonable minds may differ, but change that price tag to $50M, and I don’t think they would.

Lastly, Bill Plaschke is getting a lot of run for his article in the Los Angeles Times that the Astros should be stripped of their World Series title. I am not a big fan of this concept, as I don’t think you can un-ring a bell. It is the same reason I disagree with “vacating” wins for college sports programs. Those games were played, those trophies were hoisted, and those parades were held. You cannot change that. Jayson Stark wrote eloquently about this idea in The Athletic.

Rather, I would like to see the league require the Astros to either take down the World Series flag in Minute Maid Park, or add an asterisk to it. The same goes for any MLB-licensed World Series gear. You want to sell it, profit from it, you need to own it. Houston must add the caveat. The asterisk should be included in/on all official MLB sites and references to the 2017 World Series champion. They got their rings, they had their glory, and now they get to live with their infamy. That (plus $50M) is a punishment that fits the crime.

PLAY BALL!!