Manfred’s actions prove he doesn’t have players’ backs
Major League’s Baseball’s nerve center, usually referred to as the Commissioner’s Office, consists of a posh suite of offices at a fancy address in Manhattan. Along one corridor stands a row of 30 mannequins which represent the 30 major league clubs. Each mannequin is dressed in the home uniform of its team — caps, longsleeve tops, trousers, spikes — the works.
There’s only one thing missing.
None of the mannequins has a face. I never asked why, but I think the reason is obvious. It is impossible to depict a human face without indicating race, and MLB wants each of these figures to stand for all races. It’s at least one indication that someone who works there — or used to work there — is sensitive to racial matters.
Last week we were led to believe that perhaps someone else who works there is racially sensitive. Prior to the televised draft, Commissioner Rob Manfred made a passionate speech on the subject that had been on the lips of most Americans for several days. As I listened to his oration, I thought of those mannequins that I knew were only a few steps away from his podium. I found myself wondering if he was truly committed to what he was saying or if he had merely become a 31st mannequin — another one with no face.
After all, this was a topic no one with a pulse could ignore. Marches and demonstrations had been going on for days, some just outside his office. Many major league players had weighed in on the matter via social media. Most importantly, Manfred’s counterparts in other sports had already spoken out and his silence had become the loudest voice in the room. He had two choices. He could appear to be a little bit weak by becoming the last to say “me too” or he could appear to be apathetic, or even bigoted, by remaining silent.
He chose the former. He became the last to say “me too.”
He emphasized all the right things, and did it with plenty of emotion. But I still wonder.
I don’t mean to suggest that I consider Manfred a racist or a bigot, but I have my doubts that he ever cared deeply about social order or human rights.
Less than two years ago a congressional candidate in a southern state made a campaign speech in which she implored her supporters to make sure she got an invitation if they staged a lynching. Major League Baseball sheepishly admitted it had made a financial donation to that candidate’s campaign and asked that the donation be returned.
I find it hard to believe that anyone with a passion for civil rights would have been associated with such a candidate in the first place.
Significantly, only a few minutes before his pre-draft oration, Manfred was equally passionate as he discussed the state of ongoing negotiations with the players union. He stated unequivocally that there will be a baseball season this year. “One hundred percent,” he said. That was a “guarantee.”
Five days later, on Monday, he sounded just as passionate when he morosely declared that there might not be a season after all. He blamed it on the intransigence of the players.
If I had any doubts before, I had my answer on Monday. Unlike the mannequins, the baseball commissioner does have a face. That face includes a very prominent forked tongue.
Manfred is an extremely intelligent man with a law degree from Harvard. His specialty used to be labor law and in that capacity he has been retained by number of Fortune 500 companies. In layman’s language, his function was to make sure that billionaires remained billionaires and to repress unions or anyone else tugging on their wallets. That seems to be what he’s most passionate about.
Passionate and also very talented.
He was talented enough to be hired by Commissioner Bud Selig to work for Major League Baseball. He was talented enough to be named the commissioner himself after Selig retired.
Now, it appears he has his sleeves rolled up and is ready to go to work. In fact, he has already started.
He started last year when he swung his wrecking ball at minor league baseball, demanding a realignment that will put about a quarter of the existing teams out of business. Then he revolutionized the draft, reducing it to five rounds, thus saving the owners millions in guaranteed slot bonuses.
Now he’s after the biggest quarry of all — the powerful union called the Players Association. On March 26 he gave the union a good look at his forked tongue.
March 26 was the day the owners and players reached an agreement on several important points, or at least it was reported that they had. At the time no one knew when, or even if, it would be possible to start the season but they agreed if the season had to be shortened players’ salaries would be reduced proportionally. They also agreed that the commissioner would have the authority to determine the schedule, but that he would make a good-faith effort to play as many games as possible. Everything seemed smooth.
It turned out to be much too smooth. As soon as it appeared to be possible to play an abbreviated season the owners, led by Manfred, informed the players they would have to take a substantial pay cuts beyond their pro-rated salaries. The players, surprised by that demand, responded that the matter of compensation had already been agreed to and additional cuts weren’t part of the deal.
The owners remained adamant. They insisted that their deal with the players was contingent on occupied grandstands. Now they were planning to play in empty stadiums. There would be no ticket revenue and they couldn’t afford to pay the players their full salaries. They said they had made that clear during the negotiations and the players’ representatives had understood that.
The players said there had been no such stipulation — even an informal one.
A dialogue that both sides called negotiations followed, but neither side moved from its core position. The owners demanded that additional cuts in salaries and the players said no.
Finally, last Saturday, Tony Clark, the head of the Players Association, concluded that he was engaging in a fruitless exercise. He declared that the negotiations were over and it was time to play ball. He called on the commissioner to set the schedule, ending with “just tell us when and where.”
Then he telegraphed his next move. If the schedule imposed is too short, he said, the players could file a grievance alleging that the commissioner did not make a good faith effort to play as many games as possible.
That threat clearly alarmed Manfred, who replied on Monday that he will impose no schedule unless the players waive their right to a grievance. In other words, he wanted to bail out on yet another of the terms he had agreed to on March 26. He certainly knew the players wouldn’t meet that demand but it gave him an excuse to stall, which I suspect is exactly what he wanted.
According to one published report a few of the owners would prefer the season be canceled but that’s probably not wishes of the majority. I’m confident most of the owners, as well as Manfred, don’t want to give up the television money that comes with the playoffs. They know that for the playoffs to have credibility there has to be something that passes as a season and I think they’re willing to support that.
But no more.
I think 50 is the magic number. I think they’d accept a plan that pays the players to play 50 games if they got their full playoffs afterwards. An expanded playoff would be even better.
I think that’s what Manfred has wanted all along.
On Monday the timing wasn’t right, or so it seemed. On Monday he couldn’t declare a 50-game schedule that starts in July if the playoffs are to take place in October. There would be time to comfortably fit in 80 games and the players would probably have a slam-dunk grievance. He needed to wait another month to get what he needed so he commenced to stall and blamed the players for his inaction.
The picture changed in a hurry. On Tuesday, Dr. Anthony Fauci, in an interview with the Los Angeles Times, said he considers it unwise for baseball to plan on playing games in October. He urged the major leagues to schedule their playoffs in September.
Fauci’s statement appears to have fallen right into Manfred’s lap. He now has legal cover if he acts to schedule the playoffs for September. If he does that, a 50-game schedule, or something close to that, would be all he could impose in good faith.
If that’s what he wants, it looks like he’s going to get it.
That’s his history. He finds his way to deliver for his clients and for the foreseeable future the major league baseball owners will be his clients. The Players Association better get used to it.
If they don’t want to be at a permanent disadvantage they’d better go hire their own Harvard-educated lawyer.
Hall of Fame voter Jay Dunn has written baseball for The Trentonian for 52 years. Contact him at jaydunn8@aol.com