When Rob Manfred came down hard on the Houston Astros last week -- suspending both their former manager and general manager for a full year, fining the franchise $5 million and taking away four high draft picks over the next two years -- he was doubtlessly motivated by a number of factors.
Manfred wanted to restore some order to the game, in the wake of all sorts of allegations about illegal conduct on the field. Ever since reports of the Astros' sign-stealing came to light last fall, the fallout was significant, with players and fan grousing about the chaos that had enveloped the sport.
Also, the commissioner was motivated to make a statement to the rest of MLB: using technology to obtain signs is forbidden and those found guilty will be dealt with severely. You can't say that teams weren't warned: as far back as September 2017, Manfred told teams future violators would face far tougher discipline. On Monday, he proved to be a man of his word.
But -- and sorry for the cynicism -- what if Manfred had other motivations?
What if Manfred acted not just in the best interest of the game and to establish precedent, but also because he was concerned about how rampant sign-stealing might negatively impact baseball's partnership with gambling entities?
It's hardly a secret all professional sports are looking to capitalize on -- and fully monetize -- the wave of legalized betting.
Massachusetts has yet to do so, but for Red Sox fans in neighboring states to the Commonwealth -- in New Hampshire and Rhode Island -- can now legally bet baseball and most other pro sports on their phone, or in designated casinos. Soon, most states will offer some form or fashion of legalized betting.
That represents plenty of new revenue down the road for MLB -- but only if bettors are assured the product on which they're wagering is legitimate and the competition is fair.
Imagine a replay of the 2017 World Series, say, five years from now, with legalized gambling widespread, tens of millions having action on the game, and later, an investigation determined that one of the teams had a clear yet illicit advantage. Imagine the outcry from bettors, who might have reason to wonder whether the games they were watching -- and betting on -- were tainted.
Already, MLB has partnered with MGM Resorts as "baseball's official gaming partner.'' The Red Sox, meanwhile, have their own local partnership with MGM Springfield; the casino this weekend is serving as the host for the team's annual Winter Weekend fan festival.
Not long ago, such a consideration -- protecting the integrity of the game, in part to preserve gambling interests -- would have been unthinkable. Baseball couldn't run away from any mention of gambling fast enough — as Pete Rose can attest.
But the world evolves. There's a lot of potential for additional revenue streams now, and MLB would be remiss for not exploring them all.
And if, in an indirect way, concern that fans (and potential bettors) questioning the legitimacy of game outcomes led baseball to clean things up, then gambling has already had an unexpected positive impact.
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