Thursday is a big day for MLB commissioner Rob Manfred.
Actually, when your sport is more than two months into a work stoppage of your own volition, you've alienated both your fan base and the players who are the face of the game and the industry you're overseeing is in freefall when it comes to popularity, every day is big for you. But Thursday is especially significant.
On Thursday, as the quarterly owner's meetings conclude in Orlando, Manfred is expected to address the media on the state of the negotiations toward a new collective bargaining agreement.
That, in itself, shouldn't take long, since in the last 100 or so days, there have been four negotiating sessions between the two sides, resulting in sound and fury, but little else. It's widely expected that Manfred will make official what everyone's known for some time: that spring training, officially due to begin the middle of next week, will not, in fact, start on time.
Once Manfred gets around to acknowledging the obvious, it will get real interesting.
Presumably, there will be an opportunity for reporters on site to ask the commissioner questions, and I'm guessing there will be some good ones, not the least of which will sound something like this: "Commissioner, you imposed a lockout at the stroke of midnight, the very second the previous agreement expired, saying at the time you were 'forced to commence a lockout.' You went on to say that the lockout would 'jumpstart the negotiations and get us to an agreement that will allow the season to start on time.' You also noted that the lockout 'accelerates the urgency for an agreement.' And yet, commissioner, the first negotiating sessions didn't take place until six weeks later. Why?''
There are other questions to be asked of Manfred, too, and I have no doubt, will be asked.
But the biggest tell Thursday will be Manfred's tone.
Will Manfred be combative, blaming the players for their greed, while maintaining the falsehood that free agency is killing smaller markets and threatens?
For the sake of the game, let's hope not.
Manfred's legacy is already in tatters. A good number of both fans and players believe he has no intrinsic love for the game, that it is merely a product for him. (Say what you will about Manfred's predecessor Bud Selig, but if you spent five minutes with Selig, you came away knowing that he was, first and foremost, a fan, who frequently watched games from 6 p.m. to midnight in his home in Wisconsin. In my interactions with him, he would frequently ask for updates about individual Red Sox players).
Manfred appears to share no such passion. You can sense it from nonsensical changes he's suggested, to his reference to the World Series trophy as a "piece of metal.''
If Manfred uses his platform Thursday to degrade the players, rather that express a willingness to compromise, he'll be doing the sport another disservice.
No one is reasonably expecting Manfred to wave a white flag Thursday; that's not how negotiations, especially those with literally billions of dollars at stake, work.
But Manfred would do well to at least strike a more conciliatory tone toward the players and refrain from demonizing them. He could stress the need for a stronger partnership between players and owners, like the one that exists in the NBA. He could cease leaning on gimmicky moves like asking for a federal mediator, as the owners did last week, knowing full well that would do little to advance the talks, but could, conceivably, give the owners some PR cover.
And he could convey to fans, desperate for the season to start on time, that he understands their frustration and will do everything in his power to get the sides back to the table as quickly as possible and implore them to act with some real urgency -- for the good of the game.
"The good of the game,'' is something that past commissioners have cited. Bowie Kuhn referenced it when he negated the sell-off of three star players by Oakland A's owner Charlie Finley. Selig invoked it to block some proposed franchise sales. And Fay Vincent used it to ban Pete Rose.
It's a powerful tool that any commissioner has at its disposal, and Manfred could utilize it Thursday by promising that his negotiators -- led by Dan Halem -- will be instructed to be available to meet every single day to negotiate until an agreement is reached.
He can't compel the Players Association to do the same, but my guess is, that won't be necessary. The players don't want a delayed start to the season or the possibility of games being cancelled. They're eager to get a deal done and get back on the field.
To date, Manfred's tenure has been marked by missteps: declining attendance and ratings, callous public comments, a confusing and maddening policy on local TV blackouts, an inability to improve the on-field product, and now, a lockout.
Manfred can redeem himself, at least somewhat, by extending a public olive branch and by restating his commitment to getting a new CBA agreement in place as quickly as possible.
I'm not holding my breath. But a guy can dream, can't he?