The Job Creators Network, a group led by minority businessman Alfredo Ortiz, held a rally this week in front of Major League Baseball headquarters demanding a meeting with MLB commissioner Rob Manfred. The group is launching an ad campaign asserting that Mr. Manfred has “No balls, all strikes” because of his capitulation to left-wing bullies.
No balls, mind you. Sources tell this reporter that that is correct.
Major League Baseball commissioner Rob Manfred is a scoundrel — a boil on the backside of baseball. He has politicized America’s beloved national pastime. Our sacred and uniquely American sport has been soiled by one man’s partisan politics. The commissioner has gone rogue with the Office of the Commissioner.
Six weeks into this anxiously awaited season, I have yet to see a game on television or at the ballpark, even after a 2020 COVID season that deprived me of my ballyard visits. My friends have joined me in abstention. We will not watch a game until Manfred resigns. Millions have joined me.
Rob Manfred has turned baseball into a political spectacle, an arm of the Democratic Party. He turned the national pastime into a national embarrassment by pulling the plug on the annual All-Star Game in Atlanta for political reasons. For those unaware of the man’s folly, he did this under the counsel of two mental incompetents, Ms. Stacey Abrams and Mr. Joe Biden. Baseball’s commissioner had the temerity and idiocy to take seriously a laughable political caricature clumsily enunciated by these two babbling clowns, who dubbed Georgia’s new election-integrity laws “racist.” Or, in the words of our poor president suffering dementia, “Jim Crow 2.0.”
Under this dubious counsel, Manfred, a northerner who lives up here in Manhattan, punished the black people of Atlanta with tens of millions of dollars in sanctions. Not since the North’s war with the South has a group of Yankees so economically damaged the city of Atlanta.
For this story I consulted my crackerjack staff at Wikipedia, where I learned that Mr. Manfred is from Rome, New York. Not Rome, Georgia, but Rome, New York, for crying out loud! From there, this Yankee went to the Ivy League — Cornell and then Harvard Law — before working for lucrative law firms in Boston and Manhattan. He is a Northeast elitist waging economic war against the good folk of the South. Most illustrative, his legal expertise is labor relations and employment law. This means that Manfred is not naïve to the damage of his actions against Atlanta’s businesspeople, many of whom are what northerners of his roots called “coloreds.” These fine citizens (white and black alike, Mr. Manfred) could lose upwards of a hundred million dollars in economic damages levied by Mr. Manfred, he of Cornell’s School of Industrial and Labor Relations. He learned well.
Still a greater affront, Manfred moved the All-Star Game to lily-white Denver, Colorado — lily white as the butts on the barstools in front of me here at McSorley’s Old Ale House. Denver is lily white not only because of its snowcaps, Mr. Manfred. And most interesting, its voter laws are no less restrictive.
“Georgia has 17 days of in-person early voting, including two optional Sundays,” observes Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp, “Colorado has 15.… They also have a photo ID requirement. So, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.” Kemp concludes, “Obviously, you’ve got Stacey Abrams and her groups that are — including the president — that are lying to the American people and our citizens.”
Correct, Mr. Kemp. Obviously. Rob Manfred’s cruel fool’s errand is very suspicious. It raises serious questions about the intentions or the faculties of MLB’s commissioner.
Manfred — the man is a fraud. His name practically rhymes with “fraud.” Or at least it would, by golly, if I could rewrite the laws of language like he rewrites the laws of baseball! Manfraud. There you go!
In this reporter’s most humble but brilliantly astute opinion, Manfred seems one of four things, none being appropriate for the commissioner of Major League Baseball: a bigot himself, a political hack for the Democratic Party, a man bereft of mental faculties, or a drunk (or a fifth that I won’t say in print).
As to the fourth choice, which I lean to from the vantage of my tall glass of Scotch that I’m leaning over here at McSorley’s (not far from MLB headquarters, which I’ve staggered past before), Rob Manfred’s assessment of the situation in Georgia is not the assessment of a sober mind. Believe me, I know of which I speak.
I go back far enough to remember the days of baseball’s first commissioner, my friend Kenesaw Mountain Landis. Judge Landis, ladies and gentlemen, was a kind of Georgian landmark himself. He was named after Kennesaw Mountain (slightly different spelling), the sight in the illustrious Cobb County where his daddy was wounded during the Civil War. He suspended the Black Sox fixers, and he would suspend you, Mr. Manfred — three strikes! And old Judge Landis could also handle his drink.
Rob Manfred, you are no Kenesaw Mountain Landis. You are also no commissioner of Major League Baseball. Or at least you shouldn’t be. You must resign, now.
George Jean Nathan is a longtime contributor to The American Spectator. His favorite haunt is McSorley’s Old Ale House in New York City’s East Village.
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