Rob Manfred is the 10th commissioner of Major League Baseball, chosen Thursday after six rounds of voting and nearly blocked, thanks to the protests of Jerry Reinsdorf and his cadre of clowns, whose preferred candidate’s bona fides were producing a slew of laugh-track sitcoms in the 1970s and ’80s, running one franchise into the ground and serving as third banana in his current ownership group.
This was a frightening peek into the sausage factory of rich-guy politics, the peel-back of a curtain that ensconces much of baseball’s dysfunction from the public. Toward the end, as Reinsdorf, the Chicago White Sox owner, did his best to torpedo a Manfred candidacy that should have sailed through unopposed, the whole thing played out like a bad Tom Werner pilot. Old guy. Pushing 80. Angry. Confrontational. Wants to fight a war he lost long ago. Turns on his best friend. Reinsdorf was like Archie Bunker, Statler and Waldorf, and every Clint Eastwood character of the last decade, dusted withRead More »from Rob Manfred was the right choice, but he has plenty of threats to tackle