Following the Los Angeles Dodgers' 2025 NLCS win, manager Dave Roberts mockingly told critics, “They said the Dodgers are ruining baseball. Let's get four more wins and really ruin baseball,” embracing the “villain” narrative regarding their high payroll and star-studded roster. Like them or not, the Dodgers (and the Toronto Blue Jays, who are no penny-pinchers either on player salaries) provided the most exciting World Series since the Cubs won it all in 2016.
Cute. Adorable. Amateur hour. Because here’s the thing: Roberts was joking. He was leaning into a media narrative, having fun, playing along with a story. The real villain—the one who has systematically been turning America’s pastime into a corporate amusement park—is Rob Manfred.
While Roberts’ antics are temporary and playful, Manfred’s schemes are permanent and destructive. He isn’t just breaking hearts with his decisions; he’s dismantling decades of tradition, erasing rivalries, and converting a centuries-old sport into a commodity designed to fit neatly into streaming slots and Nielsen ratings. Roberts might play at villainy for a laugh; Manfred is villainy incarnate, with a pen and a rulebook instead of a grin.
Rob Manfred isn’t just a commissioner—he’s baseball’s most relentless saboteur since the Black Sox scandal, only this time the crime is against the very soul of the sport. His latest harebrained idea, ripping MLB into an East/West league structure, is less “modernizing” and more “wrecking history for TV networks.” Forget rivalries. Forget tradition. A New York Subway Series in October? Not anymore. A Freeway Series in Southern California? Not a chance. Poof.
But that's not all. Putting the Yankees in a division with Pittsburgh? My Cubbies battling for a division title with the Twins? WTF! Divisional and league rivalries built over generations are being treated like line items on a Nielsen report. Fans’ history, emotion, and pride—irrelevant. What matters is that the networks get primetime slots and everyone can watch on demand.
If that weren’t enough, Manfred has turned the postseason into a kindergarten participation ceremony. Expanded playoffs? Check. Everyone gets a ribbon. The thrill of October baseball, earned through sweat and grit, has been replaced by a buffet line of mediocre teams who “deserve” a chance to play because…well, no one likes to feel left out. And the split-season idea? Please. Fans older than me remember 1981, when the Cincinnati Reds, the team with the best record in baseball, were shut out of the playoffs because of the split-season. Yet Manfred trots this disaster out like it’s a brilliant innovation rather than a historical insult to common sense.
And let’s not forget the “zombie runner” rule, a gimmick so absurd it makes you question if he’s running a baseball league or a Halloween haunted house. Baseball’s slow, strategic grace is replaced with the chaos of a dead runner shambling onto second base like some unholy Halloween prop. And who could forget his pronouncement that the World Series trophy is just “a hunk of metal”? Really, Rob? THAT is your take on the pinnacle of achievement? The man oversees the sport’s greatest prize and reduces it to a Walmart trinket.
Manfred’s crimes aren’t just about gimmicks—they’re about loyalty to billionaire owners who would happily see the 2027 season evaporate if it padded their already obscene wallets. Threatening to cancel an entire season, putting players, fans, and the game’s integrity at risk, all in service of profit margins, is not leadership. It’s sabotage. Every decision reeks of a man who doesn’t love baseball—he loves money.
Rob Manfred’s legacy will be remembered not in wins or Hall of Famers, but in ruined rivalries, absurd gimmicks, a postseason stripped of drama, and the quiet outrage of fans who remember a time when baseball meant more than commercials and streaming packages. While the Dodgers manager jokes about "ruining baseball", Manfred grins like a villain in pinstripes, rewriting history, shuffling schedules, and turning the heartbeat of America’s pastime into a corporate cash register.
(c) 2026. Becky Romero Permission is granted to republish in full online or in print so long as a link is provided back to this page and to BeckyRomero.com
This page is a permanent link to the reply below and its nested replies. See all post replies »
