Nothing happens on or off the field without the approval of the president/CEO/de facto GM. After another wild-card debacle, all roads lead to the top.
www.thestar.com
I don’t know who to blame for the debacle that was the last Blue Jays game of 2023. But I do know who must wear the sackcloth and ashes: Mark Shapiro.
Nothing happens on this club — from the roster composition to the analytics fanaticism, from the macro culture to the granular details — without the approval, the imprimatur, of the president, CEO and de facto general manager.
Which is why he needs to both give a forensic accounting of what transpired in Game 2 of the wild-card series and own it. Come out of the shadows, take it on the chin.
Buffeted in his boardroom, Shapiro rarely grants press conferences, unless he’s bragging about the $300-million, bells-and-whistles renovation of the Rogers Centre or the splashy player development complex in Dunedin. Typically his conversations with reporters are on the sly, planted leaks to acolytes on the Rogers payroll, literally. Eight days after the Jays came a cropper, dumped by Minnesota in the most cringe-inducing fashion — a new low in backfiring strategic engineering — Shapiro will address baseball hacks on Thursday.
But pushed out first to feed the rabid media horde is Shapiro’s sock puppet, general manager Ross Atkins. Let Atkins take the brunt of the blows while the outrage is still fresh. That’s what patsies are for.
On the Saturday morning of a long weekend, Atkins will assume the position, doubtless yet again to issue a tortuous spate of blather signifying nothing, elucidating nothing, illuminating nothing. And maybe Atkins ultimately hangs the horns on manager John Schneider for the uninspired series sweep by Minnesota — next sap up. Though, don’t get me a wrong, a skipper without a shred of baseball integrity doesn’t deserve the job. He’s expendable, as was Charlie Montoyo before him.
But this time it’s different. This time, the organization has broken faith with its fan base, perhaps irreparably. Even more crucially, this time the organization has broken faith with its players. In their own way, cautiously, many of them indicated as much in the immediate aftermath of Wednesday’s elimination, admitted their confusion over the jaw-dropping removal of starter José Berríos in the fourth inning of a scoreless game he’d been pitching masterfully. Although only one, far as I can tell, didn’t hedge his words. “I hated it, frankly,” Whit Merrifield told Mitch Bannon from SI.com. “It’s not what cost us the game, but it’s the kind of baseball decisions that are taking away from managers and baseball, at this stage of the game.”
Of course, it’s easier to speak truth to power when you’re not coming back.