Losing More Than A Title: Houston Astros Cheating Scandal Proves The Loss Of Reputation Is Greater Than Any Trophy

It has been a couple of weeks since the Astros cheating scandal took over the news cycle in baseball. Because everyone with a microphone within earshot had an opinion, I have to admit I struggled with just “piling on” to the “how could they?” narrative.

Then I saw this headline: “Little League teams from California to Pennsylvania ban 'Astros' nickname after cheating scandal”

Last week, some leagues in Southern California took a stand before their Spring seasons: leagues in Long Beach and South Fullerton announced that they had banned the Astros name and uniform from competition in the wake of the Houston Astros cheating scandal.

Then this week, leagues in Pennsylvania and New York followed suit. While there will be plenty of Phillies and Yankees and Nationals trotting around the base paths of America’s pee wee parks this Spring, chances are good you won’t see as many Astros as you used to.

And, frankly, that’s as it should be. Goodness knows the grown-up Astros who’ll be trotting around the base paths of America’s big-league parks this season will need to watch their back. As Spring Training opened in Florida and Arizona this week, there were many an opposing player taking issue with the team in the media.

My favorite critique was actually offered in Japanese! Cubs pitcher Yu Darvish ripped the Astros and questioned how they could keep their rings, trophy and substantial payoff from winning the World Series. He compared it to the Olympics, where those caught cheating, even AFTER the Games, were stripped of medals.

Then there was Atlanta Braves outfielder Nick Markakis, a longtime MLB veteran, and relatively quiet fellow. He went off in a fiery tirade to reporters at the Braves Northport training facility, a rant that turned heads for its phrasing.

“It angers you,” Markakis said, “especially from a guy who has played the game the right way his whole career. No shortcuts. I know how hard this game is. I know how hard preparing for this game is and to see something like that, it’s damaging to baseball. It’s anger.”

“I feel like every single guy over there needs a beating. It’s wrong. You’re messing with people’s careers. I know we’re all competitive, and we’re out there competing. But there’s right ways to do it and wrong ways to do it, and I 100 percent disagree with the way they did it.”

When told of Markakis’ comments, new Astros manager Dusty Baker said, “I didn’t think Markakis talked too much. He must’ve had his Wheaties.”

For the next few months, there’s going to be a lot of players talking, so Baker should go ahead and get used to it. In ways that we don’t usually see from the staid baseball community, this Astros cheating scandal has brought out a lot of opinionated people, eager to make their opinion known. It’s like Twitter come to life.

I’m no prude when it comes to this kind of thing. I know that many in sports and business look to gain an advantage, and in baseball that desire to get one up on your opponent has led to a history of sign-stealing that’s has become part of the game. Every team has runners on second trying to get a peek at what the catcher is showing the pitcher—it’s classic cat-and-mouse, a cloak-and-dagger routine that makes up some of baseball’s best game-within-the-game moments.

But the Great Ones don’t cheat. They don’t use cameras, trash cans, and (allegedly) devices worn under their jerseys. That’s not looking for an advantage—that’s rigging the game. Before the Great Ones are covered in champagne, their uniforms are bathed in their own sweat, according to the rules, through their best effort.

The Astros did not. And now they’ll pay the price for their underhandedness, on and off the field. One of the best stories of the last 20 years in sports is now the game’s biggest villain; their vaunted use of analytics and science reduced to a system of scam and illusion.

And though MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred decided not to strip them of their 2017 World Series, won during the first year of their cheating ruse, the players and the fans won’t hesitate to hold them accountable in other, more painful ways.

When I was a kid, my father had a sign hanging above our kitchen table. It was small and plain, but the message came across loud and clear:

“What does it profit a man to gain the whole world but lose his soul?”

It’s from the Bible—Mark 8:36—and while I don’t usually include much about faith, it seemed appropriate. My father kept the quote on our wall as a reminder that integrity comes at a price, but so too does a “win-at-all-costs” attitude. My dad taught me that the Great Ones will always pay a price to win, but the size of the price to win ethically will always be smaller than the price you pay when you cheat.

The Astros may have kept their 2017 World Series title, but it’s little more than “a piece of metal” placeholder now. The team that won it is now known as a group of cheaters, thieves, and liars, their names carrying asterisks like the Black Sox or players from the Steroid Era.

This Spring, as thousands of little kids trot out on the grass of their local ball field, they’ll run out and dream of maybe one day wearing the professional version of their team’s jersey. They’ll dream of being Cubs or Red Sox or Mariners, but they won’t dream of being Astros. That name won’t even cross their minds.

Houston may get to keep their title, but they’ve lost a generation of fans. I wonder if anyone associated can argue that price will be worth it in the end.