Andy Martino does impressive work pulling together all the various elements that culminated in the Houston Astros cheating scandal, not just chronicling all the dirt from the 2017, ’18, and ’19 seasons, but the events and trends that led to it. And he does so with a discerning eye, identifying the sillier rumors as such, and helping readers understand why the Astros might have done what they did without justifying their actions. We feel sympathy for Alex Cora, Carlos Beltran, A.J. Hinch, and maybe even just a tiny bit for Jeff Luhnow (But not for Correa. No thanks. Not me.), but we also feel like they mostly got what they deserve. (Well, Martino kind of leans hard into the notion that Beltran got a raw deal, actually. I get where he’s coming from, but he laid it on a little too thick for me. . .)
I loved how he spent ample time chronicling the history of sign stealing and previous sign-stealing scandals to put things in context. Likewise, his account of the ramping up of the use of high-res camera tech and analytics in baseball helped show this didn’t just come out of nowhere.
If I have any critiques, they would be the following: First, Martino’s a bit of a Yankees homer. Yes, I understand the Yankees are an important secondary character in this whole drama, but Martino devotes a bit too much space and writes a little too glowingly about Aaron Judge and the “Baby Bombers,” and seems especially quick to clear the Yankees of any accusations of shadiness. (Not that I think they did anything close to what the Astros did.)
My second suggestion for improvement is related to that last issue. And this kind of turned into an essay, so feel free to stop reading right here. But if you want to know what I think about the Houston Astros, by all means continue. . .
As quick as Martino is to clarify that the Yankees never crossed any lines, he is very open and honest about the fact that Major League rules kind of allowed for gray-area in-game tech-assisted sign stealing for a couple before the big crack-down in September of 2017, and many clubs were engaged in this, including the Red Sox, who were deemed to have crossed a line by using an Apple Watch, rather than some kind of hand signals or a runner to get notes on signs from their replay room. It was the use of technology that was deemed illegal—uncleared tech, that is. The replay room monitors were not only legal for clubs to have, but required, and it took a little time and the Red Sox Apple Watch incident for the MLB to really clarify that they could not be used for in-game sign stealing at all. But in 2015, ’16, and probably especially ’17, a lot of teams had been using them to try to steal signs during games. Martino does a pretty good job detailing the rise of this practice.
What he maybe could have done a better job at is emphasizing how what the Astros did was clearly different and clearly crossed ethical lines, whereas other clubs were largely operating in gray areas. I mean, he says basically that—three or four times, probably. And he quotes other people saying it. But he could have done a better, clearer job of showing and explaining how and why he believes this to be the case.
Just in case you’re doubting, here is how and why I see what the Astros did as clearly different:
1) As far as I understood Martino’s reporting, what other clubs were doing, even though they were using the monitors with footage from the high-res cameras, was still grounded in the traditional and legal methods of sign stealing and communicating upcoming pitches to the batter—that is, they still filtered things through a runner on second signaling to the guy at the plate. With their trash can, whistling signals, and maybe even use of lights on an outfield scoreboard (?) . . . , the Astros did not hold themselves to that traditional man-on-second model. The hitter could get the information in virtually ANY at bat, not just in that special situation, and could get it more directly. Info was essentially flowing to him directly from the replay room (or monitor in the hallway) through the trash can bangs, etc. The ease and frequency of getting stolen intel to the batter was much higher. This is significant. It seems like the other clubs could have easily devised ways to do this, too, so it is telling that they didn’t. As I read it, something somehow told them that such a practice was just unethical, a clear violation of what baseball is supposed to be. Yeah, you can cheat (steal signs) but you have to WORK for it. It means something that the Astros weren’t afraid to go there while other clubs were.
2) After issuing their report and punishment of the Red Sox for their Apple Watch scheme, the MLB clarified that no in-game use of replay video to steal signs was legal, but it is well documented that the Astros continued to do it anyway. The only other case of a team violating this new doctrine was a lesser offense committed by the 2018 Red Sox that was reportedly a fairly limited version of what many teams were doing before the Sept. 2017 crackdown, always going through a runner on second. (And supposedly this was without the manager or front office’s knowledge, though some doubt this, which is understandable considering the team’s history with 2017 Apple Watch scheme and the fact that former Astros bench coach Alex Cora was manager at the time. I’m probably a little biased, but I believe the Sox on this point . . .)
Thus, by and large all the other teams put a stop to the practice after Sept. 2017, or at least—other than the Red Sox with their ’18 minor infraction—weren’t breaking the rules flagrantly enough to get caught. Houston, on the other hand, as the MLB reports, continued their much more expansive and thorough cheating system largely uninterrupted through the end of the 2017 season and postseason, including their World Series victory over the Dodgers, and then on into 2018. MLB stopped short of saying they did it in 2019, as well, but Martino offers some pretty good evidence that they were still cheating that season, too. I think he’s right, even if he seems focused on evidence of cheating against his precious Yankees. . .
Beltran and other have said the front office never told them about the rule change and Jeff Luhnow said he didn’t know they were cheating as bad as they were. Frankly, those are pretty lame excuses for me. The players knew they were doing something wrong and Luhnow didn’t probe because he didn’t want to know or didn’t want to be on the hook for it. As Martino ably demonstrates, the cut-throat, win-at-all-costs culture that Luhnow brought to the Astros definitely shares blame for the whole thing, regardless of his knowledge of the trash can.
So there you go. Were their crimes unforgivable? Of course not. As I said, Martino’s book does a good job getting you inside the heads of the key players and helps you understand why they ended up crossing the lines they did. But the doesn’t mean their sins should dismissed with a shrug and a flippant “everyone was doing it” comment. Clearly, everyone was not doing what the Astros did. Martino does a good job providing the evidence for that conclusion, but he could have done a better job connecting the dots and arguing for it. And I think that is important, because even though such transgressions, while not unforgivable, certainly deserve punishment, not a single player was punished, nor was their substantial achievement of winning the World Series ever been officially amended with any kind of footnote. This is why we can all feel justified hating the Astros. The MLB didn’t adequately punish them, so we the fans have to. The baseball gods demand it!