FEBRUARY 10: Former big league hurler Mike Bolsinger has filed a lawsuit against the Houston Astros, Nancy Armour of USA Today reports. The action was filed in California state court.

Bolsinger, a 32-year-old righty, has never pitched for the Astros. He hasn’t even played for an affiliated club in the past two seasons; instead, he suited up for Japan’s Chiba Lotte Marines.

It’s that departure from the major-league ranks that forms the factual basis for Bolsinger’s long-shot litigation. His last MLB appearance came in a Blue Jays uniform. It turned out to be a brutal August 4, 2017 outing — the very same game in which the trashcan banging scheme reached its apparent zenith. Bolsinger ended up being dumped by the Jays the day after he was tuned up by the sign-stealing ’Stros.

There is little question that the terrible results sealed Bolsinger’s fate, though that hardly establishes his right to relief (or even to pursue the suit). There are a host of potential roadblocks here. Before things can progress at all, his lawyers will have to show how their alleged facts combine to support one of his proffered theories (per the report, they’ve pled unfair business practices, negligence, and intentional interference with contractual and economic relations). Perhaps the Astros will also argue that this matter ought to be resolved before an MLB arbitrator.

Things could get interesting if Bolsinger is able to get into the discovery phase. Full details of the trashcan scheme would assuredly be relevant to his claim. In theory, there’d be a host of fascinating factual questions relating to the game of baseball and the Astros’ deep knowledge of it, all of which Bolsinger’s counsel could try to explore through requests for documents and depositions of key figures. No doubt they’d want all the evidence the league considered in issuing punishment. Testimony from the Astros players that faced Bolsinger — current Astros regulars Alex Bregman and Yuli Gurriel, since-retired MLB stars Carlos Beltran and Brian McCann, and four others who’ve since moved to other organizations — would assuredly be germane to the case.

Thinking of how a case might be argued to a jury of non-baseball fans is even more interesting. What of Bolsinger’s thin performance history in the majors? Or the fact that he had twice previously been designated that season by the Jays? Service time, spin rate, 40-man rosters, scouting reports, September call-ups, league-minimum salary … it’d all be open for laypeople to assess.

There will be quite a few opportunities for this matter to go away without much of interest taking place. The case seems sure to be removed to federal court; it could involve whole rounds of litigation over whether it can even be heard and if so in what venue. Finding a legal claim to suit the facts isn’t straightforward, so it could get kicked on a motion to dismiss. If Bolsinger’s side can make it past some initial hurdles, the Astros might try to settle it out. There’d surely be some major battles over how much information can be obtained through discovery. Once all the cards are on the table, there’ll be yet more ways for the Houston club to halt the proceedings (summary judgment, further settlement talks).

Baseball surely doesn’t want this matter to see a public trial. It’s not likely that it will. But it’s also hard not to imagine what that might look like.

[RELATED: How MLB, Astros Dug Their Own Hole]

Commissioner Rob Manfred spoke about the lack of discipline for Houston’s players this past weekend. Manfred argued that the players weren’t properly informed of the rules, so had the league come down on them, it likely would have led to “grievances and grievances that we were going to lose.” Indeed, as Evan Drellich of The Athletic explained this week (subscription required), MLB wouldn’t really have had a leg to stand on from a legal standpoint. With that in mind, Manfred & Co. decided to unleash their wrath only on the Astros organization and their higher-ups. Nevertheless, the MLBPA made clear Tuesday that it has fully cooperated with the league in regards to Houston’s misdeeds.

As part of a lengthy statement (all of which is available here via Drellich), the union said:

“The day after The Athletic published its Nov. 12 article, Major League Baseball informed the Players Association it would be conducting an investigation, and that it would want to interview players as a part of that investigation. MLB said from the outset that it was not its intention to discipline players. This was not surprising because the applicable rules did not allow for player discipline, because even if they did players were never notified of the rules to begin with, and because in past cases involving electronic sign stealing MLB had stated that Club personnel were responsible for ensuring compliance with the rules.

Against this backdrop, the Association on Nov. 13 sought and received confirmation from the league that the players interviewed and any other players would not be disciplined in connection with the allegations made in the article. We received that confirmation promptly on the evening of Nov. 13, and the player interviews began days later.

Any suggestion that the Association failed to cooperate with the Commissioner’s investigation, obstructed the investigation, or otherwise took positions which led to a stalemate in the investigation is completely untrue. We acted to protect the rights of our members, as is our obligation under the law.”

The union added that it and the league have recently engaged in “regular dialogue on potential rule changes affecting sign stealing, in-game technology and video, data access and usage, Club audits and disclosures, player education and enforcement – including the potential for player discipline.” According to the MLBPA, “no issue is off the table, including player discipline,” and the way “the parties handle the next several weeks will significantly affect what our game looks like for the next several decades.”

The current collective bargaining agreement is set to expire after the 2021 season. Therefore, how the league deals with the Astros’ crimes going forward could ultimately factor into whether a work stoppage takes place in the near future.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go for MLB commissioner Rob Manfred and Astros owner Jim Crane when they released a double-whammy on January 13th. No doubt the hope was that suspending and then firing GM Jeff Luhnow and manager A.J. Hinch (along with some punishment for the team) would do much of the necessary work of moving past a now-infamous trashcan-banging scheme — a scheme, it is important to note, that was rooted out by a combination of long-held suspicion, investigative reporting, and dedicated public analysis (aided by the very same technology that has boosted MLB’s fortunes and allowed the Astros to hatch their scheme).

While Manfred orchestrated this approach to dealing with the situation, he surely hoped the furor would die down by the time Spring Training rolled around. Instead, players around the game have directed a steady and potent stream of venom at their opponents, as well as at Manfred and Crane. It’s a reaction without precedent, and Manfred is a self-proclaimed “precedent guy.”

The curveball was not preceded by a pair of loud bangs — but perhaps they still should’ve seen it coming.

The core problem with the league’s and the team’s handling of this situation doesn’t lie in the specifics of just what punishment was meted out. It’s inherent to the crisis-management approach that MLB and the Astros adopted. It all comes off as entirely driven not by what’s right, but by what is convenient, which is precisely the wrong tone when the underlying matter of concern relates to the essential fairness of the contest that itself underlies the entire economic structure of Baseball.

In somewhat different ways, over time, Manfred, Crane and many of the Astros players have left an impression of insincerity. Initial suspicions to that effect seemed to be confirmed by later statements and actions. And that leads to yet more suspicions, which is probably why we’re all now well versed in the unwritten rules of on-field clothing removal and Jose Altuve’s tattoo travails.

More to the point, this reinforced sense of disingenuousness completely undermines the reasoning behind the punishment that was and wasn’t imposed. And it provides the tinder and kindling needed to turn a trashcan bang into a dumpster fire.

The typically reserved Mike Trout says he “lost some respect for some guys” — which is a quietly immense issuance of judgment roughly akin to your beloved grandmother softly crying and informing you that you have let her down. He says it’s unfortunate that players involved in the illicit scheme have escaped punishment.

But wait … Manfred says this too! He said just the other day he’d have punished players “in a perfect world,” explaining why he couldn’t and didn’t. So why the loathing for the commish? Why is Justin Turner calling Manfred out in such stark terms (beyond the fact that the commissioner stepped on a rake by calling the commissioner’s trophy a “piece of metal”)?

Here’s why: the league only backed into the real explanation for its stance after it couldn’t get the players to pipe down about the subject. And when the truth finally emerged, it was accompanied by a baseless suggestion that the MLBPA is at least as much to blame for the lack of punishment of specific players.

Evan Drellich of The Athletic (subscription link) and Jeff Passan of ESPN.com each covered the matter from a fundamentally legal perspective, explaining why the league simply could not have imposed punishment of the Astros players. You can read on for the full details, but the essential reason is fairly straightforward: the league didn’t act in advance to install clear rules and therefore wouldn’t have had solid legal ground to stand on in suspending or fining players.

This is, on the one hand, a sensible and comprehensible explanation. Manfred acknowledges in an interview with Ken Rosenthal of The Athletic (subscription link) that his office wasn’t ahead of the game when it came to the use of technology to steal signs. Whether that was or wasn’t a major failure on the league’s part can be debated. But Manfred’s hands were tied when the Astros scandal hit.

Fine. But this isn’t what we heard when Manfred issued his report and disciplinary decision a month back.

That report spent more time expressly clearing Crane of any wrongdoing or responsibility than it did mentioning legal obstacles to disciplining players. Manfred wrote that it would be “difficult and impractical” to punish specific players, not because of these newly revealed reasons but because so many had participated and some now played for other teams. He said he placed blame primarily on the leaders (Luhnow and Hinch, especially) rather than on players; indeed, Manfred wrote that “some players may have understood that their conduct was not only condoned by the Club, but encouraged by it.” We were also told that players were granted immunity for their testimony — a practical necessity to reach the truth.

Even as it revises its stance — it’s not that the initial lack of punishment was necessarily right and appropriate; it’s that, oh man, we totally would’ve suspended them but we couldn’t! — MLB has rather obviously started a whisper campaign to draw the union into the circle of distrust. There is still no public reporting to tell us much of anything about what the MLBPA did or did not do between the emergence of the scandal and the issuance of Manfred’s report. But we’re now being treated to hints (or, in some cases, outright claims) that suggest the union hindered player punishment and was wrong for doing so.

Barring some compelling information that has yet to be revealed, this is flatly ridiculous.

First of all, it isn’t as if the union has stood firmly in the way of all punishments of players. We have rules in place that give Manfred broad leeway to punish players accused of domestic violence and certain other bad acts. There’s a broad regime dealing with performance enhancing drugs. In virtually all cases in recent years, suspensions have been worked out in advance without grievance actions to challenge them. And we’ve seen strong evidence that players writ large are not cool with cheating of the Astros’ kind.

Further, there is no indication here that the union was asked for its approval of any leaguewide system for dealing with illicit sign stealers — let alone that it obstructed any league effort to do so. To the contrary, Manfred acknowledges the league didn’t have quite enough foresight. Neither is there any suggestion that the union specifically gummed up actual attempts by the league to pursue discipline against Astros players.

Rather, the implied reasoning goes like this: Manfred told Luhnow he couldn’t use technology to steal signs. Whether or not he was on notice, Luhnow didn’t tell the players in sufficient detail. That lack of notice to the players made it legally impossible to punish players who eventually cheated (with the assistance of Luhnow’s staffers). And this is … the union’s fault?

Here’s how MLB.com’s Alyson Footer states things, via Twitter: “My only point is — if players are mad Astros weren’t punished, they need to talk to the union, since the union is the reason why players were granted immunity.”

It’s rather stunning to see such an intimation that the union is somehow at fault for advocating for the rights of individual players. The union’s purpose — its legal duty, in fact — is to represent all of its members and back their rights. It would be inconceivable to give up compelling legal arguments against punishment of specific players, even if the union was also amenable to working out clear-cut rules to prevent this sort of behavior in the future. It is disingenuous to interpret the negotiation of immunity in exchange for testimony otherwise when Manfred himself acknowledged that the league simply didn’t have legal standing to issue punishment.

Rosenthal seemingly casts aspersions in a different but still notable manner: “In fairness, Manfred was not alone in failing to see the future clearly. As far back as 2015, the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA) expressed concerns to MLB about the rise of technology in the sport. The union, however, did not directly focus on the threat to the game’s integrity.”

The suggestion here, and in other similar accounts in the media, seems to be that the MLBPA shares equal responsibility with the commissioner’s office for studying and guiding the overall path of the game. One wonders whether the league really feels this way when it is bargaining with its players. As a practical matter, the union has nowhere near the resources or the breadth of responsibilities and capabilities enjoyed by Major League Baseball. Craig Calcaterra of NBC Sports has much more to say on this particular point.

Manfred has stated that the primary focus was on rooting out all the misdeeds so that we’d all know just what had happened. “We ended up where we ended up in pursuit of really, I think, the most important goal of getting the facts and getting them out there for people to know it.” Concepts of truth-finding, transparency, and opportunity for public reaction (even shaming) are perhaps all necessary building blocks to ultimate reconciliation — especially for a bad act that cannot be met with retributive justice. It’s an approach deployed in situations far more dire than this one. But while Manfred seems to acknowledge as much, this is precisely where the investigation and assessment of punishment has failed so badly.

Manfred’s report called it a player-driven scheme but didn’t name any current players, leaving it to speculation and intrigue to guess at just who had been at the center of the scandal. This only deepened the problems caused by the lack of punitive action.

Then, ensuing reporting showed that Manfred had not revealed a bevy of pertinent information he had regarding the involvement of the Astros’ front office. In what the kids call a self-own, Manfred appeared to mock Jared Diamond of the Wall Street Journal for digging up the “private letter” he had sent on the topic to Luhnow. Manfred did not explain why that information was provided to the suspended Luhnow but not the broader public. He did not explain how the facts he set forth in that letter related to his conclusions regarding the player-driven nature of the sign-stealing/conveying scheme. And he was bizarrely dismissive of the importance of his own communications to club officials — despite specifically premising the punishment of Luhnow and lack of punishment of Astros players upon a league-issued memorandum.

Now, we’re left wondering: Are the ’Stros players really regretful? Can we trust them when they say they didn’t cheat in 2019? How exhaustive was Manfred’s investigation of that matter? What of the still-open Red Sox situation? Just yesterday, Sox owner John Henry and CEO Sam Kennedy indicated that they’ve yet to even be interviewed as part of the league’s probe into the organization, which is set to wrap up next week. What actually is the league stance on player culpability in the use of technology to steal signs? Does anyone care about the cheating that took place, or only that it was exposed?

Just as the Astros’ words have largely rung hollow, the league’s own statements are now tumbling into an ever-widening credibility gap. “I hate where we are,” Manfred said of the scandal. Before MLB and the Astros can climb out of the hole they dug for themselves, they’ll need to backfill it with the unvarnished truth.

Houston’s projected Competitive Balance Tax payroll sits at roughly $231.5MM (as per Roster Resource), a number that is already over the second penalty level of $228MM.  Since the Astros have never before exceeded even the first luxury tax threshold, they will be taxed at the “first-timer” rate of 20% on every dollar spent above the $208MM threshold, as well as an additional 12% surtax for everything spent between the $228MM and $248MM.  Using Roster Resource’s $231.5MM projection, the Astros currently face a tax bill of $5.1MM.

Such a relatively small sum should hardly be a major impediment to roster-building, as Crane said last fall that while he would ideally “prefer not to” pay any luxury tax bills, “we may win the World Series, so you never know.”  A one-time overage might not be too much to swallow, especially since a lot of salary could come off the books after the 2020 season since George Springer, Michael Brantley, Yuli Gurriel, and Josh Reddick are all free agents.  Looking even further ahead, Houston has only $42MM in committed payroll beyond the 2021 season

Of course, the major x-factor here is how the emotional calculus has changed for Crane now that his franchise has been implicated in one of the biggest controversies in baseball history.  Given how Crane so clearly wishes to turn the page on the sign-stealing scandal, he might figure the best way to do so is by fielding another World Series contender in 2020, to “prove” that the Astros can win in an untainted fashion (though it will surely take more than a single year for the Astros to regain trust around the game).

With all of this in mind, it is somewhat difficult to view any potential Astros moves from a pure baseball perspective, not to mention the fact that Click might wait until he has actually settled into his new job before making any big transactions.  In the short term, however, discussing contract extensions with Springer or any of the other pending free agents would seem like a logical step to take now that Spring Training is underway.  In terms of new additions, Click could wait to spend until closer to the trade deadline, when he could more clearly access what final pieces might be required to put Houston over the top in a pennant race.