The Weak Spot in the League’s Domestic-Violence Policy
The end of the Cubs’ season came earlier than expected, with the North Siders finding themselves unceremoniously dispatched from the playoffs by the Rockies in the Wild Card Game earlier this week. Addison Russell, once regarded as vital cog in an emerging Cubs dynasty, was absent from the roster for that game, confined instead to administrative leave. The next day, Major League Baseball announced that Russell would be suspended for 40 games, including the 12 games already spent on administrative leave, to be enforced at the beginning of the 2019 season. In essence, Russell will miss all of April.
MLB announces Addison Russell's suspension. 40 games. pic.twitter.com/Ty5021MhS8
— Ryan Fagan (@ryanfagan) October 3, 2018
Word is already circling that the shortstop has played his last game with Chicago. Russell, for his part, agreed not to appeal. “After gaining a full understanding of the situation I have concluded it’s in the best interest of my family to accept MLB’s proposed resolution of this matter. I wish my ex-wife well and hope we can live in peace for the benefit of our child.” Part of that resolution — the one marked by the phrase “agreed not to appeal,” which appears in Manfred’s statement above — is something I’ve addressed before when discussing Roberto Osuna’s suspension.
We learn here not that [Roberto] Osuna decided not to appeal but rather that he agreed not to appeal. Osuna, in other words, effectively settled his case with MLB, agreeing to a shorter suspension in exchange for not appealing. This sort of resolution isn’t necessarily dissimilar to a plea bargain or civil settlement, both of which have their utility. It’s an open question, however, whether baseball’s accused domestic abusers ought to have a say in their own discipline, particularly when that discipline is being enforced by their employer. And Osuna’s case isn’t an isolated incident; rather, it’s standard policy. The same thing happened with Aroldis Chapman, for example.
FanGraphs’ own Jeff Sullivan arrived at a logical conclusion following the announcement of Russell’s punishment:
now imagine what the league found that Osuna did, to suspend him almost twice as long as Russell. then the Astros traded for him and defended it to the press
— Jeff Sullivan (@based_ball) October 3, 2018
On one level, Sullivan’s point makes sense: Osuna received a harsher sentence than Russell, ergo Osuna must have done something worse. Because we have a firsthand account detailing Melisa Reidy-Russell’s allegations against her ex-husband, we then also (hypothetically) have some kind of baseline for the sort of penalty his disturbing behavior warrants by the terms of the league’s domestic-violence policy. The Commissioner determined that Russell violated the policy, just as he determined Osuna violated the policy. Presumably, those determinations were supported by evidence; otherwise, the players would never have agreed to not appeal the discipline.
But that leads to another problem, one to which Michael Baumann alluded recently at The Ringer:
The details of the suspension aren’t the important part of this case. In fact, this process is so common that it’s taken on a tragic roteness. The 40-game ban — which is retroactive to the start of Russell’s time on administrative leave, September 21 — will invite comments about how MLB punishes first-time PED violations more harshly than players suspended under its domestic violence policy. It also raises questions about how Russell’s case is different from that of Astros closer Roberto Osuna, who earned a 75-game suspension — does MLB believe that there’s some sort of graduated scale of badness for intimate partner violence?