Max Scherzer #21 of the Mets argues with umpire Phil Cuzzi...

 Max Scherzer #21 of the Mets argues with umpire Phil Cuzzi #10 during the third inning against the Los Angeles Dodgers at Dodger Stadium on April 19, 2023 in Los Angeles. Credit: Getty Images/Katelyn Mulcahy

Most of MLB’s rulebook consists of clearly defined boundaries for illegal behavior, either between the lines or beyond the clubhouse.

Take longer than 15 seconds to deliver a pitch, the penalty is an automatic ball. Test positive for a banned substance, the suspensions start at 50 games without pay.

You get the idea.

But when it comes to what happened to Max Scherzer this past week, things tend to be a little sticky — or not quite as clear-cut, which is where MLB’s rule-enforcing apparatus gets a bit gummed up.

Blowing the whistle on banned foreign substances, such as Spider Tack  or Bullfrog sunscreen, should be simple enough. But when the crackdown extends to the only sanctioned tactile aid — the two types of rosin that MLB permits —  it becomes a matter of degrees, and far more subjective.

“There’s probably a gray area,” Yankees manager Aaron Boone said. “It’s tough for everyone involved. Obviously, the league is trying to make things as level as possible and you certainly want that as a competitor. We’re trying to learn and have those conversations and be as proactive as you can, but there does seem to be some gray in there.”

Four days before the Scherzer sting at Chavez Ravine, Boone went through a similar situation with Domingo German, who got much different treatment from that night’s umpiring crew. Like Scherzer, it was determined that German’s pitching hand was too sticky — the culprit was assumed to be rosin — but the Yankees starter was allowed to stay in the game despite not fully complying with the request to wash off the offending goo (some remained on his pinkie finger).

 

Instead, it was Twins manager Rocco Baldelli who was ejected when he blew up over the apparent leniency of crew chief James Hoye. Taken as an isolated incident, the German affair would be easy to shrug off. The umpiring crew acted in accordance with MLB’s heightened awareness regarding excessive stickiness on the baseballs and put German on notice. End of story. You can bet the next umpiring crew won’t be as forgiving if the issue resurfaces with German.

For Scherzer, however, he seemed to burn through all his chances during a single afternoon at Dodger Stadium, and was kicked out of the game midway through the fourth inning — also for rosin, technically a legal substance. The difference? Scherzer’s penalty came down to a judgment call on the part of Phil Cuzzi, the only umpire to boot all three of the pitchers that have received 10-game suspensions for this particular offense.

If this were a court of law, Scherzer might have a pretty good defense painting Cuzzi as an overzealous enforcer of a subjective rule that doesn’t contain specific parameters. Think of it this way — what if you got pulled over for speeding without any of the legal limits posted along the roadside and the police relied on their own eyes rather than a radar gun?

That’s not to say somebody couldn’t be speeding or that the police wouldn’t be correct in their judgment. But it’s just far more difficult to know precisely where you’ve crossed the line. Scherzer, like German, was warned. And when both returned with gunk on their hands, only Scherzer’s level of stickiness was deemed excessive enough to warrant an ejection.

Maybe part of that was a miscalculation by Scherzer, whose pleas of “sweat and rosin” failed to grant him amnesty. Even his claim of using alcohol in the cleaning process didn’t work because it’s commonly known (in baseball circles) that the solvent “activates” the rosin to make it super-tacky.

At first glance, Scherzer seemed to have a defensible position and initially planned to appeal the suspension. But when MLB fired back Thursday and made its findings public, the evidence against Scherzer looked much sturdier.

According to MLB’s official report, Scherzer was told to wash his hands after a second-inning inspection and warned that he would be checked again in the third. On that subsequent exam, Scherzer’s pitching hand was clean, but a “sticky substance” was discovered in the pocket of his glove, which he was instructed to replace. At the start of the fourth, the umpires examined Scherzer again and found his pitching hand to be “even more glossy and sticky than it was during the second-inning inspection despite not yet even throwing a pitch.”

From there, it got worse for Scherzer.

“Based on the umpires’ training to detect rosin on a pitcher’s hands, they concluded that the level of stickiness during the fourth-inning check was so extreme that it was inconsistent with the use of rosin and/or sweat alone,” MLB’s report said. “Both umpires reported difficulty removing the substance from their own hands for multiple innings afterward.”

This is all from the umpire’s perspective, of course. And there are plenty of conspiracy theories suggesting that Scherzer — a polarizing figure in the sport — was targeted for a number of reasons. But the ultimate authority lies with the umpires and the commissioner’s office, making an appeal feel like an unwinnable fight for Scherzer, who also mentioned Thursday that the Mets wanted him to just serve the suspension.

As much as Scherzer attempted to use the presumed legality of rosin as a shield, MLB’s report also took apart that defense, citing a league-wide memo from March 16 reminding teams that rosin could be considered a prohibited substance “when used excessively or otherwise misapplied (i.e., to gloves or other parts of the uniform).” That would appear to be a flexible enough net to ensnare Scherzer in this incident. 

 “MLB has never come in and showed us what’s excess because we’re in different climates,” Scherzer said Thursday. “L.A. and New York have two different climates right now. Wind is a factor, humidity is a factor in terms of what grip is. Pitchers, yeah, we struggle with that, trying to understand that. You’re constantly searching for grip. That’s what I was trying to do.”

 The flip side of Scherzer’s argument, as someone familiar with the episode told me, is that the three-time Cy Young Award winner has been checked hundreds of times since the crackdown in recent years but this was his only ejection. Something evidently was different. And with only three pitchers getting tossed for this crime since 2021, it wouldn’t seem that MLB’s sticky-stuff policing is all that egregious.

But it’s still early. We’re not even through April yet, and the two New York teams already have found themselves in the crosshairs of Rob Manfred’s renewed crackdown. At this rate, even with Scherzer’s high-profile bust serving as a cautionary tale, there’s bound to be more — though pitchers  probably will spend some extra time with the soap when Cuzzi’s crew is in town.

 As for Scherzer’s legacy, and the potential stain of being branded a cheater moving forward, that label shouldn’t stick. This is Year 16 of an otherwise unimpeachable career that makes Scherzer a lock for Cooperstown, and being over-aggressive with rosin — or some hybrid mixture involving the legal substance — for one day in L.A. isn’t akin to an extended PED suspension. To this Hall of Fame voter, it shouldn’t delay his induction by as much as a New York minute.

Also, MLB should be careful as far as defaming the sport’s biggest stars. It’s not good for business. Maintaining the game’s integrity is of paramount importance, obviously, and nabbing someone like Scherzer sends a clear message that no one is above the law.

 Going forward, however, it’s only fair that all parties have a better grip of what that law entails.

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