Because of MLB collective bargaining, Phillies have little choice but to keep Herrera | David Murphy

Before we decide whether Odúbel Herrera should be a member of the Phillies’ roster this season, it might be helpful to consider another question. If our opinion is that he shouldn’t be playing baseball, what is it that he should be doing?

A lot of opinions on the matter seem to avoid this reality, choosing instead to view the Phillies’ looming roster decision as a referendum on the hideous brand of violence for which Herrera was arrested two years ago. Does a man who assaults a woman belong in a major league uniform? Of course not, because the act of assaulting a woman does not belong in a civilized society. Case closed, happy trails, and a warm welcome to Adam Haseley and Roman Quinn.

» READ MORE: Phillies are giving Odubel Herrera ‘chance to prove himself’ after domestic violence arrest

Problem is, civilized societies do not operate in such a manner. Nor do companies that are beholden to collective bargaining. In fact, one of the foundational principles of both institutions is a recognition of the dangers of dispensing justice on an ad-hoc basis. Rather than mete out punishment according to the sentiments of a critical mass of the population, we agree upon the rules by which we are bound, we proscribe consequences for violating those rules, and we delegate responsibility for identifying and prosecuting violations to an institution composed of our peers.

The process is not perfect. This is especially true in the realm of domestic violence, where the same power dynamics that often underlie the crime can also incentivize a victim’s reluctance to prosecute. But whatever you think of the decision that Melany Martinez-Angulo made when she declined to press charges for the assault she allegedly suffered in that Atlantic City hotel room in May of 2019, or of the court’s decision to drop the case, the end result cannot be undone. Herrera is not in jail. He was not convicted of a crime. He is a 29-year-old human who, as of now, will need to spend the next 20, 40, 60 years as a functional member of society.

Which brings us to our original question: If not a baseball player, what should Herrera’s function be?

» READ MORE: Phillies invite Odubel Herrera to spring training with a chance to compete for CF job

There’s an easy way to answer this. I don’t care what Herrera does, I just don’t want to see him on my television screen each night. I don’t want to see him basking in reflected glory. I don’t want to have to root for him in order to root for my favorite baseball team. I don’t want to have to think about that night in Atlantic City every time he steps to the plate, or steals a base, or makes a sliding catch in center field. I don’t want to think about the police report, about the handprints and scratches on his girlfriend’s neck, about the hundreds/thousands of women who have wound up dead in the wake of such situations. I just want him gone. He doesn’t have to live in exile. He just shouldn’t ply his trade here, in this city, in this spotlight, in this sport.

All of which is a reasonable way to feel. But it still doesn’t answer the question that sits at the crux of the Phillies’ current dilemma. If you don’t want Herrera employed by your baseball team, why would you want him employed by your auto mechanic, or your call center, or your car dealership, or your hoagie shop, or whatever other business might be excused for hiring someone who was arrested for what Herrera did? Sure, Herrera will retire with $30 million in career earnings even if he never plays another game. But it does not matter whether he himself needs further gainful employment. What matters is the principle.

Is there some hierarchy of professions that ranges from suitable to unsuitable for somebody who was once charged with domestic violence? And if we contend that there is, what are we saying to all of the members of those professions who have never been accused of domestic violence, the ones who share our sentiments on the despicability of such acts?

Playing baseball is a privilege, we say. We say that someone who has done what Herrera did does not deserve the visibility and dignity that such a privilege bestows. But think about that sentiment. Think about its implications. Think about the dignity it strips from all those who don’t have the ability to play baseball like Herrera does. Think about what we’re saying when we tell someone that theirs is a profession fit for someone we consider a social deviant.

These are uncomfortable thoughts, but they are necessary to consider if our goal is to arrive at an honest, ethical conclusion about the Phillies’ proper way forward. The more you think about them, the more you should understand why societies adjudicate crime and punishment within an objective, institutional framework. As members of this society, all of us are bound by that framework, and it is the framework that we should seek to change if we disagree with its results.

The situation is much the same from the Phillies’ perspective. The reality is, they can’t cut Herrera, regardless of how their fan base feels. When they signed the latest version of the collective bargaining agreement between Major League Baseball and its players association, they agreed on specific penalties for domestic violence incidents, and they agreed that once a player served his penalty, they would not discipline him further.

Which leaves us here: The Phillies have an opening in center field with no clear-cut favorite to fill it. On Sunday, they optioned Scott Kingery to the minors, leaving Herrera, Quinn, and Haseley. Given Herrera’s performance this spring, and the dearth of more viable options, it will be awfully tough for the Phillies to keep him off the roster and claim it is for baseball reasons.

Should Herrera be playing in center field this summer? What matters is that he is free to do so.