ST. LOUIS — It should surprise no one that Jeff Luhnow once again has decided against playing by baseball's rules.
The former Cardinals executive's willingness to defy the status quo helped the former big business executive find great success in baseball as the engineer of the Astros' successful tank-and-rebuild program.
Those same tendencies, one could argue over Luhnow's objections, helped lead to Luhnow's downfall during the fallout of Major League Baseball Commissioner Rob Manfred's investigation into the Astros' use of electronic sign-stealing practices during the 2017 and '18 seasons.
While Luhnow can be faulted for all of the flaws that accompany his cold-blooded, cutthroat way of doing business, his consistency begrudgingly can be appreciated, even if you don't believe him.
At the nadir of his baseball career, Luhnow remains unchanged.
He's going against the grain, winner-take-all, with a seeming lack of interest in the consequences of what could happen if his strategy blows up in his face.
That much was made clear by a civil lawsuit filed Monday in Texas.
Luhnow, former Astros general manager who was fired for cause by the team after Manfred suspended him for one year based on a conclusion that he both knew about and did not stop the Astros' rule breaking, has decided to fight back.
His style? Scorched earth.
Luhnow, citing breach of contract, is coming at the Astros for more than $22 million in lost salary, a heap of other benefits that were taken from him, plus legal fees.
Thrown beneath the tires of Luhnow's bus are Manfred, Astros owner Jim Crane and Tom Koch-Weser, the Astros' director of advance information who Luhnow claims is the "ringleader" of the sign-stealing operation.
Luhnow, still claiming his absolute innocence, wants his version of the story to be replayed in front of a jury if a settlement is not agreed to first.
So, for people who are wondering when Luhnow will be back in baseball, the tea leaves suggest not soon.
MLB owners and Manfred, who works for those owners, tend to stick together, and Luhnow now has fired a direct shot at Crane and the commissioner. If Luhnow's top priority was another job in baseball, he would be playing nice now that his suspension has ended, not waging war.
Take AJ Hinch, for example. The now-former Astros manager admitted to knowing about the electronic sign-stealing. He took his medicine. He's the new manager of the Detroit Tigers.
That's how baseball tends to work, like it or not. If you're caught doing something wrong, and you own up to it, you are more or less free to pick up the pieces and put them back together after your punishment is served. If you are good at your job, you won't have to wait long. But if you refuse to accept your fate — or if you refuse agree that you did what baseball says you did — then the sport can become an awfully lonely place.
If Luhnow's 17-page lawsuit is any indication, he is headed down that lonely road. He's determined to hold Manfred and Crane accountable for claims of cronyism, determined to expose Koch-Weser as a self-serving liar, determined to call into question the integrity of any investigation the commissioner's office has done and will do under Manfred.
Luhnow's lawsuit alleges Manfred and Crane reached a "negotiated resolution" after a "deeply flawed" investigation that was aimed at protecting Crane's integrity, preserving the Astros' 2017 World Series championship and pinning blame on Luhnow despite a lack of evidence.
Luhnow isn't just saying there isn't concrete evidence that proves his claims of ignorance about electronic sign-stealing are false. He's saying there should be enough of a track record of him supporting doing things the right way that Manfred's claims of Luhnow's problematic leadership are wrong. Bold strategy.
"The (commissioner's) report stated there was 'documentary and testimonial evidence that indicates Luhnow had some knowledge' of the video room sign-stealing scheme," the lawsuit reads. "In fact, there is no credible evidence that Luhnow had any such knowledge. Here is what the commissioner failed to mention in his report: After conducting interviews of 68 witnesses and reviewing 'tens of thousands' of emails, text messages, Slack communications, video clips, and photographs, his 'investigation' could produce only one untrustworthy source — the actual ringleader of the Astros sign-stealing schemes (Koch-Weser) who 'implicated' Luhnow to save his own job."
Manfred received a preview of these claims during a recent TV interview Luhnow did in Houston. The commissioner does not sound like a man shaking in his loafers.
"The 22,000 electronic messages that Jeff talked about over and over again were a fraction of the evidence in the case," Manfred said during a recent ESPN Radio appearance. "There was a lot of other evidence — electronic, testimonial — which indicated Jeff's culpability in this matter.
"Secondly, whether he exactly knew what was going on or not is really beside the point. After the Apple Watch incident (the Red Sox stole signs with the help of technology in 2017), I wrote to all the GMs. I put them on notice that it was their obligation to make sure that their organizations were not violating any of the sign-stealing rules.
"I think it's pretty clear from the facts that Mr. Luhnow failed to discharge that obligation. He damaged the game, and as a result, he was disciplined."
Luhnow's lawyers seem to be putting a lot of stock in a Koch-Weser text message that told recipients, "don't tell Jeff."
Left unexplained is what Luhnow thought a reference to "dark arts" meant if it wasn't a reference to electronic sign-stealing when it appeared in a memo he received in 2017.
If Luhnow had a good explanation for that one, it would have been good to include in the lawsuit, considering how bad it looks. But this, of course, is just Luhnow's side of the story, and in Luhnow's story he is the victim out to prove his innocence. His lawsuit claims he can come up with "a parade of witnesses" who support him.
Of all the statements Luhnow is making that are hard to believe, that last one might be the most unbelievable.
A parade of witnesses?
Luhnow might be underestimating just how lonely baseball's loneliest road can become.
