Bradford William Davis: If Sandy Alderson wants to change baseball’s broken culture, he should start with himself

NEW YORK — Hours after firing Jared Porter for sexually harassing a woman correspondent in 2016, and minutes after exposing her privacy, Sandy Alderson promised he would “change the culture” that allowed Porter to get this far.

“Don’t be discouraged,” Alderson said during his Tuesday press conference specifically to the women watching. “Though the incident itself is discouraging. I think the response to it by the organization should be encouraging.”

While Alderson is now calling for change, his conduct during the interview perpetuated the problems he wanted to solve.

In the same press conference, Alderson revealed the woman’s nationality, which was withheld in the ESPN story. This is crucial: The woman wanted her identity private, and that information being public narrowed the field. Later that evening, Mina Kimes, one of the reporters who broke the story, lamented that it was no longer private. SportsNet New York (better known as SNY — the cable broadcasters of the Mets) edited out Alderson’s reveal, though the damage had already been done. Though the network isn’t owned by Steve Cohen, but the Wilpons’ — the edit implies that his transgression was serious.

Alderson declined to answer any further questions regarding the incident when contacted on Wednesday.

In a criminal case, state-level “rape shield” laws are in place to protect an accuser’s identity. In a situation like the Mets have on their hands, it is incumbent upon those involved to act with the appropriate discretion, and to make themselves aware of what should and should not be shared. Even if it was an honest slip by Alderson, it is one that betrayed, at best, the kind of carelessness that has no place in a serious investigation.

If Alderson’s comments demonstrated anything to a person with the kind of information that could prevent the next scandal, it was that the Mets organization cannot be trusted to protect them. That’s a big problem, especially when Alderson and the Mets have proved incapable of seeking out such people on their own.

When asked whether or not he used any women while vetting Porter, Alderson said no.

“That’s one of the unfortunate circumstances that exist in the game today. There aren’t women in those positions with whom one can have a conversation and develop information or check references.”

Alderson’s honesty is admirable, in a narrow sense, as these background conversations are supposed to be kept in private — which we were reminded might be too much to ask from a decades-long baseball exec. It’s easy to lie, but he didn’t. But the question is not one of malice but of neglect.

The traditional references for Porter may have been men — that turned out well — but there was nothing stopping the Mets from widening their field of vision. How did he work with lateral staffers? With subordinates? Or for that matter, with reporters?

Alderson’s argument also makes it harder for women to provide the kind of information that would prevent the next Porter. Why would anyone striving for the responsibility, authority and intellectual rigor that comes with a promotion snitch on a powerful man when they know their opinion about that man doesn’t count without said flashy title?

Nobody, especially if they can’t trust the person asking, and they want to keep the job they have.

Self-fulfilling prophecies aside, Alderson expressed his regret that such a culture would exist in his sport. Even for the men in his field. The Mets president said he had not heard his players share their perspective on the issue, but referred to one player who called Porter’s behavior “f---ing disgusting” after the story broke, but kept his name anonymous to speak freely and avoid the fallout.

“I wish he’d had the comfort to voice that opinion himself for attribution,” said Alderson. “It was the right thing to say.” This is a much better public response than snitches get stitches, so good for Sandy. But during Alderson’s first stint with the Mets, at least one of his former subordinates claimed he was pressured against speaking publicly about problems in the game, then punished for refusing to conform to the company line.

Nick Francona, the son of Cleveland manager Terry Francona, routinely criticized MLB and its franchise’s handling of critical problems in the game, including an alleged coverup of a sexual assault while working for the Dodgers. When he joined the Mets, Francona was outspoken about the league’s lack of transparency about how the revenues from “pro-military merch” promoted on Memorial Day (i.e. Mets hat but with army fatigues instead of orange and blue) were being allocated.

And he put his name behind his words. Back in 2018, Francona said of his dismissal:

“They called me in and said, ‘You’ve done a great job here, really had a huge impact. You’ve also had a big impact on the veteran stuff with Major League Baseball, but your comments aren’t compatible with having a career in baseball. So we’re going to have to part ways.’”

Transparency has its limits.

But don’t reject Alderson’s approach just because it’s discriminatory, self-defeating, hypocritical, or inexcusably sloppy. It’s also incorrect.

Raquel Ferreira, a current assistant general manager is a mainstay with the Boston Red Sox and overlapped with Porter for 11 of her 22 seasons with the franchise. She has worked in numerous leadership roles before her current job and was the Director of Minor League Operations when Jared Porter got his internship with the 2004 Boston Red Sox. The child of Cape Verde immigrants, she is one of just four women to ever hold her current title, and one of two Black women.

Even if you accept Alderson’s logic — and, again, don’t do that — not speaking to Ferreira is an abject failure on his own terms.

Alderson delivered his remarks with conviction, empathy, sincerity, and honesty. Those are essential traits, but they count for nothing without results. Unless Alderson takes his “wake-up call” seriously enough to change his approach, we’ll be reading another story like this, having the same conversation, lamenting all the people who left baseball without understanding how even those who remained pushed them out.