Back in January, I posited that the best-case scenario for the Mike Clevinger investigation didn't exist, at least as far as White Sox fans are concerned.
Some White Sox fans might argue that the best-case scenario did occur on Sunday, as Major League Baseball announced that it closed the investigation into the domestic violence and child abuse allegations with no discipline imposed. Sports is supposed to be a distraction from real-world issues, play ball, go Sox.
Other White Sox fans might not trust the findings of a league investigation into an abusive relationship because it's tough to resolve them cleanly, especially when there are financial imbalances or children involved. The mechanism that made Clevinger disappear was their best-case scenario, because that makes it way easier to use baseball as an escape.
The details of the investigation will probably remain private, so no third party can gauge the merit of the allegations. Clevinger's accuser said she just wanted him to get help, and Clevinger said he'll comply with any board-recommended treatment. Is that a brokered acknowledgment of mistakes in order to continue a shared livelihood? Is he not expecting treatment to be recommended because he really didn't cross such lines? Is that just the easiest way to put it all behind him, and if treatment is prescribed, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it? Who knows.
So the tension will linger, and maybe fester, and a lot of it is specific to Clevinger. Were any other offseason addition in Clevinger's shoes, it'd probably be easier to set the mess aside because I'm not aware of any similar documented notoriety elsewhere on the roster. Here, Rick Hahn cited Clevinger's history of immaturity as a risk they had to calculate, and then Clevinger reinforced that notion by acting as though he had no idea what Hahn might've been referring to. If he ends up involved in a fourth spectacle during the 2023 season, nobody can claim surprise.
Personally, it was in my interest to have Clevinger removed from the proceedings because talking about him -- and hosting discussions about him -- sucks. Don't just take it from me: Lucas Giolito corrected course not long after getting his first question about Clevinger.
But unless we expected the White Sox to cut Clevinger because of standards they lacked when they hired their previous manager, his removal would've necessitated the confirmation of the allegations to some severe extent, and that's not something to wish for, either.
Giolito called it good news, and then revised his statement. That feels fitting, because any time I think one (feasible) outcome is truly superior to another, I think again.
White Sox fans are left to negotiate Clevinger's presence among themselves, which isn't the first time the front office has saddled their customers with such a gift this decade. These conversations just happen to be far more fraught, and more likely to turn fans against each other.
The reason why Giolito instinctively called Clevinger's continued presence "good news" is because it theoretically eases burdens on coaches and teammates who didn't deserve to have their jobs made harder. Pedro Grifol has enough on his plate independent of Clevinger, so his managerial debut should be supported. Guys like Sean Burke shouldn't have their development compromised because the White Sox fell into an avoidable emergency. Applied more generally, the rest of the 26-man roster needs all the depth it can get in what looks like a 162-game uphill climb.
In this sense, I'm regarding Clevinger like roster asbestos. Ideally, he wouldn't be around anymore, but the Sox don't want to pay the expenses for removal when it'll remediate itself in a year, and he might actually serve his original purpose of insulation if there are no disturbances. There just happens to be a pattern of disturbances, and if what's settled becomes unsettled, it's going to make a lot of people sick.
