Inside a box atop a table in the Orioles’ clubhouse, the little slips of paper hold the charges of each misdeed, awaiting judgement from the court — the Kangaroo Court. It’s a system as old as baseball itself, often kept out of the public eye.
But for Baltimore, there’s nothing to hide. The potential charges include being late for a team meeting, missing the national anthem or sleeping in the clubhouse. Then there’s a special rule, one that right-hander Jordan Lyles concocted: “General stupidity (field/clubhouse/anywhere),” it reads.
What falls under “general stupidity?”
“You know it when you see it,” infielder Chris Owings said.
It’s all part of the elaborate judicial system of a major league clubhouse, with a greater focus on laughs than real discipline. The fines vary from $50 to $500, depending on the severity of the infraction. When court is in session, no one can speak unless called upon by the judge, and while a player can appeal a charge, losing an appeal leads to double the fine.
For as long as first baseman Trey Mancini has been with the Orioles, there hasn’t been a Kangaroo Court setup. But he first experienced it at a youth baseball camp and again at Notre Dame — “you throw guys in for doing kind of questionable things,” he laughed — and with the addition of several veterans such as Lyles, catcher Robinson Chirinos and Owings, the system took shape in Baltimore this month, joining the Orioles for the first time on the recent road trip to St. Louis and Detroit.
They haven’t held court thus far this season. But as the box gets heavier, with about 20 slips of paper in there, that’s sure to come soon.
“The day we pull them all out and read them off, I’m sure it’ll be funny,” first baseman Ryan Mountcastle said. “It’s getting close.”
May 8, 2022. (Kenneth K. Lam/Baltimore Sun Staff)
When Mountcastle experienced the Kangaroo Court in the minor leagues, the fines hovered between $5 and $20, more reasonable sums for players making far less than those in the bigs. He still can be taken aback slightly by the price of infractions, so he’s never entered another player’s name.
He knows he’s in there, though. When he slid into second base and hurt his ankle on May 8, he assumed he was out. He began walking off the field until manager Brandon Hyde told him to stay on the field. Right-hander Logan Gillaspie might make an appearance in Kangaroo Court, too, after he threw the ball from his first major league strike to the dugout rather than saving his first strikeout ball.
“Guys are starting to, if they catch themselves, they’re a minute or two late to the meeting, they’re putting themselves in,” Mancini said. “That’s been pretty cool, too. But even more than that, it’s kind of a fun thing for the team to do. Team bonding. That’s the best part of it.”
The Orioles haven’t decided who will be the judge yet, although Lyles guessed it would likely be himself or Mancini and involve wearing a wig. There are also jurors selected to deliberate whether the player in question is guilty, leading to the fine. All the money pooled goes toward an end-of-season team dinner — a reward for putting up with the silly legal system that has infiltrated the Orioles’ clubhouse.
“It’s a long season,” Lyles said. “Guys make mistakes and don’t use their brain a lot and get called out for it.”
