MLB isn’t short on drama—it just keeps changing the script. While Ronald Acuna Jr. dances around the bases and Rob Manfred polishes baseball’s public image, one former Red Sox isn’t buying the act. He’s not pointing fingers at Acuña specifically, but he’s had enough of the circus. To him, MLB’s new era looks less like evolution and more like an unregulated casino with cleats.

Ronald Acuna Jr. has become a household name in Atlanta. All that flare and hype has become his identity along with baseball. He is always known for his celebrations after his home runs. But some just call it over-celebration. Ex-Red Sox player Jeff Fryer also seems to have problems with it, more specifically, with MLB and its lack of professionalism.

In a recent tweet, he used one of Ronald Acuna Jr.‘s celebrations and dragged MLB in the mud. “Unfortunately, it is now not only accepted but encouraged by Rob Manfred and his gambling henchmen to act like a fool when you have success on a @MLB baseball field even when your team sucks… Anyone remember when MLB players were expected to act like Professionals?” 

Major League Baseball has been rocked by a rash of gambling scandals in recent years. From lifetime bans like Tucupita Marcano’s to high-profile suspensions of players, the league’s integrity is under siege. Even officials have stumbled, with notable cases involving umpires and team staff. Each incident chips away at trust in the game.

These infractions have reverberated through clubs and players alike. Lives and careers are derailed over indiscretions often rooted in temptations. The fraud involving an interpreter’s access to a superstar’s account further darkened the reputational damage. Suddenly, baseball’s image resembles a casino more than America’s pastime.

This trend paints MLB with a dangerously tarnished brush. The league’s partnerships with sportsbooks now feel hypocritical. Ultimately, gambling controversies threaten baseball’s core: Fair competition over financial gain.

When postgame highlights look like Vegas promos, it’s time to check the scoreboard—and the rulebook. Jeff Frye’s sarcasm isn’t just bitterness; it’s a mirror held up to a league losing its grip. Celebrations are fine, but when flash overshadows fairness, baseball stops being a sport and starts being a spectacle. MLB can’t gamble its soul for ratings forever. At some point, the house always wins—and it’s rarely the fans.

MLB has a big problem with gambling, and they have to get together

The suits at MLB headquarters can put on a good face, but even Rob Manfred can’t spin this roulette wheel fast enough. Gambling isn’t just a side bet anymore—it’s barging into dugouts and sliding into DMs. As the league cashes checks from sportsbooks, it’s also writing suspensions like parking tickets. Integrity is the prize, but MLB might be betting on borrowed time.

Gambling in baseball isn’t some ghost from the Black Sox past—it’s back, and louder. With names like Tucupita Marcano banned for betting on his own team, the problem is no longer theoretical. Umpires are under suspicion, minor leaguers are suspended, and sportsbooks are ringing the alarms. MLB isn’t shocked—it’s just cornered by a crisis it thought it could monetize.

To its credit, MLB has thrown the rulebook at the offenders, hard and fast. Rule 21 posters, mandatory spring training sessions, QR-code warnings—it’s all there, stuck to every clubhouse wall. They’ve partnered with data watchdogs, sportsbook tip lines, and regulatory eyes that never blink. But while detection has improved, prevention still looks like a losing bet.

Fans now weaponize their losses, sending threats over missed strike calls or blown saves. Players face online abuse, stadium security upgrades, and there is constant social media monitoring just to feel safe. Baseball is meant to be a game, not a trigger for rage-fueled gamblers. If MLB keeps dancing with sportsbooks, it risks trading its soul for sponsorships.

The warning signs aren’t subtle—they’re flashing in neon and screaming through betting slips. MLB can’t claim ignorance when the dugout is one tap away from a betting app. If the league wants to preserve its legacy, it must stop acting like a casino host. Protect the game, protect the players—or prepare for a future where the scoreboard isn’t the only thing rigged.