American Scandal - Houston Astros: Caught Stealing | Dark Arts | 3

Episode Date: October 29, 2024

By 2017, the Houston Astros are one of the most dominant teams in Major League Baseball. But the team also takes sign stealing to new heights when they discover a unique – and illegal – way to signal those signs to batters in real time. But as the team mounts a World Series run, some opposing coaches and players begin to grow suspicious of their hitters’ uncanny ability to anticipate pitches.  Need more American Scandal? With Wondery+, enjoy exclusive seasons, binge new seasons first, and listen completely ad-free. Start your free trial in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, Spotify or visit wondery.app.link/IM5aogASNNb now.  See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hi, this is Lindsey Graham, host of American Scandal. Our back catalog has moved behind a paywall. Recent episodes remain free, but older ones will require a Wondery Plus subscription. With Wondery Plus, you get access to the full American Scandal archive, ad-free, plus early access to new seasons and more. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. podcasts. It's spring 2017 in Houston, Texas. The Astros' new bench coach, Alex Cora, is hurrying down a windowless corridor inside Minute Maid Park. The team is set to take the field in a few hours, and Cora is already in his white Astros uniform.

But before the game starts, he needs to visit the video replay room, which is located deep within the bowels of the ballpark. The league ordered teams to install these replay rooms just a few years ago, so teams can use instant replays to challenge umpires' rulings on the field. But the Astros, like other teams in the league, soon realized that the replay room presented additional opportunities during a game. For the first few weeks of the season, they've had one of their stadium's cameras focus squarely on the opposing team's catcher, and someone in the video room has logged and decoded his signs using Codebreaker, the Astros' secret catalog of opposing teams'

hand signals for different pitches. And for the past several games, the Astros have been experimenting with how to relay these signs to their hitters, but so far the process has been slow and cumbersome. Someone from the replay room has to call Cora in the dugout on a phone that rings loudly and tell him the sign sequence. Then someone in the dugout has to use hand signals to relay the signs to a runner on second base, who has to then signal to the batter what pitch is coming. It's convoluted, and Cora isn't happy with the system. So he's heading to the replay room to talk with a man who's usually on the other end of the dugout phone,

Tom Koch-Bazer, who's in charge of gathering data about opposing teams. Cora steps through the half-open door to the video replay room, and Koch-Bazer leans back in his chair to see who's there. TV monitors glow in front of him, showing footage of a recent Astros game from several different camera angles. Hey, Tom, got a minute? Always, Alex. What brings you to this humble corner of Minute Maid Park? Well, I want to talk about the signs. Sure, what's on your mind? Well, for one thing, the phone's too damn loud. Yeah, that ringer's like something out of the 80s, I know.

I mean, you can hear it from the field, and people are starting to look over wondering why I'm getting so many calls. We've got to try something else. Well, we could go back to the Apple Watch. Oh, that was obvious, too. Plus, it's all too many extra steps. By the time the hitter gets the signs, he's already got two strikes against him. Yeah, well, I just don't know if there's any other way to signal fast enough. I still got to send the signs through the dugout, and by then

the pitcher's already on to his next pitch. I don't know. I think our setup here in the stadium isn't helping, Tate. You know where the Yankees have their replay room? Right behind the dugout. If they need to relay information, they don't have to make a long-distance call to do it. Yeah, well, that must be nice. Right? I mean, for all we know, they are sending signs directly to the hitter. Meanwhile, our replay room is back behind the clubhouse. I think we're at a disadvantage here. Well, how do we make our system more efficient? Well, I have an idea. What if we set up a monitor closer to the dugout, like right behind the dugout? In the tunnel? Yeah, I mean, it doesn't need to be fancy, just a monitor on a table or something. It'd be like our own little mini replay room. Makes sense, but how could I explain needing a TV near the dugout? It doesn't have an obvious

purpose. I guess if anyone asks, tell them it's for players to look at their own at-bats, you know, so they can make in-game adjustments. Well, I guess that's what we're trying to do, make in-game adjustments. All right, well, I'll run it up the chain and see what happens. Cora thanks CokeBazer, and as he turns to head back to the dugout, he feels a new spring in his step. Soon, Cora's players will be able to see a close-up, high-definition view of the other team's signs whenever they want during games. And with help from their Codebreaker spreadsheet, they'll be able to decipher those signs. It could be just the edge they need to make it to the playoffs and maybe even the World Series. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of scandals and deadly crashes

that have dented its once sterling reputation. At the center of it all, the 737 MAX. The latest season of Business Wars explores how Boeing allowed things to turn deadly and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Make sure to listen to Business Wars wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. By the end of the 2016 season, the once-ridiculed Houston Astros had become a winning team, thanks to a culture focused on innovation, especially when it came to using data and technology to gain competitive advantage. General Manager Jeff Luno drew on his business background to bring a moneyball approach to the Astros, using analytics to identify undervalued players and new technologies like high-speed cameras to help those players improve their pitches and swings.

To baseball purists, Luno's methods were controversial, but they did produce results. And going into the 2017 season, Luno believed the Astros were poised to make a World Series run. So before the season kicked off, Luno, his front office, and his coaching staff got to work adding some final pieces to the team. They hired former player and ESPN analyst Alex Cora as their bench coach and signed veterans like Carlos Beltran to add depth and experience to the team. Cora and Beltran were two of the game's brightest minds, and both were

experts at sign-stealing. They also had both adapted to the new realities of baseball's high-tech era, when players found themselves with access to smartwatches, high-definition cameras, and video replay rooms, all of which could be leveraged to take sign-stealing to another level. Other teams were already pushing boundaries with electronic sign-stealing, which to many players occupied a gray area in the game's rules. It was technically illegal to use any on-the-field technology to help decode catcher signs, but Major League Baseball had mandated the installation of video replay rooms in every ballpark, and those were off the field.

Some felt that surely the league did not expect players and coaches to ignore how these replay rooms could be used to analyze other teams' signs. To Beltran, Cora, and many of their teammates, the Astros needed to get on board with science dealing for the 2017 season and use all the tools at their disposal to maximize results. They suspected that other teams like the Yankees and Red Sox were already using technology in creative new ways. So if the Astros wanted a real chance at a championship, they needed to keep pace. This is Episode 3, Dark Arts. This is Episode 3, Dark Arts.

It's spring 2017 inside Minute Maid Park. Antonio Padilla carries a large, sealed cardboard box into the corridor just behind the Astros' dugout. He sets the box on the concrete floor, cuts through the tape, and carefully slides out a new flat-screen TV. Padilla isn't sure what the TV is for, and he hasn't asked. As one of the youngest employees in the Astros' video replay room, some things are above his pay grade. But now, as Padilla unwraps the TV's cables, he tries to make a few guesses about what it might be used for. He knows it can be hard to see the field from the back of the dugout, so maybe this is just a way for more players to watch the game. Or maybe it's to speed up instant replay reviews.

But he doesn't want to ask too many questions at this point. All he knows is that the request to install it came from the Astros bench coach Alex Cora. And that's enough for him. Because if he makes a good impression with Cora and the other Astros coaches and players, and helps the team do whatever it takes to win more games, there could be something in it for him.

Not just a promotion, but potentially a bonus. If the Astros make it to the playoffs, they can earn a lot of extra money from postseason ticket sales, and teams often use some of that money to pay bonuses to select clubhouse employees. Padilla knows that a playoff bonus can amount to hundreds of thousands of dollars. His salary is only $45,000 a year, so that kind of money would be life-changing. So Padilla hoists the TV monitor onto a folding table against the wall, which is painted bright Astros orange.

Then he squats down to plug the power cord into an outlet. He stands back and turns the TV on. The monitor glows to life. For now, it's just a blank blue screen. Someone else will have to come by and connect the TV so that the team can see whichever camera angles they're hoping to see. But Padilla's part of the job is done. And soon enough, he'll find out what this mysterious new monitor is for.

job is done. And soon enough, he'll find out what this mysterious new monitor is for. It's unclear how many people within the Astros organization understand the new TV monitor's actual purpose. But soon, it becomes the focal point of the team's obsession with sign-stealing. The monitor is hooked up to the center field camera, giving the Astros a live feed of the opposing catcher's signs just steps from their dugout. During home games, massage beds and folding chairs are placed near the monitor, and different players and staff members are assigned to sit there, watching the catcher's hand signals and decoding them in real time. And now that the team no longer has to wait to get signed from the video replay room deep in the bow bows of the stadium,

they're also no longer reliant on having a runner on second to relay signs to the hitter. Instead, they begin to experiment with other ways to relay signs directly from the dugout to the batter, so he knows what's coming with every pitch. This gives many Astro hitters a new confidence at the plate, and their opponents start to take notice. In late May 2017, the Astros sweep a three-game series against the Baltimore Orioles. Their hitters dominate Orioles pitchers so thoroughly that by the end of the final game, Baltimore's veteran manager Buck Showalter has grown suspicious. Showalter has been a big league manager for 19 seasons and approaches games with nearly a sixth sense.

And that sense tells him something isn't right. So as soon as he gets back to Baltimore, he calls a meeting with Orioles general manager Dan Duquette to discuss what went wrong. They sit down together in Duquette's office, overlooking the field at Camden Yards, the Orioles' home ballpark. Now look, Dan, I'm not trying to make excuses for three straight losses, but it was pretty clear to me that the Astros had our signs. Hmm, I had the same thought.

The Astros had good stuff last night. It didn't make sense to me that they tagged them for six runs and two innings. Yeah, and I was looking to see how they were doing it. I get that other teams might steal our signs. That's part of the game. But what bothered me is that I couldn't figure out how the Astros were doing it. Every time, even without someone on second. I mean, to track what we were doing that closely, they would have had to have someone camped out on second base in a lawn chair. Well, so maybe they weren't stealing signs. Maybe it was something else. I thought about that too. Minute Meg Park has those new super bright LED lights in the outfield.

Maybe their eyes were just better adjusted? They could pick up on pictures better? But nah, I don't think that's it. Yeah, who knows, but it didn't seem right. How's Asher holding up? The rest of the pitching staff? Well, they were pretty rattled. I mean, they'll be okay.

I did tell them we need to change up our signs more often. All right, thanks, Buck. You let me know if you hear anything else, though, about the Astros. If they're up to something, I want to know what it is before we play them again. Oh, you bet. I'll keep an ear out. Show Walter rises and walks out of his GM's office. He knows he needs to focus on getting his players ready to face the Yankees tonight,

and in order to do that, he's going to have to help them shake off their experience in Houston. But questions around what the Astros were doing are still churning in his mind. And despite decades of experience in Major League Baseball, Joe Walter can't think of any answers. In order to relay stolen signs to their hitters and evade the notice of savvy opponents like Orioles manager Buck Showalter, the Houston Astros landed on a simple, very low-tech solution. All it required was a baseball bat and a trash can. During home games, an Astros player or staff member would stand in front of the TV monitor behind the dugout,

watching a center field feed of the opposing team's catcher. Once they had the signs, someone would use a baseball bat to bang on a nearby plastic trash can loud enough that the Astros hitter could hear the signal over the crowd. One or two bangs meant a change-up was coming. No bangs means the pitcher is about to throw a fastball. The trashcan system is not perfect. For one thing, it only works at home games, where the Astros players have access to their dugout monitor.

And some hitters don't think the system is precise enough to make much of a difference. The bangs don't tell them anything about a pitch's location, only its speed. But still, many of the Astros believe it gives them an advantage at the plate, and soon the trash can becomes a regular part of their home game routine. But regardless of whether players think the trash can system is working or not, one person who doesn't seem to have an opinion is the team's general manager, Jeff Luno. Some members of the Astros organization who are in on the scheme begin to wonder if Luno is even aware that is going on. Usually, baseball GMs don't sit anywhere near the dugout. Some don't

even attend the games at all. So it's possible that Luno is just out of the loop. But in the video replay room, Tom Koch-Bazer is doing his best to keep Luno informed. Twice, after long road trips, he emails Luno detailed notes about the team's overall performance. And in his emails, without going into too much detail, he references the video monitor and trash can operation, calling it the system and our dark arts sign-stealing department. But when Luno responds to these emails, he never asks for more information about the system

or clarification about how the Astros are stealing signs. So later in the season, when Luno knocks on the door of the video replay room during a game, Koch-Weser still isn't sure how much Luno knows about the sign-stealing operation. When he pops his head into the replay room, Luno says he's simply making the rounds, so Koch-Weser invites him in to have a look around and tells Luno to let him know if he has any questions about the way anything works. Luno nods and turns to the bank of monitors, which are beaming live footage from seemingly every angle in the stadium. Koch-Weser watches as the GM's eyes move from the monitors to the guys seated in front of them,

some of them with laptop computers displaying the codebreaker spreadsheet. When Luno sees this spreadsheet, he turns to Koch-Weser and asks if they're codebreaking right now. For a moment, Koch-Weser hesitates. Luno can be hard to read, and Koch-Weser still can't tell how much Luno knows about the sign-stealing operation, or even whether or not he approves of it. So Koch-Weser isn't sure how much Luno knows about the sign-stealing operation, or even whether or not he approves of it. So Koch-Weser isn't sure how much he should reveal about the inner workings of the scheme. Finally, he just gives Luno a strong nod and tells him, yes, they're doing what they can.

Koch-Weser feels a sense of relief when he sees Luno smile. Then Luno tells the guys in the replay room to keep up the good work. He wraps his knuckles on the doorframe and leaves. Everything they're doing seems to be working, including using the replay room and video monitor behind the dugout to steal signs. And it sure seems to Coke Basin like they just got Jeff Luno's blessing to keep on code-breaking. On January 5th, 2024, an Alaska Airlines door plug tore away mid-flight, leaving a gaping hole in the side of a plane that carried 171 passengers. This heart-stopping incident was just the latest in a string of crises surrounding the aviation manufacturing giant Boeing.

In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of damning scandals and deadly crashes that have chipped away at its once sterling reputation. At the center of it all, the 737 MAX, the latest season of business wars, explores how Boeing, once the gold standard of aviation engineering, descended into a nightmare of safety concerns and public mistrust. The decisions, denials, and devastating consequences bringing the Titan to its knees, and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation.

Now, follow Business Wars on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge Business Wars, The Unraveling of Boeing, early and ad-free right now on Wondery+. I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mum's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery Plus. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey

to help someone I've never even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post by a person named Loti. It read in part, Three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge, but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me,

and it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health. This is season two of Finding, and this time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. By the end of July 2017, the Astros are one of the most dominant teams in the league. They're winning two out of three games and have a 16-game lead over the nearest competitor in their division.

To the members of the team who've embraced the trash can system, this record is evidence that their sign-stealing strategy is producing results. Even so, not everyone in the dugout is happy about it. Astros manager A.J. Hinch doesn't approve of the illicit sign-stealing efforts, but he's afraid to shut it down. Hinch has only ever served as a manager one other time in his career, and that job did not end well, in part because Hinch wasn't able to earn the respect of his clubhouse. Back in 2009, after a successful career as a catcher and front office executive,

Hinch had been hired to manage the Arizona Diamondbacks. And at just 34 years old, Hinch was the youngest manager in the league by far, and the veteran members of the team weren't especially interested in hearing what he had to say. Under Hinch's leadership, the Diamondbacks posted their lowest winning percentage in franchise history, and Hinch was fired after just one season. Now, more than a decade later, Hinch still struggles to maintain authority in the dugout, especially when it comes to disagreeing with veteran player Carlos Beltran, who's only three years younger than Hinch and already has a Hall of Fame-worthy career. So for Hinch, going against Beltran risked turning the whole team against him. So instead of confronting the sign-stealing issue directly, Hinch occasionally

just asks his players to quit it with the banging or mutters to fellow coaches that he wishes they wouldn't do that. And even among the players who do support the sign-stealing operation, there's disagreement about how much the trash-can scheme has improved their hitting. Some players think that the banging is just a distraction. One of the players who feels this way is Astros' second baseman, Jose Altuve. Since joining Houston in 2011, Altuve has proven himself to be a formidable hitter, despite being undersized for a major leaguer. During the 2016 season,

he led the American League with a.338 batting average, including a career-high 24 home runs. In 2017, he's on track to put up even bigger numbers. But in the middle of the season, during Juan Astrosros home game, Altuve finds himself struggling to focus at the plate. He raises his bat, looks over his left shoulder toward the pitcher, and then he hears a bang-bang from the dugout.

A slow-moving change-up sails toward him. He hesitates, then decides not to swing. But the pitch tumbles right over the plate, and the umpire calls strike one. Altuve shoots a dirty look at the Astros' dugout, then steps back into the batter's box. He gazes out at the pitcher, who winds up and throws again. This time, it's a fastball. Altuve swings, but misses for strike two. Altuve then stretches his neck and tries to settle himself. He's faced this pitcher

before and he knows his tendencies. And now that he has a chance to finish Altuve off, he'll probably come back with another fastball. The pitcher goes into his windup. Altuve clutches his bat. He watches the ball come off the pitcher's fingers. And just as it does, he hears another two bangs. Trying to calculate what that means in his head, Altuve swings a half second too early and misses the pitch for strike three. Altuve marches back to the dugout, trying to mask his frustration. But the second he's out of view of the fans, he glares at his Astros teammates before continuing into the tunnel behind the dugout,

where another teammate is standing in front of the TV monitor, a baseball bat in his hand and the trash can at the ready. Altuve snaps to stop it with a banging when he's at bat. He can hit just fine without it. The player sheepishly nods and promises it won't happen again. But for the rest of the game, when other guys go to hit, Altuve continues to hear that hollow banging sound. He doesn't begrudge his teammates doing whatever they think they need to do to gain advantage, but he wants no part of it. While the Astros' hitters continue to debate whether the trash can scheme is actually helping their game, the team's pitchers are having their own tough conversations about sign-stealing.

For many in the Astros' bullpen, it's difficult to watch a fellow pitcher, even an opponent, face hitters who know what pitch is coming. It puts even the best pitchers at a disadvantage, and for some, gives batters an unbeatable edge. In one August game against the Toronto Blue Jays, Astros hitters humiliate opposing relief pitcher Mike Bolsinger, who gives up four runs, three hits, and three walks while just getting one hitter out. Bolsinger loses his job after that game

and never pitches in the major leagues again. So many Astros pitchers know that if they were in that position, they'd be livid. Still, no one speaks up or tries to put a stop to the trashcan scheme. They may well feel bad for opposing pitchers, but the pressure to close ranks and cover for their teammates outweighs any feelings of guilt. Besides, most players and coaches on the Astros feel certain that the other teams in the league must have similar operations going. To the Astros, using their dugout monitor

and trash can system is just keeping up with the times. And the fact that they keep winning games is only proof that their current sign-stealing system is better than anyone else's at the moment. Still, when the team brings in a new pitcher to strengthen their chances for a possible World Series run, players are nervous about the way he'll react to the scheme, especially because they used it on him. the way he'll react to the scheme, especially because they used it on him. In August 2017, the Astros acquired Justin Verlander in a late-season trade with the Detroit Tigers. Verlander is considered one of the best pitchers in baseball. He's pitched two no-hitters and led the league in strikeouts four times. But when he faced off against the Astros earlier in the year, he pitched an uncharacteristically terrible game.

So now, as the Astros prepare to welcome their new star pitcher, they're a little leery of revealing how they were able to get the best of him. Verlander, for his part, has to settle in quickly on a new team with only a few weeks left in the season. He spent his whole career pitching for the Tigers. So when he enters the clubhouse locker room for the first time, he's feeling some first-day nerves. And immediately, Verlander also clocks a strange energy in the room. The other players seem to be avoiding eye contact, and they're barely talking. At first, Verlander chalks it up to Hurricane Harvey,

which just ravaged Houston with devastating floods. The Astros had to move several home games to Florida while the city cleaned up the damage. They're all probably still reeling from that. But when his new teammates keep giving him the silent treatment, Verlander finally decides to try to break the ice. At a quiet moment in the locker room, he speaks up. Hey, hey guys. Yeah, if you would, I just want to say, you know, I'm happy to be here. Really. Now I'm even happier I don't have to pitch against you guys anymore. This gets a few chuckles, but most of the locker room remains quiet until one

player, who's twisting a towel around his hands, walks up to Verlander and reluctantly speaks. Hey, Justin, welcome to the team. I'm sorry some of us have been acting kind of weird. You don't have to apologize. I mean, the hurricane was hard on everyone. I'm sure a lot of your homes got flooded. Neighbors? It's not that. We just don't know how to tell you. Tell me what? Well, when you pitched against us in May, we had your signs. Well, I knew something was up in that game. I couldn't figure out how you were doing it, though. You knew what was coming even when nobody was on second.

Yeah, we did. So how'd you do it? What's the secret? Well, we've got a live video feed of the catcher set up near the dugout. When we see what he's signaling, we, uh... The player hesitates, and Verlander senses that whatever he's about to say next, he's not proud of. Yeah, and you what? We bang on a trash can to let our hitter know what pitch is coming. Trash can? Yeah. One or two means something off speed. No bangs means a fastball. That's it. That's your system, a trash can. That's it. But I mean, we respect you, though,

and we're really happy you're here. I guess we just didn't know how to come clean about it. But, I mean, we respect you, though, and we're really happy you're here. Well, I guess we just didn't know how to come clean about it. I mean, you would have figured it out soon enough once you started hearing all the banging, right? Berlander leans against a locker and considers this. He thinks back to that week in May when the Tigers lost three out of the four games against the Astros at Minute Maid Park. He remembers the frustration he felt after what he thought was a bad performance. But then he just bursts out laughing. You sneaky bastards. A flippin' trash can, huh? I knew you guys were up to something. You're not pissed? Nah, I mean, I got a hand to you guys. We were stumped. We had no idea. Paws, I'm pretty sure Cleveland's got something similar going on. Honestly, it's like if you don't have a system right now, you're screwed, right?

And like I said, I'm glad I don't have to pitch against you anymore. Verlander starts to unpack his bag and change into his uniform. The atmosphere in the room has shifted. He can feel it. His teammates look relieved not to be in trouble. But Verlander has been around baseball long enough to know that teams push the rules to their limits. He can remember the steroid era, when hitters used performance-enhancing drugs. He's even seen pitchers doctor balls and hitters alter their bats. And it seems obvious teams would start to use replay rooms to steal signs, even if this is the first time he's heard about it firsthand. So far be it for him to judge.

Besides, all he wants to do is wrap up this season with the Astros on a high note. Verlander has had a successful career so far, but like many guys on the team, he's yet to add a World Series victory to his resume. If the Astros have a system that's working, he's not going to be the one to stop it. have a system that's working. He's not going to be the one to stop it. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Cone. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about.

Everybody know ain't no party like a Diddy party, so. Yeah, that's what's up. But just as quickly as his empire rose, it came crashing down. Today I'm announcing the unsealing of a three-count indictment, charging Sean Combs with racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, interstate transportation for prostitution. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom, but I made no excuses. I'm disgusted. I'm so sorry. Until you're wearing an orange jumpsuit, it's not real. Now it's real. From his meteoric rise to his shocking fall from grace,

from law and crime, this is The Rise and Fall of Diddy. Listen to The Rise and Fall of Diddy exclusively with Wondery Plus. As summer turns to fall in 2017, the Houston Astros continue to use their dugout monitor and trash can to relay stolen signs to batters. But they are not the only team in the league taking advantage of electronic sign stealing. In early September 2017, just one month before playoffs, news breaks that the Boston Red Sox have been using Apple Watches to communicate signs from their video replay room to the dugout.

According to reports, an investigation was launched after the GM of the New York Yankees reported the Red Sox to the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, Rob Manfred. The Red Sox quickly responded by filing a similar complaint against the Yankees, and after the investigation, Major League Baseball determined that the Yankees are also guilty of illegal sign-stealing. Ultimately, neither team receives a severe punishment. Both are fined small amounts, but no games are forfeited and no players or coaches are suspended. But the fines set a clear precedent. For the first time, the commissioner has punished sign-stealing schemes that involve the use of video replay rooms. And in a memo sent to all 30 Major League

teams on September 15, 2017, Commissioner Manfred reiterates that use of the replay room to decode signs during games is considered cheating. He also vows to hand out harsher punishments for teams caught using video and other electronics to steal signs in the future. So when word of this warning reaches the Astros' offices in Houston, it strikes fear into the hearts of some members of the club, including Tom Koch-Bazer. Sitting at his desk, reading through the commissioner's full memo, Koch-Bazer feels his pulse quicken.

He knows the system he playfully calls the Dark Arts absolutely meets the criteria for illegal sign-stealing. And if Manfred's memo is to be believed, the Astros can't afford to risk getting caught. So Coke Baser rises from his desk and anxiously walks over to the office of one of his superiors. Hey, sorry to bother you so late, but I need to get your approval on something.

Hey, Tom, what's going on? You look stressed. I'm not stressed. I mean, I am, but I can take care of it. What is this about? Well, I just think with everything going on, we have to stop Codebreaker, like, immediately. So if we could just get everyone aligned on that...

Oh, what's wrong with Codebreaker? Last I heard, everyone seems to love it. Well, they do, but... Wait, wait, what exactly did you hear? That you guys are having a great run using it to figure out sign sequences before games. You heard that we use Codebreaker before games? I guess sometimes after games? I mean, depending on when someone can watch tape and plug signs into the spreadsheet, right?

Well, so I don't think we have an issue here. Are you worried about the Manfred memo? Well, I mean, maybe not everyone in the front office is aware of this, but we've also been using Codebreaker during games. The executive falls silent for a moment, taking this in. And he looks down at some papers on his desk. Ah, okay. Well, thanks for bringing this to my attention.

Don't mention it to anyone else for now. I need to decide how best to my attention. Don't mention it to anyone else for now. I need to decide how best to handle it. The executive doesn't look up again, so Koch-Bazer mutters a thank you and slinks out of the office. As he walks back to his desk, Koch-Bazer's mind races. He wonders if his boss really didn't know about the in-game sign-stealing. And if that's true, who else in the front office is unaware? Or maybe Koch-Fazer just inadvertently broke a code of silence and ruined the plausible deniability the higher-ups could have claimed if the sign-stealing scheme gets exposed.

All he really knows is that if the Astros don't stop using Codebreaker during games, this whole situation could cost the team dearly. At this moment in time, Tom Cook-Bazer is not the only one trying to put a stop to illicit sign-stealing in the Astros' clubhouse. Manager A.J. Hinch's exasperation with the scheme is starting to boil over. On two separate occasions, he damages the TV monitor near the dugout, but it proves futile. After each episode, a new monitor is installed to replace the old one, and Hinch still never directly calls out any of the players or coaches involved. But then, finally, at the end of September, the Astros find themselves on the verge of getting

caught red-handed. In a game against the Chicago White Sox at Middlet Made Park, the Astros bang their trash can, signaling to hitter Evan Gattis that the White Sox pitcher is about to throw a changeup. And for the first time all season, the opposing pitcher seems to hear the banging. White Sox pitcher Danny Farquhar steps off the mound to convene with his catcher. And then when he returns to the mound, the Astros notice that the catcher is no longer throwing signals at all. To the guys in the dugout, this feels like proof that Farquhar has figured out what they're up to.

For a moment, there's panic in the Astros' dugout. The players quickly take the TV monitor down and the trash can goes silent for the rest of the game. But the Astros face no questions about what happened at that game in September. And for the remainder of the regular season, the Astros barely use the trash can at all. They don't really need to. They're so far ahead in the standings that they've already clinched a playoff spot. But after the Farquhar incident, they're also paranoid about getting caught. And then, in the playoffs, their first opponents are the Boston Red Sox. And in a best-of-five series, the Astros come out on top.

Next is the American League Championship Series, a seven-game contest against the New York Yankees. And again, the Astros are victorious, defeating the Yankees four games to three. It's unclear whether the trash can was used in either of these series. Later, some players would say they heard banging while others denied it, also pointing out that teams use more complex signs in the postseason that are harder to steal, and the crowd noise at sold-out, high-stakes games would have drowned out the banging. But with or without the sign stealing,

the Astros have won two straight playoff series, and now they have a chance to win the first World Series in the franchise's history. For general manager Jeff Luno, all his hopes, dreams, and strategic decision-making have been leading to this moment. Now it's up to the players to carry the Astros across the finish line and bring home the championship. The Astros are up against the Los Angeles Dodgers, and the series is a slugfest. The teams trade wins and losses until the series is tied at three games apiece. Game seven in LA on November 1st will determine the winner. And in the first two innings, Astros hitters jump all over the Dodgers' ace starter, Hugh Darvish. They score five runs and

carry a 5-1 lead into the late innings. And in the bottom of the ninth, with two outs, Astros' second baseman, Jose Altuve, punches his glove and tries to calm his nerves. He crouches down, keeping himself light on his feet and his focus sharp. Altuve has spent his entire career with the Astros and seen the team through its lowest moments. They may be up four runs, but he's not going to relax until they've got that third and final out. He watches Astro pitcher Charlie Morton, who stands on the mound, staring over his glove at home plate.

Dodgers stadium churns with a low roar of fans, punctuated by high-pitched whistling. Then, finally, Morton winds up and throws. For Altuve, it's as if time slows down. The Dodgers' hitter swings hard, his body twisting violently. Altuve tracks the ball as it comes off the hitter's bat and bounces through the infield right towards him. Altuve then scoops the ball into his glove, then throws it to first base,

where teammate Yuli Gurriel catches it for out number three. And before Altuve can fully process what just happened, he realizes he's screaming with joy. His teammates sprint toward each other, leaping through the air to embrace. Altuve races to join them. A single finger raised in the sky, they are number one. The Houston Astros have just won the

World Series. The swarm of Astros players wrap their arms around each other, jumping up and down on the field in celebration. Altuve is overcome with happiness. He can barely believe how far this team has come. The next hour is a blur. There are more on-field celebrations, interviews with reporters, and champagne bottles popping in the clubhouse. This is the proudest night of Jose Altuve's life, and he knows his teammates all feel the same way. The Houston Astros are champions, and nothing can take that away from them.

From Wondery, this is Episode 3 of Houston Astros Caught Stealing for American Scandal. In our next episode, after the World Series celebrations wind down, suspicions about the Astros ramp up around the league, and a former teammate-turned-whistleblower threatens to expose the team's cheating scheme for all of America to see. scheme for all of America to see. If you're enjoying American Scandal, you can unlock exclusive seasons on Wondery Plus. Binge new seasons first and listen completely ad-free when you join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a survey at wondery.com slash survey.

Tell us about yourself by filling out a survey at wondery.com slash survey. If you'd like to learn more about the Houston Astros sign-stealing scheme, we recommend the books Winning Fixes Everything by Evan Drellick and Cheated by Andy Martino. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details. And while in most cases we can't know exactly what was said, all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga.

Sound design by Gabriel Gould. Music by Lindsey Graham. This episode is written by A.J. Maraschall. Edited by Emma Cortland. Fact-checking by Alyssa Jung-Perry. Produced by John Reed. Managing producer, Olivia Fonte. Senior producer Andy Herman. Development by Stephanie

Jens. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman, Marsha Louis, and Erin O'Flaherty for Wondery.