The thing about baseball is it’s honest. It doesn’t play politics. If you can do the job, you win. If you can’t, you don’t.

Simple as that.

There are no shortcuts to the top. No backstabbing to get ahead. No nepotism to get the corner office.

Baseball doesn’t say, “Oh, you’re the nephew of the guy who runs east coast sales? Okay, then you go stand on third.” Nope, baseball makes you hit a triple to be able to stand on third. You have to earn the right. It’s not given to you.

Baseball isn’t a bouncer behind a velvet rope who decides who gets to avoid the line and who has to wait.

Baseball doesn’t say, “Oh, you’re on the VIP list? Then right this way, Mr. Hamels, Mr. Darvish.”

No, baseball makes you earn your way into the club. A 13.94 ERA from the starters doesn’t get you access into any door, no matter who you think you are.

Baseball is honest. And sometimes the truth hurts.

If you’re not really a centerfielder, you will be found out. It will tell everyone. If you’re not a great second baseman, the truth will come out. There’s no covering up for a friend. There’s either getting it done or not getting it done.

Baseball is honest. And whether anyone wants want to admit it, Toronto’s core four on offense are better than Texas’s. Donaldson, Encarnacion, Bautista and Tulowitzki are much better than Beltran, Beltre, Odor and Lucroy.

Baseball is honest. And the truth shall set you free—from the playoffs.