The scariest story of the Major League Baseball season broke this past week when ESPN reported that Cleveland Guardians right-hander Luis Ortiz was being investigated by the league for gambling-related activity.

A betting integrity firm used by MLB noticed unusually high wagering activity on two proposition bets placed in games where Ortiz was one of the starting pitchers. In each case, Ortiz was accused of throwing a pitch out of the strike zone on purpose. MLB placed him on paid leave for now.

The best-case outcome: The league and the firm it uses to find abnormalities, IC360, are mistaken and have made false allegations. Ortiz’s reputation still would be tainted or ruined, and MLB would have a huge problem because the safeguards they put in place to prevent dishonest play and dishonest wagering didn’t work — and somehow spat out a false positive.

No matter how the Ortiz case is resolved, its mere existence opens up MLB to all kinds of questions about how it can reliably protect itself from players whose focus isn’t necessarily winning the game. Not to mention: opening itself up to a huge lawsuit from Ortiz, who is going to be viewed with suspicion forever, no matter what happens next.

If he’s guilty, fans in all corners of the league would wonder, fairly, what else might be fixed.

It’s exactly why owners hired a commissioner in the first place, amid the 1919 Black Sox scandal. Rob Manfred, conversely, continues to come off as the anti-Kenesaw Mountain Landis. Whether it’s partnering with sports wagering companies or twisting himself into a legal pretzel to remove Pete Rose from the permanently ineligible list, Manfred has played fast and loose with gambling. He’s pretty cocky, considering MLB’s history with it.

On the surface, Ortiz turning out to be guilty would not be the same as members of the Chicago White Sox in 1919 being found to have lost the World Series on purpose. All that Ortiz is accused of, to this point, is throwing two pitches out of the zone on purpose so that bettors could win “microbets.” You see? It’s just a microbet. Micro means small, so it’s no big deal. It’s not like Ortiz was accused of losing entire games on purpose — against the Seattle Mariners on June 15 and against the St. Louis Cardinals on June 27.

The rationalization police are knocking. Ortiz’s accusations are much like shaving points — a euphemism used more frequently in basketball gambling for someone not quite giving their best effort, even if they happen to win the game — so gamblers can take advantage of the point spread.

Ortiz’s team also didn’t happen to win either of the games that IC360 flagged. Those watching him — whether human eyes or computer — might not have found any other examples of Ortiz not giving his best effort. But hypothetically, if any major league pitcher really did tank two pitches, there’s no reason for anyone to trust their effort for the rest of the game or in other games. This person should not be allowed to play anymore.

Some used to give Pete Rose the benefit of the doubt because he always claimed — once he changed his story and stopped denying it entirely — that he only bet on the Cincinnati Reds to win. The credulous fools of the world are free to believe whatever they like, and they will. But as soon as anyone starts betting on the games in which they play (or manage), their primary motivation becomes winning the bet — not winning the game. At that point, integrity loses itself, and contests split into different things with different motivations. On an MLB team, it’s 25 players trying to win a game and one gambler trying to win something else. Fans should not want this.

It was thought that with players making the salaries they do, the danger of sports leagues getting chummy with legalized sports betting companies would come from somewhere else. Umpires, for example. Or anyone aside from the guy making $800,000 or more.

Hardly a year ago, MLB suspended multiple individuals for gambling, and it suspended another player for life for betting on his own games. They fired an umpire for questionable behavior related to a friend who gambled and used the umpire’s phone to do it. They also investigated Shohei Ohtani’s interpreter for gambling on non-MLB games using Ohtani’s money.

And now there’s Ortiz — who might not be guilty. But even if he’s innocent amid a remarkable coincidence, MLB still has a huge integrity problem, which Manfred confronts as if it’s a series of isolated incidents and not a malignancy.