Always have. Always will. Whether it’s the grit of the South Side, the heartbreak of the Pacific Northwest, or the classic swagger of St. Louis, I bleed White Sox black, Mariners teal, and Cardinals red—sometimes all at once, depending on how much bourbon is in the glass and how bad the bullpen’s blowing it. Baseball is a game of rules, rhythm, and respect for the fundamentals. If you ignore those, it doesn’t matter how loudly you argue with the umpire—you’re still out.
Which brings us to Indiana Attorney General Todd Rokita, who is currently trying to argue his way out of a pretty clear call at home plate. Spoiler: it’s not going well.
We’re now in the middle innings of In the Matter of Theodore Edward Rokita and the attorney general is down in the count. His legal team is flailing at procedural fastballs and arguing balls and strikes while the Indiana Supreme Court Disciplinary Commission is quietly racking up outs with disciplined filings and unimpressed precision.
Let’s recap the inning. Rokita was already slapped with a public reprimand last year after he admitted to violating professional conduct rules. Part of the deal? He filed a sworn affidavit agreeing he wouldn’t publicly defend himself. Not even a full inning later, he stepped up to the podium and blasted out a press release denying any wrongdoing, claiming vindication, and accusing the commission of politically motivated retaliation. Imagine a player signing a contract, then immediately going on ESPN to say he never agreed to anything and that the front office is full of crooks.
That’s not just bad form. That’s a fastball begging to be crushed—and the commission obliged. Their latest briefs accuse Rokita of violating the very agreement he signed, misleading the public and the Court, and basically treating Rule 23 like a rain delay instead of a binding set of professional obligations.
In response, Rokita fires back with a motion to dismiss and a double shot of political drama. He claims the commission is running a vendetta, that the discovery process is rigged, and that one of the commission members recusing himself proves the whole system’s corrupt. In baseball terms, that’s the legal equivalent of arguing the strike zone after taking a called third strike you clearly watched sail by.
The commission, for its part, isn’t even swinging. They don’t need to. Their argument is built on the rulebook, not rhetorical flair. They point out that Rokita hasn’t followed the required procedures, including failing to file an answer as required under Rule 23. They remind the court—gently—that you don’t get to file a motion to dismiss before the disciplinary umpire (aka hearing officer) is even appointed. And they completely dismantle the idea that “free speech” protects you from consequences when you publicly contradict a sworn legal filing.
Rokita’s whole strategy here feels like a guy trying to bunt his way out of a grand jury indictment. He’s relying on the “deep state bar association” narrative and hoping that yelling “lawfare” loud enough will cause the game to be called on account of feelings.
But here’s the thing: the game doesn’t care if you’re the attorney general. The umpire doesn’t ask for polling data before calling you out. And when the commission accuses you of violating the same rule you just agreed to, claiming political bias is a bit like blaming the bat for your whiff.
Rokita also insists the commission is stonewalling discovery—demanding emails, communications, and maybe even the commission’s secret handshake. The commission responds with receipts: they answered, followed the rules, and even produced documentation. Rokita just didn’t like what he got. In baseball, we call that “swinging at shadows.”
Bottom line: this isn’t a close call. The commission has the cleaner record, the tighter defense, and they’re playing textbook ball. Rokita’s argument is more like a blooper reel—entertaining, occasionally dramatic, but not exactly persuasive.
Unless the Supreme Court decides to rewrite its own ethics rulebook mid-game, this one’s headed to a hearing—and Rokita’s going to need more than a war story and a mic drop to get out of it.
Because right now, the commission is ahead in the count, and Todd Rokita is standing in the batter’s box, guessing fastball, getting curveball, and still swinging like the rules don’t apply to him.
And that, my friends, is how you strike out looking.
