Rob Manfred, the commissioner of Major League Baseball, talks a better game than he plays. As a talker, he hits .750; as a player, he bats .091.

We’re not talking baseball here; we’re talking baseball diversity.

We’ve talked baseball diversity often in this column, more often than some readers might like. But every time I think about putting the subject on hold, especially Manfred’s questionable comments and diversity efforts, he or his surrogates make an outrageous or meaningless statement.

More often than not, reporters and headline writers are his unwitting surrogates because they take his comments seriously and mislead their readers, never questioning his actions or lack thereof. No one asks him to explain the failure of his plans to expand the minority population in the important seats in major leagues front offices or managers’ seats in dugouts.

“We see our social responsibility programs as a form of engagement with fans,” The Washington Post recently quoted Manfred in an article with the headline ‘With new diversity goals, MLB tries to change its image as an old [white] boys club.’

“Having shared social concerns with people increases their affinity with the institution. This isn’t particular to baseball – the area of corporate responsibility has received a lot of attention lately. But when you hold yourself up as the national pastime, [it] is particularly important.”

Those are some pretty fancy words, but whatever words Manfred uses he doesn’t back them with action. Perhaps he has a problem communicating with his employers. The owners obviously don’t want to be told whom to hire. They especially don’t want to be told to hire an African-American or a Latino or a woman.

Manfred is a month short of completing his second year as commissioner. During his tenure, clubs have hired or promoted 22 general managers and chiefs of baseball operations. Twenty-one are white men. The lone exception is Al Avila, the Detroit general manager.

When all of those white guys were being hired, where was the Rob Manfred who 15 months ago, according to a baseball official, “pushed” the Milwaukee Brewers to name David Stearns their general manager because he worked under Manfred in the commissioner’s office?

Did Manfred run interference for any black, Latino or Asian and push any club to hire him or her?

“We’re going to take some high profile baseball operations positions, starting with field manager, and try to do a study about qualifications and characteristics that may be predictive of success. I think a little science in that area may be helpful to us in terms of identifying candidates who will be particularly appealing to clubs.”

Those remarks prompt two questions:

1.  Is the commissioner suggesting a front-office version of the popular metric W.A.R.?

2.  Why should Major League Baseball need to establish qualification and characteristic standards for minorities when no such standards exist to determine worthy white guys?

My view of No. 1 is we have enough metrics for on-field achievements without creating one for guys who sit at front-office desk. As for No. 2, Manfred’s idea borders on racism, if it doesn’t cross the line.

Manfred’s pride and joy, it seems, is the Pipeline Program he initiated last year. The idea is for MLB to identify bright young minorities, deposit them in the pipeline and push them through until they are ready for the majors.

“I am 100 percent committed to the Pipeline idea. We need to do a better job of making sure we hire, at the entry levels, minority candidates that we can promote and develop.”

Manfred named Tyrone Brooks to direct the Pipeline program, and therein lies a tale.

Between the past two seasons, many teams were seeking general managers. No one has ever admitted it, but it appeared four teams plotted to enable them to meet the 1999 requirement to interview a minority candidate for a decision-making position.

It was as if the four teams picked names out of a hat, but the plan was far more sophisticated, with each team interviewing a different minority contender. Milwaukee interviewed Brooks of Pittsburgh, Seattle interviewed Dana Brown of Toronto, Quinton McCracken of Houston was Boston’s choice and the Angels interviewed Chris Gwynn of Seattle.

None of the four, of course, got the job of general manager; they weren’t intended to. Unknown to them, they were playing a role. They were all midlevel executives, not ready to be general managers.

Ready to be a general manager but seldom interviewed by anyone, De Jon Watson, a black candidate, continues to be the central figure in an annual mystery.

Among baseball people, Watson is considered the most qualified who doesn’t have a general manager’s job. “He’s the most qualified by resume,” said a former g.m.

Why, then, won’t clubs even interview him? I don’t know, but I have a theory. If a club interviews him and doesn’t hire him, it would have to explain why, and it could find that process awkward.

What baseball should find awkward now is Watson doesn’t have a job. The Arizona Diamondbacks, for whom Watson was senior vice president of baseball operation the past two years, didn’t exercise his option for 2017.

“De Jon is still looking for a landing spot,” a friend of Watson told me in an e-mail. “Nothing finalized as yet. The DBack situation was so screwed up with La Russa and Stewart, the only bright spot they truly had was De Jon but they wouldn’t let him call the shots. I just hope it doesn’t have a lasting effect on De Jon.”

In thinking more about Watson’s situation, I wonder if he has become a victim of baseball’s metrics age. That, if so, would be unfortunate, but teams these days are looking for younger men recently out of college who are immersed in metrics and analytics.

Watson is 50. Maybe the baseball world has passed him by. That would be unfortunate and sad.

Maybe, too, the world of baseball’s white owners has passed minorities by, not that minorities have ever had a time that was theirs. Maybe, as I have suggested before, owners are prejudiced and won’t put their expensive properties in the hands of blacks and Latinos.

Even if that is so, the commissioner has to do a far better job than he has done of convincing club owners that they need to consider more seriously expanding the diversity of the people running teams on and off the field.

Unfortunately, Manfred hasn’t demonstrated he is capable of doing that. Exhibit A:

In August 2015, he hired an executive search firm, Korn Ferry, to help find minority candidates and prepare them for major league jobs. Recently, after paying the company millions of dollars and citing numerous conflicts of interest, he fired the firm.