So what would it take for Manfred to be given the bum's rush out of This, Our Baseball? The terse answer is that it's not going to happen, at least not any time soon. The longer answer -- the kind of answer that lends itself to 1,500 words of web-based copy -- involves looking backward to prior holders of the office.
Manfred is the 10th commissioner of baseball, so it's perhaps instructive to note what became of past commissioners -- i.e., how they came to no longer be commissioners. Of the nine non-Manfred MLB pit bosses, two died in office -- Kenesaw Mountain Landis (served from 1921-44) and Bart Giamatti (1988-89) -- and another three stepped down of their own volition -- Ford Frick (1951-65), Peter Ueberroth (1984-88), and Bud Selig (acting commissioner from 1992-98, elected commissioner from 1998-2015). That leaves four commissioners who were in essence forced from the role.
Happy Chandler (1945-51) failed to secure a second term as commissioner largely because he too often put the interests of the players and the game itself ahead of those of the owners. As well, Chandler's support for integrating the major leagues put him at odds with most team owners of the day. Since the commissioner serves at the pleasure of the owners, it's prudent to make them happy. Chandler did not.
William Eckert (1965-68) seemed woefully miscast in the role and particularly for the challenges that greeted him during his tenure. Specifically, owners doubted that Eckert was a capable enough leader to keep in check the fledgling Players Association under Marvin Miller, and his handling of expansion was ham-fisted at best. That lack of confidence plus a number of public gaffes caused owners to force Eckert's resignation well before his term was up.
Eckert's successor, Bowie Kuhn (1969-1984), failed to secure a third term for an array of reasons. Chief among them were a 50-day players' strike during the heart of the 1981 season occurring on his watch, personal grievances with a number of owners whom Kuhn had disciplined during his time in office, and significant turnover within the ranks of ownership that whittled down his base of support.
Then comes Fay Vincent (1989-92). Vincent, who assumed office following the sudden fatal heart attack suffered by Giamatti, was eventually forced to resign by a healthy majority of team owners. While Vincent occasionally operated in an owner-accommodating manner, he also at times hewed toward what he thought was best for the game of baseball independent of other considerations. In 1990, for instance, he held a press conference after the owners voted to lock out the players and proposed ending the lockout in exchange for a "no strike" pledge from the union. Vincent made the bold offer without the consent of owners (or players, for that matter). Vincent also scolded the owners for, in essence, undertaking the lockout in a fit of pique over the hundreds of million of dollars they were forced to pay out because of collusion against free agents. As well, the ban he levied against Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, his initial opposition to the sale of the Seattle Mariners, and an attempt to mandate divisional realignment added to the perception among clubs that Vincent was exerting too much power. He paid for doing so.
At this point, it's worth revisiting a quote from Marvin Miller, the pioneering union head mentioned above, about the role of the commissioner:
"All commissioners are controlled by the owners (who) retain the real power. And every baseball commissioner must eventually learn that reality or find himself unceremoniously booted out of his job."
Manfred has curried sufficient favor with those who will decide his fate as commissioner. That's why it's going to take labor calamity or a wide-ranging reversal of economic fortunes for Manfred's job to be imperiled.