I haven’t been to a spring training game since 2011. I don’t remember the game as well as I remember the events that led up to it. I’d spent two years temping at a bank depository near JFK airport, tracking the transactions of gold, silver, platinum, and palladium bars. Losing track of a gold bar worth half a million dollars wasn’t really an option, so it was a pretty high-pressure job for a 25-year-old making $19 an hour. Because we had to know the market price of gold at all times, I can tell you that for each month I worked, I earned the equivalent of a single gold coin. I gave my notice in January, and in February I took my meager savings and booked a trip across the country by Greyhound bus. After I wore out my welcome with my sister in California, I visited my friend Alex in Arizona and we caught a Reds game at Goodyear Park. Yesterday, I dug up an email exchange from when I was planning my escape. Alex asked how long I expected to be gone; were we talking days or weeks? “We are talking weeks,” I wrote back. “We are talking about quitting my job and getting the f*** out of here.”

This long walk of a lede is intended to introduce two themes. The first is that most fans don’t get to see much of spring training. We’ve only got so many vacation days, and most of us don’t live near Florida or Arizona. All the games are day games, and even when they’re televised, we can’t exactly watch them in the middle of a work day. I’d venture to say that I’m a pretty big baseball person, and it took a minor existential crisis to get me to my one and only Cactus League game. As a result, spring training is both the time when we’re thirstiest for baseball news and the time when we’re most dependent on beat writers for it.

As always, beat writers are watching the games we can’t and talking to the players and coaches. They’re also getting a much more expansive view than they have during the regular season. They’re observing on the backfields during bullpen sessions, infield drills, live batting practice, and the occasional cabbage race. You might hear through a team spokesman that Rafael Devers has started taking grounders, but a beat writer like Jen McCaffrey, who covers the Red Sox for The Athletic, can put you right there, watching Devers scoop balls off a strip of turf tucked behind a metal fence, with Kristian Campbell looking on and Vaughn Grissom shooting baskets while he waits his turn.

“I knew that Devers would be doing some of his separate,” McCaffrey told me, explaining how she prepared to get that shot. She left the team’s clubhouse availability early to make sure that there was a spot from which she could film him. Given the awkward location, she couldn’t do much about the quality of the video, but she knew that any news about Devers would be welcome. “I figured people are probably interested. What’s he doing? How’s he preparing? People have a lot of questions about him.”

That brings us to our second theme, which is mission creep. I’ve been thinking about it a lot during spring training, specifically because of videos like that one. I first heard the phrase in a book about the space shuttle program – astronauts trying to keep their schedules from getting so overloaded with experiments that they wouldn’t be able to keep up – but mission creep can come in many forms. I think about it most often in a work context. You start a job with a certain set of responsibilities, but somehow, you just keep accumulating new ones until you’re completely buried. When I started at the bank depository in 2009, my job was to help out with the paperwork on trades. I was just an extra pair of hands, and not a particularly busy pair. “You should probably bring a book,” my boss told me on my first day.

Sitting at my desk – a plastic folding table that generated enough static electricity to solve the global energy crisis – I read the complete works of Shakespeare cover to cover. I read the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey” and Infinite Jest, but I also started to get busier. By the time I gave my notice, I had been told to knock it off with the reading. I was using four redundant systems to track the thousands of bars and coins that entered and exited the warehouse. I tracked them on paper, and on a creaky — literally — IBM ThinkPad from the 1990s, I tracked them in a gargantuan Excel spreadsheet, a 1970s computer program straight out of Apollo 13 mission control, and a new, web-based program that didn’t quite work yet.

For beat writers, technology and social media are huge sources of mission creep. Over the past several years, it’s become standard for writers to respond to fan questions on social media, as well as to post pictures and video from batting practice, live play-by-play of the game, and the most interesting quotes from their pre- and post-game interviews. It’s a huge amount of work, and it steals time away from the core job of writing about the team. This article is specifically about pictures and videos from spring training, which have proliferated in recent years. When Blue Jays pitchers and catchers reported to Dunedin, MLB.com’s Keegan Matheson posted long videos of bullpen sessions from directly behind the catcher. Curious how Max Scherzer would look coming off an injury-riddled 2024 season? You could judge the break on his changeup and see the life on his fastball for yourself, because Matheson was willing to stand there keeping his phone’s camera lens perfectly aligned with a hole in the chain link fence as 93-mph heaters bore down on him.

After growing in popularity of for years, this kind of video has reached critical mass. For the last two weeks, my Bluesky feed has consisted of two things and two things only: soothing videos of ballplayers beneath blue skies, tuning up for the season on quiet backfields, and frantic missives documenting the collapse of American democracy. I reached out to several writers to talk about these videos, both because I can’t get enough of them and because this is more fun to talk about than the second thing.

The first thing I learned is that this particular form of mission creep is not mandatory. Everyone told me that while finding new ways to engage with potential readers is obviously a good thing, it’s not something they’re asked to do, and several mentioned that Twitter doesn’t generate much traffic for their publications anymore. Still, the practice has become standard. Spencer Nusbaum, who covers the Nationals for the Washington Post, told me in an email that he started taking videos as a way to reinforce his handwritten notes, but “started posting (some of them) because other people were doing it.” Said McCaffrey, “When I started covering the team 10, 11 years ago, I think it was out there, but I feel like over the past decade or so, it’s definitely become a thing that beat writers have leaned into.” Andy Kostka, who covers the Orioles for The Baltimore Banner, called it “a practice I do without stopping to wonder why.”

The obvious appeal is that after a long offseason, people really want to know what’s going on with their team. “It’s mostly a spring training thing for me,” said Peter Abraham, the Boston Globe’s baseball columnist, in an email. “People seem to like seeing the players for the first time in a while, the new guys especially.” Beat writers tend to hear plenty of criticism about their coverage of the team, so the opportunity to deliver something that people are truly excited to see is gratifying. “Especially at this time of the year,” Kostka said in a DM, “the dopamine hit of sending a video and seeing fans super amped for a rudimentary task is pretty great. Video of someone lightly tossing a baseball? Some guy replies: ‘This gave me life.’ … It helps me a little remember that I’m pretty lucky to do this.” Dan Hayes, who writes about the Twins for The Athletic and has been covering spring training since 2007, reminded me in a DM that, like most baseball writers, he started out as a huge fan: “I’m afforded access that most fans will never experience. Not only does the company send me to Florida at a time where 99 percent of my followers are freezing, but I’m allowed into certain areas of the park that [are] restricted to fans. Giving them a sense of what goes on here is fun.”

As Hayes mentioned, the videos also show us a part of the game that we just don’t get to see. The jobs of players and coaches look very different during the first few weeks of spring training, and we only glimpse them through this particular form of media. “The access is great,” said Nusbaum, who noted that he’s sometimes so close to the action that he has to be careful about blocking the view of the coaching staff. “The press box at Nationals Park is a million feet in the air when the games are going on. Also, we’re typing away as the action is happening during the season. We can be a few feet away from the action here, unencumbered by laptops. We can see, for instance, what the pitching coach is trying to teach 15 feet away. It’s fun to document that visually.”

The access doesn’t always mean that the videos are easy to get, however. Sometimes phones break or run out of memory. Sometimes it’s just awkward. “Trying to record through holes in the fence from a pretty bad angle,” Nusbaum said. “Yeah, that’s absolutely the worst part.” The extra work that goes into this also presents an extra opportunity for critics. “I’ve had fans yell at me more so for quality,” said McCaffrey. “One guy was like, ‘You need to do horizontal instead of vertical video,’” she said, laughing. “I was like, ‘OK, alright. Calm down, buddy.’”

During the regular season, a player can make 600 plate appearances, but as the pictures and video demonstrate, spring training is its own kind of pressure cooker. During live BP, it’s not at all uncommon to see the entire coaching staff, prominent members of the front office, and a cadre of players posted up directly behind the catcher, watching intently through the legs of the extra-large tripod that holds the portable Trackman unit.

Said McCaffrey, “I don’t know how other teams do it, because obviously I’m following the Red Sox throughout the spring, but every time a guy pitches, pretty much the entire pitching staff comes out and watches him. It’s kind of interesting and a camaraderie thing.” At Jet Blue Park in Fort Myers, she stayed zoomed out for several videos of live BP. The skewed angle allowed her to capture the action on the field, some of the prominent spectators, and the live Trackman feed on the right field scoreboard. Not only could you watch Garrett Crochet dispose of Roman Anthony, but six days after pitchers and catchers reported, you could see that he was already in midseason form, his four-seamer hitting 97 mph with 15 inches of induced vertical break. “That’s also something I like to try to get in there too,” she said, “so fans that are into the analytics side of the game can see some of the numbers of what guys are working on in practice, and how pitches are landing or moving.”

At the same time, there’s so much going on throughout the complex that writers also have the chance to catch something no one else sees. “You never know when something is going to add some color to your story,” Nusbaum said. “In spring training, because of the access, because you can head over to a backfield that no one else is at or talk to the prospect that you might only see once during the actual season, you can get some truly unique scenes.” He often keeps those moments off social media, stashing them in his back pocket for use during the grind of a long season. “That might seem counterintuitive, vis a vis engaging with fans. But at the end of the day, my primary job is to write, and sometimes I want to save a video until the story is out. Because there’s probably context there that fits with a story rather than a tweet.”

What I personally love the most about these videos is the fact that they look like what they are: cell phone videos taken by regular people. “I don’t have the best technology,” said McCaffrey. “It’s just my iPhone, so it’s not like I can do too much about that.” I think we tend to forget about how beautifully baseball is packaged most of the time. The picture at the top of every article was selected by an editor from a dozen competing options, all of them taken by a ridiculously talented professional sports photographer with a shelf full of awards at home. The same goes for the camera operators who shoot the games for television, and they’re just part of a production team brandishing the latest technology to make the game look gorgeous. John DeMarsico, who directs Mets broadcasts for SNY, is fond of saying that baseball is cinema, and that’s never been more true. But for these few weeks during spring training, we get to see it through a less cinematic, more personal lens. We see it in 12-second clips with the wind whipping in the background, shot on whichever phone a reporter has in their pocket, from whatever odd angle they can finagle.

For a couple weeks, we get to see the game through a completely different lens, both literally and figuratively (or as the kids say, flitteratively). I don’t mean to say that the gorgeous version of baseball that we see for most of the year isn’t real, but it is undeniably stylized. Even on a quiet getaway day, it’s presented with grandeur. It feeds into the mythos of the game, the idea of baseball, the one you can’t not be romantic about. I just enjoy seeing the scruffy edges. Sure, baseball is an idea, but they make it feel more real to me, more personal.

Even when I explained it to them, people had trouble wrapping their heads around my job at the bank depository. When you think about investing in gold, you probably just imagine clicking a button on the computer or asking a financial advisor to click a button on the computer. An extra graph appears on your Charles Schwab splash page; now you’ve invested in gold. To you, it’s just the idea of gold. But it’s also real, and not particularly glamorous. You have to buy it on the commodities exchange and pay a storage fee. I sat in a gross, windowless office next to a gross, windowless warehouse stacked high with pallets of tarnished 1,000 ounce silver bars. For a couple years, when your financial advisor clicked that button, I would end up getting a fax, writing a transfer order, logging it in four separate places, and handing a carbon copy to Sylvia, who handed it to Garry, who handed it to Mike, who carried a specific gold bar from one part of the vault to another. “It’s sort of like if you traded for Derek Jeter on your fantasy team,” I’d explain, “and then a clubhouse attendant had to load him up on a cart and wheel him over to the other side of the locker room.”

“There are two types of realist,” Robert Frost wrote. “The one who offers a good deal of dirt with his potato to show that it is a real potato. And there is the one who is satisfied with the potato brushed clean. I am inclined to be the second kind. To me, the thing that art does for life is to clean it, strip it to form.” I’m inclined to be the first kind. I can’t help it. I like hearing the strings squeak as the guitarist’s fingers scramble up the fretboard. It makes me feel like I’m there in the room. I love that there’s a little window of time when baseball’s acres and acres of dirt don’t get cleaned up. “I’m certainly not a good photographer,” Abraham said. “If I like a photo I’ll post it. That’s really about it. Once the games start and people can watch NESN, I’ll dial back unless it’s something unusual.”

On my last day at work, my colleagues Chubby and Sylvia gave me a going away present: a one-ounce bar of silver. I’ve still got it. At Goodyear Field, Alex and I were excited to see Aroldis Chapman throw a ball faster than anyone else on earth could throw a ball, and, if my memory’s right, I think we did. I remember walking across the grassy parking lot. I remember eating chili dogs in the shade of the concession stand, so focused on not spilling anything on our clothes that we didn’t notice the foul ball coming until it landed right at our feet and caromed off the wall right in front of our faces.

Spring is the time of year when we wax poetic about possibility. “Behold,” we say to ourselves as we remember the feeling of the sun’s warmth on our skin, “we have once again foiled the earth’s attempts to murder us with subzero temperatures and an unceasing barrage of unrelentingly cheery and/or horny Christmas songs. The time for survival is past; now is the time to thrive.” Among baseball players, pitchers stand alone in their capacity for reinvention. They have the chance to add a new weapon, and in so doing level up into an entirely new pitcher. After all, what are we if not a collection of our attributes? Maybe you used to be a sinkerballer, but once you added a slider, you evolved into an entirely new species: the sinker-slider guy.

I spent Wednesday afternoon trawling through search results and Jeff Zimmerman’s indispensable Mining the News feature looking for reports of new pitches. The fruits of that labor populate the table below, and they are legion. As it turns out, even MLB: The Show has finally added a sweeper. Beneath the table, I will spend a sentence or three on each of the 21 pitchers who is reportedly working on a new offering. Not all of these pitches will actually make it into a regular season game. Fewer still, possibly even none, will have a discernible impact on a player’s season or career. But that shouldn’t keep us from dreaming on them. There are some really big names here. Maybe Kevin Gausman’s new cutter will run interference for his four-seamer, returning him a while longer to the fraternity of undisputed aces. Who are we to deem any future unreachable before even attempting the journey? Read the rest of this entry »

Geraldo Perdomo is not leaving Arizona any time soon. On Monday night, Mike Rodriguez reported that the Diamondbacks and their switch-hitting shortstop had agreed to a contract extension, which is for four years and $45 million, includes a club option for a fifth season, and starts in 2026, according to ESPN’s Jeff Passan. The 25-year-old Perdomo has just over three years of big league service time, so the deal will buy out his final two arbitration seasons and at least the first two years after he would’ve reached free agency. Perdomo was an All-Star in 2023, and he put up 2.0 WAR in 2024 despite an April knee injury that limited him to 98 games. He’s now set to spend the entirety of his 20s providing the Diamondbacks with a throwback blend of solid shortstop defense and an absolute refusal to swing the bat.

Perdomo got a cup of coffee in 2021 and played his first full season in 2022, running a 59 wRC+ that limited him to just 0.3 WAR. In 2023, he earned an All-Star nod on the back of a torrid, BABIP-fueled start that saw him with a 200 wRC+ on May 3. He quickly came back to earth, but ended up running a 117 wRC+ in the first half and a 74 wRC+ in the second half, for an overall mark of 98 and 2.3 WAR. Perdomo missed just over two months due to a torn meniscus in 2024, but he put up a 101 wRC+ and his second straight two-win season. Essentially, he’s been a bit better than league average for two seasons now, and that was enough to convince Arizona to lock him down for the entirety of his prime. Perdomo and the Diamondbacks had already avoided arbitration by agreeing on a $2.55 million salary for 2025, and the new deal will add a $5 million signing bonus to that. He’ll receive a $5 million salary in 2026, then $8 million in 2027, $11 million in 2028, and $13 million in 2029. The Diamondbacks also have a $15 million club option for 2030, with a $3 million buyout should they choose not to exercise it. There are also incentives for a top-10 finish in the MVP voting.

That’s a pretty big commitment, even bigger when you consider the fact that the Diamondbacks have shortstop Jordan Lawlar, whom Eric Longenhagen just ranked our 14th overall prospect. Let’s talk about why the Diamondbacks feel Perdomo is worth extending, even if it means blocking the best prospect in their system.

Personally, I think Perdomo is one of the most fascinating players in the game. He came up as a glove-first shortstop prospect, and he certainly looks the part, but the advanced defensive metrics have been split on his performance for his entire career.

For his first two seasons, DRS thought he was costing the Diamondbacks runs. Then in 2024, the season when he missed time due to a major leg injury, it thought he was one of the best shortstops in baseball. Statcast has pretty much seen him as neutral throughout his three-year career, while DRP thinks he’s been great with the exception of 2023. Clearly, though, the Diamondbacks believe in his defense.

On offense, Perdomo is just plain weird. I know I summarized his overall offensive performance earlier, and those numbers are pretty standard – he’s been right around league average for two straight seasons – but it’s important to understand how he got to those numbers. For starters, Perdomo cannot stop bunting. Over the past three seasons, Perdomo has laid down 66 bunts, the most in baseball. His 33 sac bunts are also the most in the game; only three other players have even reached 20. His 15 bunt hits rank eighth, but among the 61 players with at least six bunt hits over that period, his 23.8% bunt hit rate ranks dead last. Even more damning, he leads baseball with 52 foul bunts. According to Baseball Savant, those fouls have cost the Diamondbacks four runs. That’s the worst number in baseball.

The bunting is genuinely a problem, but it fits perfectly with Perdomo’s overall approach at the plate, because that approach could be best summed up as “Try with all your might to avoid swinging.” Perdomo is one of the most passive players in all of baseball. Our database goes back to 2002, and since then, Perdomo’s 39.2% swing rate ranks 48th out of the 1,129 batters with at least 1,000 plate appearances. That puts him in the fifth percentile. Over the past three seasons, it’s the sixth-lowest mark in the game. Perdomo is the exact kind of player whom Robert Orr’s SEAGER metric was built to expose. In 2024, SEAGER had him in the 77th percentile in terms of selectivity, but it put him in the second percentile in terms of taking hittable pitches. In other words, Perdomo’s unwillingness to swing at strikes is way more extreme than his ability to lay off balls.

Keep in mind that SEAGER was meant to assess a player’s ability to do damage, and, well, that’s just not Perdomo’s game. He runs some of the lowest contact quality numbers in baseball. However, he makes tons of contact. Not only that, but over the past two seasons, he’s run a foul rate of nearly 43%, one of the higher marks in the game. It’s nearly impossible to get him to swing and miss, even when he swings and doesn’t put the ball in play. So even though pitchers attack the zone like crazy, he runs excellent walk and strikeout rates. If I’m making it sound like every single part of Perdomo’s game is at one extreme or another, well, yeah, that’s pretty much how it is. His Baseball Savant sliders are either bright red or bright blue. He’s all patience, no power. He’s the rare player who runs an incredible squared-up rate but an unimpressive line drive rate. Because Perdomo puts tons of balls in play, he’ll always have the chance at posting a great BABIP and putting up a three- or four-win season, but unless he decides to try attacking the ball, there’s not much ceiling here.

I am so, so curious to see what it would look like if Perdomo were to start attacking the ball. He’s still young, and I really do think it’s possible that he has the capacity to be more than an average hitter. I’m sure the Diamondbacks remember clearly how well it worked out when he was pulling everything in sight at the beginning of the 2023 season, and maybe they’ll try to help him become that player again. Still, I don’t think we should expect that going forward. I think the Diamondbacks are paying for floor rather than ceiling. However he gets there, if Perdomo keeps performing like a two-win player, the contract will work out well for both sides. If he can remain a solid defender and a league-average bat, he’s a really useful player, even if he pushes Lawlar to third base. In the meantime, we all get to enjoy watching Perdomo live at the extremes in order to perform right at the mean.

This is my first We Tried Tracker update since December, and I have missed you. I have missed who we were in that simpler, infinitely less cruel time of, you know, two months ago. A lot has happened on the We Tried front, far too much to cover in one article, but with Alex Bregman and Nick Pivetta coming off the board this week, all but one of the first 45 entries on our Top 50 Free Agents list have been signed. (No. 33 Andrew Heaney is the exception.) It’s time to reflect on the state of effort in major league front offices. First, I need to beg for your help once again. I have missed some We Trieds. I’m sure of it. If you see any out there in the wild, or if you notice any omissions in the tracker, please let me know on Bluesky or email me at WeTriedTracker@gmail.com, a real email address that I really check. (I even check the spam folder, which today contains an email from the daughter of the late Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi. She needs a trusted investment manager/partner for her $27.5 million fortune. I’m about to be so rich, you guys.)

From the very beginning of this exercise, the Red Sox have paced the league. As of Thursday, I have them credited with 12 different We Trieds in nine different categories. That’s nearly 18% of all We Trieds! No other team has notched more than six. The Red Sox are fully lapping the field. And until Wednesday evening, what did they have to show for all that effort? A trade for Garrett Crochet and a couple of one-year deals for pitchers in various states of recovery from Tommy John surgery. Well, all that has changed. Apparently, practice really does makes perfect, because the Red Sox have landed Bregman, our third-ranked free agent, on a three-year, $120-million deal with two opt-outs (and enough deferred money to lower the total present value to $90 million). Amazingly, Bregman is the first position player Craig Breslow has signed to a major league deal since the Red Sox hired him in October 2023. That’s why we keep trying. You never know when lucky number 13 is going to pay off. If you just stick to your guns, keep lowballing free agent after free agent, one of them will eventually be so beaten down by the process that he will accept your terms. It’s truly an uplifting tale of hope in these bleak times.

The moment Bregman signed, we got two very detailed We Trieds. Evan Petzold of the Detroit Free Press reported that the Tigers had offered six years and $171.5 million, including some deferred money, while USA Today’s Bob Nightengale reported that the Cubs offered four years and $120 million. MLB.com’s Jordan Bastian clarified Chicago actually offered $115, with opt-outs after the 2026 and 2027 seasons. Regardless of which Cubs offer is more accurate, Detroit’s and Chicago’s offers involve a lower AAV than what Bregman got from Boston, but more money and more years. The Red Sox offered something those two teams didn’t: the ability to leave immediately. If Bregman has himself a big 2025 in Boston, he can try again next offseason. If he doesn’t, he’ll have 120 million reasons not to feel too bad about how things turned out. Sometimes trying the hardest to sign a player means being the most willing to let him leave.

With nearly every notable free agent spoken for, I should probably reflect on what I learned during this exercise. I’ve never paid attention to the hot stove season this intently, and certainly not with this kind of odd, specific focus. I guess the biggest lesson is what a We Tried can tell you about how a team wants to be perceived. Unless I missed something, nine teams haven’t notched a single We Tried: the Astros, Brewers, Cardinals, Dodgers, Marlins, Pirates, Rockies, Twins, and White Sox. That’s a very eclectic group. The Dodgers haven’t felt the need to leak it to a reporter when they failed to land a player, because why would they? They’re actually improving their team, so they don’t need to keep up appearances. The White Sox, Marlins, Pirates, and Rockies are barely playing the same sport. They’re not competing for impact free agents and would never want their fans to get that impression, lest it raise expectations above their current level of negative infinity. The Twins and Brewers have spent the offseason trying to pull off a balancing act: trying to remain competitive without raising payroll. Unfortunately, they came into the offseason with a solid team and real expectations, and the silence has been deafening.

As for the Cardinals, I don’t really know where to begin. They are, in theory, starting a rebuild, but if there’s been any progress on that front, they’ve done a great job at concealing it. They haven’t signed a major league free agent. They haven’t even hinted that they’ve spent a moment considering the possibility of signing a major league free agent. Instead, they have tried so, so hard and so, so publicly… to get a little bit worse. The Cardinals have spent the entire offseason absorbed in an ill-fated attempt to trade Nolan Arenado, despite the fact that doing so wouldn’t make the team better in the short run (because Arenado is still a solid player) or in the long run (because his contract is so underwater that it’s not worth real prospect capital). The Cardinals were engaged in the noblest attempt of all: saving a few million dollars for the purpose of saving a few million dollars. On Thursday, lame duck president of baseball operations John Mozeliak essentially admitted that this lofty dream was dead. The Cardinals will spend the 2025 season furious that Arenado is still — if the projections are right — their second-best player, rather than what he could have become: a medium-sized pile of money.

Then there are the teams that have been out there trying like crazy. The top four teams are all in the AL East: the Red Sox with 12, the Orioles with seven, the Blue Jays with six, and the Yankees with five. The Cubs and Padres each have four. To some extent, this is just a reflection of reality. The AL East is a monster division where winning is expected. The Yankees play in the biggest media market in the country. They have the loudest fans in the country, and those fans expect them to sign everyone. Silence probably isn’t an option. The Red Sox have similarly demanding fans, and their front office has been publicly promising to break the bank for two straight offseasons now. They didn’t deliver at all during the 2023-2024 offseason, and until the Bregman signing, the only multi-year deal they’d handed out this offseason was still, in a sense, a one-year deal, as it went to Patrick Sandoval, who will be recovering from internal brace surgery for most of the 2025 season. In retrospect, it’s easy to see their We Trieds as assurances that they were acting in good faith.

The Orioles and Blue Jays are in a similar position: They want it to be known that they’re out there attempting to improve their teams. If they’re not trying as hard as fans might like, at least they’re trying loudly. However, there’s an insidious undertone, as all this trying comes while owners are publicly softening up the ground for a death march toward a salary cap. They’re getting ready to lock out the players, and toward that end, they’re getting an early start on painting the players as greedy millionaires. Through that lens, it’s easy to see each We Tried as an attempt to portray the billionaire ownership class as generous and benevolent, willing to go out and sign all those players you want them to, if only those players weren’t quite so expensive.

Rather than end on such a cynical note, let me tell you about my favorite We Tried. It came from Anne Rogers, the Royals beat writer for MLB.com. On February 4, Rogers reposted an MLB Trade Rumors article about Randal Grichuk’s signing with the Diamondbacks. “Royals tried to get Grichuck (sic) but he returns to Arizona,” she wrote. I clicked on the link to the article to find the part about the Royals trying. But when I read the article, I saw that the part about the Royals trying was just a link to that same post from Rogers. You can just keep clicking back and forth between the two links forever. It’s a We Tried ouroboros, and crucially, of the 69 We Trieds I’ve recorded so far, it’s the only one that uses that exact terminology. There’s no “We were in on,” or “We were in the mix,” or “We made a competitive offer.” It’s pure and simple: “Royals tried,” with absolutely zero further information.

This is also the funniest We Tried of the offseason simply because of the terms. Grichuk signed for one year and $5 million (technically it’s $2 million, with a $3 million buyout on a mutual 2026 option). Every other player who was the subject of a We Tried signed a contract that was at least twice as big as Grichuk’s. At least one player I can think of signed a contract that is 153 times bigger than Grichuk’s. There is no such thing as a major league team that can’t afford a one-year, $5 million contract. Hell, several little league teams could probably swing that deal if the right 12-year-old should come along. The Royals truly lowered the bar here. This is what minimum effort looks like.

Hello, and welcome to another installment of Transaction Analysis: Reliever Roundup Edition. Would you like to start with a joke? What’s that? You’re foaming at the mouth because the thought of starting with a joke is so exciting that you’ve lost all control of your bodily functions? I’m so glad we’re on the same page. Here we go:

Knock, knock.

Ok, now this is where you say: Who’s there? Great job.

The left-handed middle reliever with a fastball that averages just under 91 mph, who put up 0.5 WAR last season and on Tuesday signed a one-year, $3 million deal to return to his old team in his age-35 season.

Alright, now say it with me: Which one?

Thank you for your help. I think we nailed it. On Tuesday, Jon Heyman of the New York Post reported that Danny Coulombe, who spent the 2020-2022 seasons with the Twins, had agreed to return to Minnesota. Bobby Nightengale of the Minnesota Star-Tribune reported that the deal is for one year and a $3 million. Shortly thereafter, ESPN’s Jeff Passan announced that Tim Hill, who joined the Yankees in June 2024, would be returning to the Bronx on a $2.5 million deal, plus a $3 million club option for 2026 with a $350,000 buyout clause. Wait, I probably shouldn’t have explained the joke.

Tim Hill

Starting with New York, the Yankees really needed Hill back. He’s the only left-handed pitcher in their bullpen. During the team’s 2024 World Series run, he ran a 1.08 ERA over 10 appearances and 8 1/3 innings. The team’s only other left-handed relievers were Tim Mayza, who threw 2 1/3 innings and is now a Pirate, and Nestor Cortes, who is famously a starter, certainly didn’t look comfortable in his two postseason relief appearances, and is now a Brewer.

Hill is also coming off the best stretch of his career. He started the 2024 season with the White Sox, running a 5.87 ERA over 27 appearances before being released in June. The Yankees signed him two days later, and he finished the season with a 2.05 ERA over 44 innings and 34 appearances. What was different in New York? For starters, a decent bit of luck. Hill allowed a .436 BABIP in Chicago and a .238 BABIP in New York. However, the Yankees also made some drastic changes to Hill’s pitch mix. After arriving in New York, he drastically reduced his four-seamer usage and ditched his slider almost entirely.

Hill doesn’t miss bats and he doesn’t miss the plate, which means tons of balls in play. He’s a true side-armer with an arm angle of -20 degrees, and in September and October, he leaned (even further) into that identity, throwing his sinker 80% of the time, his four-seamer 18% of the time, and his slider just 2% of the time. Although batters made louder contact than they had during his time in Chicago, Hill’s already huge groundball rate rose to 70% with the Yankees. He allowed 117 groundballs and just 18 fly balls; in seven of his 35 regular season appearances, every single ball in play that he surrendered was a grounder. You have to imagine the Yankees are hoping to run that strategy right back, encouraging Hill to lean on the sinker and let opponents beat the ball into the ground for as long as it works.

Danny Coulombe

Coulombe returns to the Twins after two seasons with the Orioles, and the need he fills is every bit as dire. The only other lefties the Twins have are Brent Headrick, who has three big league innings to his name, and Kody Funderburk, who ran a 6.49 ERA in 2024. RosterResource doesn’t have Headrick or Funderburk in their projected bullpen. As you might recall, the Minnesota bullpen’s 4.89 ERA in the second half was the third worst in baseball and a major reason that the team crashed out of playoff contention (though it’s worth noting that the bullpen’s 3.72 xFIP was actually seventh best). The need is more general, however, as Coulombe is the only player the Twins have signed to a major league deal this offseason. If that sounds somewhat familiar, you could be thinking of the trade deadline, during which time Minnesota was battling for its life and made just one move, trading for reliever Trevor Richards. To put it bluntly, this is an infuriating time to be a Twins fan.

It’s hard to know exactly what to expect from Coulombe. He has a long track record of excellence, with a 2.69 ERA over the last five seasons, 2.92 during his three seasons in Minnesota and 2.56 during his two in Baltimore. However, he’s only thrown 130 1/3 major league innings over that period, an average of just 26 per season. In 2024, Coulombe was running a 2.42 ERA and 2.86 FIP when his season was stopped in its tracks in June for surgery to remove bone chips from his elbow. He returned to make four scoreless appearances in September, but his fastball velocity dropped to just below 89 mph. The Orioles let him walk rather than pick up a $4 million option. It’s hard to imagine the Twins signing him without feeling secure in the knowledge that his velocity would bounce back up to the 91-92 range, but it’s certainly something to watch for as the season starts. Coloumbe also spent most of the 2022 season on the injured list due to a hip impingement and missed time with biceps tendonitis in 2023. Health will be a major factor in determining whether the one major league signing the Twins have made this offseason actually has an impact.

There’s also some question about just what kind of pitcher Coulombe will be with the Twins. Upon joining the Orioles in 2023, Coulombe traded his slider for a sweeper with an extra eight inches of horizontal break, ditched his changeup entirely, and introduced a cutter that replaced his four-seamer as his most-used pitch. In 2024, Coulombe threw either the cutter or the sweeper nearly 60% of the time. If there’s one thing the Twins love, it’s a four-seamer – they’ve finished in the top four in four-seamer percentage in each of the last three seasons – so it will be interesting to see whether they encourage Coulombe to stick with what worked for him in Baltimore, or get him to return to what, you know, worked for him in Minnesota.

That’s the tricky thing about Coulombe; his performance has been consistent while his availability has been anything but. Every pitcher presents some level of injury risk, and Coulombe’s stuff and profile make him not just a great fit for Minnesota, but a desperately needed addition. All the same, if the team is really only going to make one addition, might it have been wiser to choose a safer option?

Well, I did not see that one coming. After four years with the Padres, shortstop Ha-Seong Kim is headed to the Rays.

On Wednesday afternoon, ESPN’s Jeff Passan reported that Kim and Tampa Bay have agreed to a two-year, $29 million deal with an opt out after the first year (because opting out after the second year would just be silly). Marc Topkin of the Tampa Bay Times followed with more details: Kim will make $13 million in 2025 (with an additional $2 million in incentives), then $16 million in 2026 if he doesn’t opt out. And because it’s paramount that we spread the scoops around as generously as possible, The Athletic’s Ken Rosenthal quickly chimed in with his own news that Kim is expected to return in May from the shoulder injury that cut his 2024 season short. Let’s start with my own personal ignominy, and then we can dive into the details.

So last week I wrote something like 2,000 words about where Kim might end up. I didn’t even give Tampa Bay a full sentence. In one breath, in passing, I dismissed the Rays, Pirates, and White Sox as unlikely to spend that kind of money. That’s my bad, but also it begs a question. Why is Kim set to spend at least one season at exotic George Steinbrenner Field? For starters, the money isn’t quite what we expected. This is a pillow contract, and a discounted one at that. If Kim plays well, he’ll opt out again and go hunting for the dollars he deserves. If things go wrong, 2026 will be his platform year. For those twin security blankets, he accepted an average annual value that’s significantly below not just our $18.5 million crowdsourced estimate, but the $20 million that Ben Clemens predicted for him. (To be fair, Ben did nail the possibility of a two-year contract with an opt-out.) Read the rest of this entry »

If you’re a team looking for a bounce-back corner outfielder with a league-average bat, your search just got a little bit harder. On Monday, Jon Heyman reported that the Orioles had signed Dylan Carlson to a one-year, $975,000 deal, and on Tuesday, Ken Rosenthal reported that the Reds had signed former Oriole Austin Hays to his own one-year, $5 million deal. Both players were selected in the 2016 draft, both players got traded at the deadline only to be non-tendered after the season, and both players are projected to put up a wRC+ somewhere between 93 and 102 in 2025. In a reflection of the uncertainty surrounding Carlson, a $25,000 incentive will raise his salary to a cool million if he reaches 200 plate appearances in Baltimore. Hays’ deal has its own $1 million in incentives, but the terms have not yet been reported. These are two small-risk, small-reward moves, but context is key. The way we look at them depends a whole lot on the needs of the respective teams. Hays has more upside, but he’s joining a Cincinnati team that needs way more than a small reward in order to be a contender. Carlson has a much trickier path to playing time, but he makes sense as a depth piece in Baltimore.

Let’s start with Hays, who has a history of big league success under his belt and a much bigger role to play in 2025. Despite a strained calf, he managed to put up a 104 wRC+ with the Orioles in 2024. After a deadline trade to the Phillies, however, a hamstring strain and a debilitating kidney infection that went undiagnosed for weeks kept him to 85 wRC+ down the stretch, with zero walks in 80 plate appearances. Rather than keep Hays for an estimated $6.4 million in his last year of arbitration, the Phillies non-tendered him. Until the infection, Hays had been very consistent (and consistently average).

From 2021-23, Hays played at least 131 games each year while posting a wRC+ between 106 and 112. A hot start to the 2023 season even earned him his first All-Star nod. Going forward, however, his defensive limitations are going to keep him in left field and, in all likelihood, just below the 2.0-WAR mark, even if his bat bounces all the way back. There’s no doubt that his pull-side power and lack of range make him better suited for Cincinnati’s form-fitting left field than the blousy Baltimore outfield he’s used to. Still, Hays is entering his age-29 season, and while he could easily explode for 30 home runs in his cozy new environs, it’s hard to imagine him surpassing his career-high 2.5 WAR from 2023.

What does Hays do for Cincinnati’s depth chart? Assuming he gets plugged in as the left fielder, he moves Spencer Steer back to the infield. With Jonathan India in Kanas City, the Reds were in serious danger of merely having too many infielders rather than their usual way, way too many. However, now that Steer can rejoin Elly De La Cruz, Matt McLain, Jeimer Candelario, Christian Encarnacion-Strand, and newcomer Gavin Lux on the dirt, this infield is even more crowded than it was before the India trade. If Hays goes back to hitting like he’s capable of hitting, he could represent an upgrade in left field — not nearly enough to make the Reds look like more than a .500 ball club, but still an upgrade. If he does anything less, he will blend right into the bottom half of a Reds lineup that Dan Szymborski recently christened, “a giant bucket of ‘meh.’”

Turning our attention to Baltimore, it’s probably too late to keep dreaming on Dylan Carlson. Nonetheless, this move makes a lot of sense both for him and the Orioles. Carlson was a first-round draft pick by the Cardinals in 2016, and he eventually rose to 16th on our top 100 prospects list. He struggled in his 2020 debut — though he got hot enough down the stretch that the Cardinals batted him cleanup in their three-game Wild Card Series loss to the Padres — but put up a promising full-season campaign in 2021. That season, he batted .266/.343/.437 with 18 home runs and a 111 wRC+ across 149 games, good for 2.4 WAR and a third-place finish in the Rookie of the Year voting. And then he plunged into a spiral of injury and underperformance. He made two trips to the injured list in both 2022 and 2023 for four separate injuries; he missed a combined 29 days in 2022 with a hamstring strain and a thumb strain, and then in 2023, an ankle sprain and an oblique strain cost him a total of 76 days. While he was out with the oblique strain, he underwent season-ending arthroscopic surgery on the same ankle he’d sprained earlier that year. During spring training in 2024, he sprained the AC joint in his left shoulder in an outfield collision with human mountain Jordan Walker. That injury kept him out for the first 38 days of the season.

Carlson put up an xwOBA between .301 and .322 in every season between 2020 and 2023, and a DRC+ between 97 and 104 in every season between 2021 and 2023. When he returned from that shoulder injury, he wasn’t himself. If you don’t count his 35-game rookie season in 2020, Carlson’s 2024 season featured career worsts in walk rate, strikeout rate, contact rate, all three slash line stats, all the wOBAs, hard-hit rate, and, just for good measure, all the advanced defensive stats. He ended the season with a 67 wRC+, .209 batting average, -7 fielding runs, and -1.0 WAR. The Cardinals traded him to the Rays at the deadline, and the Rays non-tendered him after the season rather than pay him a couple million dollars in arbitration. Now, the Orioles have decided that they like him better than the $975,000 they used to have.

The projections see Carlson bouncing back to the league-average bat he was over the first four years of his career, and that’s presumably what the Orioles are expecting. However, let’s take just a moment to dream. We don’t know how much speed and power Carlson would have if he were to finally have the chance at a full, healthy season. His zone swing rate and contact rate plummeted in 2024, and you have to imagine that had something to do with his physical limitations at the plate. Over the course of his career, he’s got a solid .330 wOBA against fastballs, but Statcast puts his run value against them at -17, which speaks to an approach issue. He takes too many fastballs and whiffs at way too many fastballs, but when he hits them, he has a great deal of success. So why isn’t he looking for them more often?

Between Cedric Mullins, Tyler O’Neill, and Colton Cowser, the Orioles have a starting outfield. Between Heston Kjerstad, Daz Cameron, Jorge Mateo, and now Carlson, they have plenty of backups too, and because they’re loaded with infielders, they probably don’t have enough roster spots to keep all of them in Baltimore. The switch-hitting Carlson still has three options left, and it would make plenty of sense to see how he looks during spring training, keep him far away from any particularly mountainous teammates, and let him try to figure things out in Norfolk to start the season.

Carlson is now far removed from his days as a top prospect, but he’s still only 26 and has only once reached 500 plate appearances in a season. He’s always run solid chase and walk rates, and he showed a renewed ability to pull the ball in the air last season. The Orioles are on a pretty great run when it comes to developing young hitters. This seems like a low-risk move for them and a good landing spot for Carlson. Even if all he does is bounce back to being a league-average hitter and an average left fielder, that’s makes him a useful depth piece for a contending team.

On August 18 in Colorado, Ha-Seong Kim led off first base, then dived back to beat a pickoff attempt. He tore the labrum in his right shoulder, and that was the last time we saw him play in 2024. After a failed rehab attempt, Kim underwent surgery in October, and he won’t be ready to play again until sometime between April and June. Just as uncertain: Where exactly Kim will be suiting up when he returns. There’s no doubt about his skill. Over the past four years, Kim has spent time at second, short, and third, and neither DRS nor FRV has ever rated him as below average at any of those spots. He needed a year to adjust on offense after arriving from the KBO in 2021, but over the past three seasons, he’s run a 106 wRC+. That ranks 13th among shortstops, and over the same period, his 10.5 WAR ranks 11th.

Kim entered free agency after both he and the Padres declined their ends of a mutual option, and he came in at ninth on our Top 50 Free Agents. According to the projections, he’ll command a four- or five-year deal with an AAV in the neighborhood of $19 million. However, the shoulder injury could cost him as much as half of the 2025 season, and it makes for a tough needle to thread. He’s got to sign with a team that needs a solid infielder, but not badly enough to need one right away. Moreover, a shoulder injury is especially scary for Kim, whose arm strength is an important part of his overall value and who already possesses below-average power at the plate. For that reason, it wouldn’t be surprising to see Kim get a pillow contract: Ben Clemens proposed two years with an opt-out. Back in November, Mark Feinsand reported that Kim had generated “lots of interest,” and wrote about the possibility that he’d be among the first free agents off the board. However, it’s now late January, and if you cruise through our Depth Charts, you’ll notice that there just don’t seem to be many good landing spots for Kim. Let us begin our litanies. Read the rest of this entry »

As soon as we get on the phone, Susan D’Andelet tells me that she was at Camden Yards for Jackson Holliday’s first career home run, a monster grand slam that landed out on Eutaw Street a few days earlier. “I went for work, actually,” she clarifies. “We took some of our clients.” It’s August, and as the Orioles challenge the Yankees for the best record in the American League, all of Maryland is buzzing with excitement. “Oh yeah,” she says. “I know they’re calling up another guy from, what is it, Double-A or whatever?” She lets out a big laugh. “You would think I would know more.”

Sports have surrounded D’Andelet (pronounced dee-ON-duh-LAY) her whole life. When her son was a child, he played alongside Bobby Boyd, a speedy outfielder who batted .331 at West Virginia University and spent four years in the Astros system. Boyd is now a CPA, D’Andelet tells me. Her husband is a sports fanatic who often coached their son’s teams. After they met, the couple discovered that their fathers had played together on the same football team, the Langdon Lions.

“I’m a sixth-generation native Washingtonian,” she says. “My dad grew up in D.C. and played all sorts of sports.” She remembers being dragged to Senators games and watching him play softball well into his 30s, before giving it up in favor of golf and fishing. His most enduring contribution to sports was an idea: He was William H. Williams, inventor of the cleat cleaner.

I wrote about the cleat cleaner last year, looking up the patent history to identify Williams as its inventor. A few months after my piece was published, D’Andelet was at a dinner party. “This baseball game happened to be on,” she recalls, “and I said to my friend, who I’ve known since high school, ‘Do you see that mat on the back of the pitcher’s mound?’ And I told her, ‘My dad invented that.’” The revelation earned her a skeptical look.

D’Andelet continues, “We’ve known each other probably 50 years. She said, ‘You’ve never told me that before.’ And I said, ‘Well, I didn’t think it was important.’ You know what I mean? It’s just not something that would necessarily come up. So anyway, I said, ‘Yeah, my dad invented that.’ She kind of looked at me – which people do – like, ‘Yeah… I don’t know about that.’” D’Andelet Googled it to prove her point, and happened upon my article, replete with images from her father’s patent request. She still has the originals.

The cleat cleaner is easy to overlook. Our attention is naturally drawn to incongruity, whereas the cleat cleaner is exquisitely logical and its presence on the back of the mound makes so much sense that you take it for granted. You can stare at it night after night without ever really seeing it. It might never come up in conversation, even if you spent your childhood helping your parents build a business around it. “Everybody knows it’s there, but they don’t think much about it,” D’Andelet says. “So I just thought it was interesting that you were interested.” She reached out a few days later, and when I asked whether she’d be interested in sharing her memories, she was enthusiastic about telling her father’s story.

Williams, known since childhood as Bunky, died from COVID pneumonia in February 2022, just shy of his 95th birthday. He came up with the idea for the cleat cleaner when D’Andelet and her two brothers were small children. “We lived in an apartment in D.C. when my parents had us,” D’Andelet says. “So my mother had three children under three years old. And we were in a one-bedroom apartment in Washington D.C., right off New Hampshire Avenue. I remember that. And then we moved out to the house where it was invented, in Silver Spring, Maryland, 701 Hobbs Drive.”

Williams was a vice president at American President Lines, an international shipping company. “He worked for them his whole business career, 30-some years, and the cleat cleaner was something that he did in the basement,” D’Andelet says. He lobbied on behalf of the company, often on Capitol Hill, though D’Andelet is quick to point out that he wasn’t registered as a lobbyist and never would have assented to being called one. And despite his invention, Williams wasn’t trained in engineering. “No, not at all, but he was very capable of doing a lot of things,” she says. “He was clever, and he was a smart man.” The house on Hobbs Drive had an unfinished basement, so Williams finished it himself, eventually creating a workroom with “a big old wooden workbench.” Aptly, his middle name was Handy.

Williams toiled in the workroom during the evenings, but the cleat cleaner was a family endeavor from the very beginning. “We had a little cottage industry in our home before it was fashionable,” D’Andelet says. Williams made the first prototype out of toys and a spare plank of wood. She remembers being a child and seeing him “drilling out the holes in that piece of wood, and taking my brothers’ plastic toy rockets and cutting them off and putting them in the holes.” The rockets came from sets of those little green army men that many of us had as children. “That’s what he got his patent on,” she says. Did her brothers protest about sacrificing their rockets to the cause? “No, I don’t think so. He might have even broken down and bought extras,” she says with a laugh. “We didn’t have a whole lot at that stage in our lives. He was probably in his 30s and we were all little kids.

Williams tested his prototype the same way anyone would. “I can remember him getting the dirt muddy, squirting it down with the hose in the backyard, getting a big patch of mud,” D’Andelet recalls. “He would have the baseball cleats on himself, and he would get a big old wad of mud on the cleats and then use the cleat cleaner. And so I imagine that he went through a number of these to get it right.” Once he’d perfected the design, Williams applied for and received a patent in 1963. “He found a place in Baltimore that would manufacture them,” she says. “He had a mold created, and had the company in Baltimore make these products. I remember my mother would load us all into the car and drive us to Baltimore, and we’d load them all in the trunk. What I remember in particular was that the rubber that they were made out of stunk. And the whole basement stunk.”

D’Andelet’s mother, Nettie Williams, now lives with her in Delaware. “She’s a delightful person, always was and still is. Very much a team player.” As the business got going, D’Andelet says, “my mother was really the one who was running it. She was a stay-at-home mom and she had the three of us. And when he started with this, she was right there at his side doing whatever needed to be done.” They initially marketed the cleat cleaner as a football product, sending mailers to NFL teams. “She did all the banking and bookkeeping, and the invoices would come in and she’d fill the orders.” Nettie made regular visits to the bank in Montgomery Country, often being served by the same young teller. “He was trying to figure out at the time why she had all these checks with the logos of the professional football teams on them,” D’Andelet says. One day, the bewildered teller finally asked whether Nettie was a cheerleader. “I guess that was the only thing he could come up with.”

Nettie went to secretarial school, so she was Bunky’s at-home secretary. D’Andelet remembers how he would return home after work, walk through the door, and say, “Nettie, take a letter!” Thinking about the scene now, D’Andelet laughs. “So she’d get her stenographer’s pad out and do shorthand, and be in there typing up letters to all the professional teams — the professional football teams and then eventually the baseball teams. And so she was the jack-of-all-trades. So whatever needed to be done, it was her and us. We were the cheap labor… Whether it was stuffing envelopes with flyers, or putting stamps on the envelopes. We would package up the cleat cleaners, initially it was in boxes, and we would address them and tape them up and take them to the post office. Everything that was done, we did.”

Although they started with football, cleat cleaners became more associated with baseball because they sat on the back of the mound, in clear view of millions of home viewers. Yet, despite the product’s popularity, Williams “didn’t make a killing from selling the cleat cleaner,” D’Andelet says, “It wasn’t what we lived off of. It was just a little aside for him. He saw that there was a need for this.”

It remained a cottage industry. When she was in her early 20s, D’Andelet’s friend, Chris Williams (no relation), posed for flyers. “He was the shoe model – or the foot model, or whatever you want to call it,” she says. “He played baseball a lot. He was very active. And my dad would have him put the cleats on and get them all muddied up, and try to get the mud out with the cleat cleaner and take pictures.”

Williams also invented a kicking tee. “That never really took off,” D’Andelet says, “and I don’t know why. It was called the Sky Tee and it sat on his rolltop desk.” At some point, the manufacturer in Baltimore was bought by another company. The new owner mistakenly believed that they also owned the mold, and Williams needed a lawyer to help him get it back. He kept the business going into his mid-80s, and you can still find the original cleatcleaner.com website, from 2001, on the Wayback Machine.

After making cleat cleaners for 50 years, Williams sold the business, along with the original mold, about 10 years ago. Before he did so, he asked whether anyone in the family wanted to take over. D’Andelet has spent her entire career in the mortgage, title, and real estate industry, and she just couldn’t see herself continuing the business. “It would have been nice,” she says. “It was kind of hard to say no.” She still has some cleat cleaners, but they’ve been in storage since a move a few years back.

D’Andelet still sees reminders of her father. On the highway, she sometimes finds herself alongside 18-wheelers hauling American President Lines shipping containers. “And you’ll see the ships. I see them sometimes when I’m going over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. I’ll see the ships going along with the APL.”

The cleat cleaner is more widespread than ever. The patent expired back in 1980, and these days, there’s no shortage of companies manufacturing them. They come in an ever-expanding variety of styles, shapes, and colors, but Williams’ original design, the one that started as a plank of wood and sawed-off toy rockets, is still in production. And despite her best efforts, D’Andelet isn’t going to escape sports anytime soon. “I ended up marrying a man who was as interested in sports,” she says, building up to the punchline. “I said, ‘Look you can play all the sports you want to. Don’t expect me to come sit there and watch it.’”

Do me favor. Don’t imagine trading Mookie Betts. Who would do that, anyway? Instead, imagine Mookie Betts trading Mookie Betts. That is to say, imagine Mookie Betts deciding to trade the current version of himself for a younger version of himself. Most of us would make that trade in a second – my younger self had so much hair and was already reading at a fifth-grade level! – but why would Mookie Betts make that trade? Coming into 2024, he had just put up a seven-win season while running a 166 wRC+, the second-best batting line of what should end up as a Hall of Fame career. That’s the ideal self, right there. No trades necessary.

From afar, Betts’s 2024 season was of a piece with the ones that preceded it. He put up his eighth-career 4-WAR season and ran a 141 wRC+, almost exactly in line with his career mark. But look at this:

Go ahead and ignore the short 2020 season, when Betts posted a low pull rate. All the numbers go up toward the second half of the graph before dipping back down in 2024. In a couple of major ways, Betts looked a lot less like what we’ve seen in this decade, and a lot more like what we saw back in the first few seasons of his career. He went back to striking out less, pulling the ball less, and hitting the ball significantly softer. In case that graph isn’t clear to you, let me show you the same numbers, this time split up into three chunks: 2014 through 2017, 2018 through 2023, and then just the 2024 season.

See the chunks? If those three metrics — Betts’ strikeout rate, hard-hit rate, and pull rate — are ringing some bells, it’s probably because I wrote about them back in May. At the time, I noticed that pitchers were doing their absolute best to pitch Betts away, away, away. Well, that trend continued throughout the season, and it certainly seems possible that it explains a lot of these numbers. Continuing with our theme, let’s take this in chunks. We’ll talk about the strikeout rate first because it’s the least dramatic.

Betts has never been anything but excellent at avoiding strikeouts. However, he had an 11% strikeout rate in 2024, and even by his own ridiculous standards, that was something. It was tied for the best mark of his career, it represented a nearly 30% drop-off from his 2023 rate, and it put him in the 98th percentile of all major league hitters. The thing is, his plate discipline didn’t change all that dramatically. He saw fewer pitches in the zone, which is a good way to avoid strikeouts, but he also had one of the higher chase rates of his career. The big difference was that he swung more often on the first pitch and he recorded one of the highest contact rates of his career. That’s a little odd, because chasing more normally leads to whiffing more. However, seeing more outside pitches could lead to more contact, as the ideal contact point for an outside pitch is further behind home plate, which gives the batter more time to react. As I mentioned, all of these numbers were within Betts’ career norms, but between the aggression, especially on the first pitch, and the higher chase rate, it seems safe to say that Betts was looking to put the ball in play a bit more often.

At the same time, Betts’ contact quality took an enormous dip. His hard-hit rate fell from 48.5% in 2023 all the way to 39.5%. That still left him fairly close to the league average, but it was one of the biggest drops in baseball, and the underlying numbers are even uglier. Betts’ 90th percentile exit velocity and his best speed (which throws out the weakest 50% of batted balls and then takes the average of the remaining 50%) represented career lows. The 90th percentile mark put him in the 27th percentile. This is not the direction in which you want to be trending.

As I noted back in May, Betts adjusted to the outside pitches by setting up closer to the plate. That can make it difficult to hit the inside pitch with authority, because you have less time to turn on it, but Betts’ contact quality was down across the board. Here’s his hard-hit rate on pitches in the zone:

The inner third definitely saw the biggest drop-off, but his hard-hit rate was down on pitches out over the plate too. That brings us to our third and final chunk. Betts ran a 34.3% pull rate, the lowest of his career and at least 10 percentage points lower than his rate in each of the three previous seasons. Here are spray heat maps for 2023 and 2024. Everything’s shifting away from left field and toward right field. It’s also shifting away from deep fly balls.

Betts has never been the strongest player in the league, but he’s always hit the ball hard, and he transformed himself into one of the game’s true masters at turning on the inside pitch and ripping it down the line or over the fence. In 2024, however, he traded that super power for the ability to spray line drives to all fields. It certainly seems like this was a response to the way he was being pitched. After all, it’s pretty hard to yank a pitch on the outside corner down the left field line. And if you’re not seeing pitches that you can yank to the pull side, then it no longer makes sense to build your whole approach around that goal.

I don’t want to overreact to a single season, let alone one in which Betts produced his typical fantastic offensive numbers — especially considering that Betts missed nearly two months with a fractured hand. This is one of those times when I really wish we had bat tracking data stretching back over the last several years. Betts had an average bat speed of 69.1 mph in 2024, which put him in just the 14th percentile, and I wish there were a way to know whether that was a big drop-off from previous seasons. He turned 32 last year, and just Tuesday, Tom Tango published an aging curve that makes it look like there’s a dramatic bat speed drop-off starting at 32. If you look at Betts’ spray charts and his contact rates, you get the sense that he just reworked his approach in order to make the most of the pitches he was seeing. However, the exit velocity numbers are such an extreme departure from his previous seasons. To some degree, they’re probably a symptom of that larger adjustment, but Betts’ bat may just be slower than it used to be.