MLB’s villains or its gold standard? How the Los Angeles Dodgers got here
-
Alden Gonzalez
The Los Angeles Dodgers aren’t just a baseball team these days. They are a symbol. For fans of the other 29 major league clubs, they are a source of either indignation or longing. For rival owners — and the commissioner who answers to them — they exemplify a widening payroll disparity that must be addressed. For players, and the union that represents them, they are a beacon, embodying all the traits of successful organizations: astute at player development, invested in behind-the-scenes components that make a difference and, most prominently, eager to pump their outsized revenues back into the roster.
The Dodgers employ seven players on nine-figure contracts, with five of those deals reached over the past 15 months. They also have the strongest farm system in the sport, according to ESPN’s Kiley McDaniel. Their lineup is loaded and their rotation is decorated, but also their future looks bright and their resources seem limitless. And yet their chief architect, Andrew Friedman, isn’t ready for a victory lap.
“It just doesn’t really land with me in that way,” Friedman, entering his 11th year as the Dodgers’ president of baseball operations, said in a recent phone conversation. “I think once I get fired, once there’s like real distance between being mired in the day-to-day and when I’m not, I will be able to look back at those things. But for us right now, it all feels very precarious.
“We’ve seen a lot of really successful organizations that fall off a cliff and take a while to build back. We don’t take any of it for granted.”
Nothing lasts forever. Every empire has fallen, every dynasty has faded. But what the Dodgers have built feels uniquely sustainable. A glaring reminder came last month, when Major League Baseball’s commissioner, Rob Manfred, was asked whether outrage over the Dodgers’ spending reminded him of how fans felt about the star-laden New York Yankees teams of the early 2000s, commonly referred to as “The Evil Empire.”
The current Dodgers, Manfred said, “are probably more profitable on a percentage basis than the old Yankees were, meaning it could be more sustainable, so it is more of a problem.”
The word “problem” depends on one’s perspective. Dodgers fans certainly wouldn’t describe it as such. As the team prepares to begin its season on Tuesday against the Chicago Cubs in Japan — a country in which they are revered, in a series sponsored by their ownership group — it’s worth understanding how the Dodgers got here.
It was the result of their process, but it also required several monumental steps over the past dozen years.
Below is a look at their biggest leaps.
Jan. 28, 2013: They signed a media megadeal
At the start of 2013, the Dodgers, less than a year into Guggenheim’s ownership, landed a massive local-media deal spanning 25 years and valued at $8.35 billion, or $334 million annually on average. But for the rest of that decade, it qualified as a massive headache. A stalemate between AT&T and Charter Communications meant more than half the Southern California market was unable to access the team’s channel, SportsNet LA, from 2014 to 2020.
As the impasse continued and tensions escalated, the Dodgers’ media deal came to symbolize a growing clash between sports channels that demand higher fees and content distributors wary of making customers pay for content they do not consume. Now — five years after the two sides finally struck a deal, airing Dodgers games on AT&T video platforms and nearly doubling the number of households to more than 3 million — it exemplifies a growing disparity that is rattling the industry.
The Dodgers’ local-media deal runs longer than most and is more expensive than any other, but here’s the kicker, according to a source familiar with the deal: While most regional sports networks are set up as subsidiaries underneath a corporate entity, leaving them in the lurch when they fall into hard times — like Diamond Sports Group, a former Sinclair subsidiary that was forced into bankruptcy when debt mounted and subscribers fell off — the Dodgers have complete corporate backing from Charter, a massive media conglomerate.
So not only do the Dodgers generate far more in local media than any of their competitors, but at a time when the linear-cable model is drying up and teams face increasing uncertainty with RSN contracts that represent about 20% of revenues, their deal is relatively iron-clad. That is especially valuable considering they’re in a division where three teams — the San Diego Padres, Arizona Diamondbacks and Colorado Rockies — have lost their local media deals.
Dec. 21, 2018: They swung a trade that streamlined their payroll
Four days before Christmas in 2018, the Dodgers executed a rare salary dump. Matt Kemp, Yasiel Puig, Alex Wood, Kyle Farmer and cash were sent to the Cincinnati Reds for Homer Bailey, who was promptly released, and two young players who would later help trigger blockbuster acquisitions, Jeter Downs and Josiah Gray. The prospect component was secondary; the real benefit was the money saved, which gave the Dodgers additional wiggle room under the luxury-tax threshold and helped them remain debt-service compliant the following year.
In a bigger sense, it was the culmination of a multi-year effort by the front office to rid the Dodgers of bloated contracts and streamline a payroll that ultimately became burdened by massive deals for players like Kemp, Andre Ethier, Carl Crawford and Adrián González. The Dodgers’ luxury-tax payroll dropped by about $50 million from 2017 to 2019, by which point only two players — A.J. Pollock and Kenta Maeda — were signed beyond the next two years. In Friedman’s mind, the Dodgers were now free to be aggressive.
“For our first four to five years, it was as much about trying to be as competitive as we could be while getting our future payroll outlook in a better spot,” he said. “At the end of the 2019 season was the first time we had reached that point and were in position to be more aggressive at the top of the free-agent class.”
Gerrit Cole and Anthony Rendon headlined that offseason’s free-agent class. The Dodgers didn’t come away with either of them.
They would soon make up for it.
Feb. 10, 2020: Mookie Betts became available — and they pounced
The Dodgers engaged in initial trade conversations around Betts leading up to the trade deadline in 2019, but then the Boston Red Sox won five of seven against the Tampa Bay Rays and the New York Yankees near the end of July, and suddenly Betts was unavailable. A tone was set nonetheless.
“We knew, with him going into his last year of control, that there was a chance they would look to trade him going into that offseason,” Friedman recalled. “There was a switch in their baseball-operations department, and Chaim Bloom was hired, who I have a good relationship with. I spent a lot of time talking to him in the beginning. For him, it was about getting his feet on the ground and understanding the organizational direction of what they were doing. And it wasn’t until January where he opened the door to engage.”
Friedman, who gave Bloom his first front-office job in Tampa, ultimately landed Betts and David Price for Alex Verdugo, Downs and another position-player prospect in Connor Wong on Feb. 10, 2020. Friedman had long coveted Betts not just for his supreme talent, but for his work ethic and competitive edge and how those qualities seemed to elevate those around him. Within five months, Betts agreed to a 12-year, $365 million extension, eschewing free agency.
March 17, 2022: Freddie Freeman became a surprise free agent addition
When Freeman hit free agency after winning the 2021 World Series with the Braves, Friedman assumed he would simply return to Atlanta. So did everyone else — Freeman included. He was a homegrown star poised to someday get his number retired and have a statue outside Truist Park. But initial conversations barely progressed, and the Dodgers saw an opening.
On the afternoon of Dec. 1, moments before the sport would shut down in the midst of a bitter labor fight, Dodgers players, coaches and executives gathered for Betts’ wedding in L.A. Friedman, Dodgers manager Dave Roberts and then-third baseman Justin Turner briefly stepped away to call Freeman. They wanted to leave a lasting impression before an owner-imposed lockout would prohibit communication between teams and players. They wanted to be the last club he heard from.
The message, essentially: Don’t forget about us.
Friedman said he “got off the call feeling like it was incredibly unlikely” that the Dodgers would land Freeman. But when the lockout ended on March 10, the Braves and Freeman’s then-agent, Casey Close, still couldn’t bridge the gap, either on length or value. Four days later, the Braves traded for another star first baseman in Matt Olson, leaving Freeman stunned. Three days after that, he pivoted to the Dodgers, coming to terms on a six-year, $162 million contract.
2022-23 offseason: They sat out the shortstop market
When Corey Seager became a free agent at the end of the 2021 season, the Dodgers had a ready-made replacement in Trea Turner, who had been acquired with Max Scherzer the previous summer in a deal that sent Gray and three other minor leaguers to the Washington Nationals. But when Turner himself became a free agent a year later, the Dodgers did nothing to shore up one of the sport’s most important positions.
Turner became part of a historic class of free-agent shortstops, along with Carlos Correa, Xander Bogaerts and Dansby Swanson. The Dodgers didn’t pursue any of them, even though they didn’t have a clear replacement. The Dodgers could have avoided years of uncertainty at this position by locking in a proven star, but doing so was hardly entertained.
The reason is now obvious.
“With where we were commitment-wise,” Friedman said, “and with Shohei [Ohtani] coming up the next offseason, it was just a higher bar to clear for us to do something that would have any negative ability for us to pursue Shohei.”
Dec. 11, 2023: Ohtani chose them
By the time Ohtani became a free agent in November of 2023, the Dodgers’ roster was loaded but their payroll was manageable, with only Betts and Freeman guaranteed beyond the next two seasons. The Dodgers could boast a contending team — with two franchise pillars and a wealth of young talent — but also pitch Ohtani on the promise of adding other impact players around him, regardless of his monstrous contract. It worked.
Now, Dec. 11, 2023, stands as one of the most monumental dates in Dodgers history. Ohtani not only joined the Dodgers that day, but he agreed to defer more than 97% of his 10-year, $700 million contract. The Dodgers have become infamous for their propensity to defer money, a mechanism to provide players with a higher guarantee but, given the ability to invest deferred commitments, is mostly beneficial to the Dodgers (though perhaps not as much as one might think).
Ohtani’s deal was followed by the addition of two frontline starters — Yoshinobu Yamamoto, who landed a contract worth $325 million, and Tyler Glasnow, who was acquired via trade and subsequently signed a five-year extension worth close to $140 million. Ohtani didn’t pitch in 2024, but he put together one of the greatest offensive seasons in baseball history, starting the 50/50 club and becoming the first full-time designated hitter to win an MVP.
Just as important, from the Dodgers’ perspective: He generated massive amounts of revenue.
Ohtani had MLB’s top-selling jersey by a wide margin. With him on the roster, the Dodgers struck sponsorship agreements with 11 different Japanese companies during the 2024 season. Two Ohtani bobblehead giveaways prompted fans to line up outside Dodger Stadium up to 10 hours before the first pitch. Japanese guided tours through the ballpark — a twice-a-day, four-day-a-week addition — never relented. The gift shops frequently had lines out the door.
The Dodgers won’t disclose how much additional revenue they generated from Ohtani last year, but team president Stan Kasten has repeatedly said it blew away even their most optimistic projections.
Oct. 9, 2024: They survived Game 4 of the NLDS
It’s amazing, given the space the Dodgers currently occupy, that five months ago they carried a reputation as, well, chokers. Their championship at the end of the COVID-19-shortened 2020 season had been thoroughly dismissed for its unconventionality. More prevalent in the general public’s mind was 2019, 2021, 2022 and 2023, seasons that ended with talented teams getting eliminated early by inferior opponents.
The 2024 season was quickly headed in that direction. On Oct. 9, the Dodgers trailed a Padres club that was widely considered more well-rounded two-games-to-one in the best-of-five National League Division Series. Their depleted rotation had run out of starters. They would stage a bullpen game with their season on the line. And they would survive. The Dodgers shut out the Padres in Game 4, shut them out again in Game 5, then cruised past the New York Mets and Yankees to capture their first full-season championship since 1988.
What followed was a second straight offseason in which the Dodgers added practically every player they wanted. That included a frontline starter (Blake Snell), two corner outfielders (Teoscar Hernandez and Michael Conforto), three premium bullpen pieces (Tanner Scott, Kirby Yates and Blake Treinen), two fan favorites (Clayton Kershaw and Kiké Hernández) and one of the most alluring pitching prospects in a generation (Roki Sasaki). A key utility player (Tommy Edman) was also extended. The cost: another $466.5 million in guaranteed money, immediately after an offseason in which they guaranteed close to $1.4 billion in signings and extensions.
Roberts, fresh off a record-setting extension, has talked about how he might have been fired had he not navigated his Dodgers past the Padres last fall. Friedman acknowledged that the Dodgers probably don’t spend as much if they don’t win the World Series and generate the extra revenue that comes from it, though he called that “a lazy guess.”
Still, when asked how often he has thought about how life would be different if the Dodgers hadn’t won Game 4 of the 2024 NLDS, Friedman said: “Zero minutes.”
“We have been on the good side of those games and on the bad side of those games,” he added, “and I’ve spent zero minutes thinking about what the world would look like if the outcome had been different.”
All that matters now is a reality that exhilarates their fans and infuriates everyone else: The Dodgers look about as insurmountable as a franchise can be in this sport.
JIM ABBOTT IS sitting at his kitchen table, with his old friend Tim Mead. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, they were partners in an extraordinary exercise — and now, for the first time in decades, they are looking at a stack of letters and photographs from that period of their lives.
The letters are mostly handwritten, by children, from all over the United States and Canada, and beyond.
“Dear Mr. Abbott …”
“I have one hand too. … I don’t know any one with one hand. How do you feel about having one hand? Sometimes I feel sad and sometimes I feel okay about it. Most of the time I feel happy.”
“I am a seventh grader with a leg that is turned inwards. How do you feel about your arm? I would also like to know how you handle your problem? I would like to know, if you don’t mind, what have you been called?”
“I can’t use my right hand and most of my right side is paralyzed. … I want to become a doctor and seeing you makes me think I can be what I want to be.”
For 40 years, Mead worked in communications for the California Angels, eventually becoming vice president of media relations. His position in this department became a job like no other after the Angels drafted Abbott out of the University of Michigan in 1988.
There was a deluge of media requests. Reporters from around the world descended on Anaheim, most hoping to get one-on-one time with the young left-handed pitcher with the scorching fastball. Every Abbott start was a major event — “like the World Series,” Angels scout Bob Fontaine Jr. remembers. Abbott, with his impressive amateur résumé (he won the James E. Sullivan Award for the nation’s best amateur athlete in 1997 and an Olympic gold medal in 1988) and his boyish good looks, had star power.
That spring, he had become only the 16th player to go straight from the draft to the majors without appearing in a single minor league game. And then there was the factor that made him unique. His limb difference, although no one called it that back then. Abbott was born without a right hand, yet had developed into one of the most promising pitchers of his generation. He would go on to play in the majors for ten years, including a stint in the mid ’90s with the Yankees highlighted by a no-hitter in 1993.
Abbott, and Mead, too, knew the media would swarm. That was no surprise. There had been swarms in college, and at the Olympics, wherever and whenever Abbott pitched. Who could resist such an inspirational story? But what they hadn’t anticipated were the letters.
The steady stream of letters. Thousands of letters. So many from kids who, like Abbott, were different. Letters from their parents and grandparents. The kids hoping to connect with someone who reminded them of themselves, the first celebrity they knew of who could understand and appreciate what it was like to be them, someone who had experienced the bullying and the feelings of otherness. The parents and grandparents searching for hope and direction.
“I know you don’t consider yourself limited in what you can do … but you are still an inspiration to my wife and I as parents. Your success helps us when talking to Andy at those times when he’s a little frustrated. I’m able to point to you and assure him there’s no limit to what he can accomplish.”
In his six seasons with the Angels, Abbott was assisted by Mead in the process of organizing his responses to the letters, mailing them, and arranging face-to-face meetings with the families who had written to him. There were scores of such meetings. It was practically a full-time job for both of them.
“Thinking back on these meetings with families — and that’s the way I’d put it, it’s families, not just kids — there was every challenge imaginable,” Abbott, now 57, says. “Some accidents. Some birth defects. Some mental challenges that aren’t always visible to people when you first come across somebody. … They saw something in playing baseball with one hand that related to their own experience. I think the families coming to the ballparks were looking for hopefulness. I think they were looking for what it had been that my parents had told me, what it had been that my coaches had told me. … [With the kids] it was an interaction. It was catch. It was smiling. It was an autograph. It was a picture. With the parents, it ran deeper. With the parents, it was what had your parents said to you? What coaches made a difference? What can we expect? Most of all, I think, what can we expect?”
“It wasn’t asking for autographs,” Mead says of all those letters. “They weren’t asking for pictures. They were asking for his time. He and I had to have a conversation because this was going to be unique. You know, you could set up another player to come down and sign 15 autographs for this group or whatever. But it was people, parents, that had kids, maybe babies, just newborn babies, almost looking for an assurance that this is going to turn out all right, you know. ‘What did your parents do? How did your parents handle this?'”
One of the letters Abbott received came from an 8-year-old girl in Windsor, Ontario.
She wrote, “Dear Jim, My name is Tracey Holgate. I am age 8. I have one hand too. My grandpa gave me a picture of you today. I saw you on TV. I don’t know anyone with one hand. How do you feel about having one hand? Sometimes I feel sad and sometimes I feel okay about it. Most of the time I feel happy. I hope to see you play in Detroit and maybe meet you. Could you please send me a picture of you in uniform? Could you write back please? Here is a picture of me. Love, Tracey.”
Holgate’s letter is one of those that has remained preserved in a folder — and now Abbott is reading it again, at his kitchen table, half a lifetime after receiving it. Time has not diminished the power of the letter, and Abbott is wiping away tears.
Today, Holgate is 44 and goes by her married name, Dupuis. She is married with four children of her own. She is a teacher. When she thinks about the meaning of Jim Abbott in her life, it is about much more than the letter he wrote back to her. Or the autographed picture he sent her. It was Abbott, all those years ago, who made it possible for Tracey to dream.
“There was such a camaraderie there,” she says, “an ability to connect with somebody so far away doing something totally different than my 8-year-old self was doing, but he really allowed me to just feel that connection, to feel that I’m not alone, there’s other people that have differences and have overcome them and been successful and we all have our own crosses, we all have our own things that we’re carrying and it’s important to continue to focus on the gifts that we have, the beauty of it.
“I think sometimes differences, disabilities, all those things can be a gift in a package we would never have wanted, because they allow us to be people that have an empathetic heart, an understanding heart, and to see the pain in the people around us.”
Now, years after Abbott’s career ended, he continues to inspire.
Among those he influenced, there are professional athletes, such as Shaquem Griffin, who in 2018 became the first NFL player with one hand. Griffin, now 29, played three seasons at linebacker for the Seattle Seahawks.
Growing up in Florida, he would watch videos of Abbott pitching and fielding, over and over, on YouTube.
“The only person I really looked up to was Jim Abbott at the time,” Griffin says, “which is crazy, because I didn’t know anybody else to look up to. I didn’t know anybody else who was kind of like me. And it’s funny, because when I was really little, I used to be like, ‘Why me? Why this happen to me?’ And I used to be in my room thinking about that. And I used to think to myself, ‘I wonder if Jim Abbott had that same thought.'”
Carson Pickett was born on Sept. 15, 1993 — 11 days after Abbott’s no-hitter. Missing most of her left arm below the elbow, she became, in 2022, the first player with a limb difference to appear for the U.S. women’s national soccer team.
She, too, says that Abbott made things that others told her were impossible seem attainable.
“I knew I wanted to be a professional soccer player,” says Pickett, who is currently playing for the NWSL’s Orlando Pride. “To be able to see him compete at the highest level it gave me hope, and I think that that kind of helped me throughout my journey. … I think ‘pioneer’ would be the best word for him.”
Longtime professional MMA fighter Nick Newell is 39, old enough to have seen Abbott pitch for the Yankees. In fact, when Newell was a child he met Abbott twice, first at a fan event at the Jacob Javits Center in Manhattan and then on a game day at Yankee Stadium. Newell was one of those kids with a limb difference — like Griffin and Pickett, due to amniotic band syndrome — who idolized Abbott.
“And I didn’t really understand the gravity of what he was doing,” Newell says now, “but for me, I saw someone out there on TV that looked like I did. And I was the only other person I knew that had one hand. And I saw this guy out here playing baseball and it was good to see somebody that looked like me, and I saw him in front of the world.
“He was out there like me and he was just living his life and I think that I owe a lot of my attitude and the success that I have to Jim just going out there and being the example of, ‘Hey, you can do this. Who’s to say you can’t be a professional athlete?’ He’s out there throwing no-hitters against the best baseball players in the world. So, as I got older, ‘Why can’t I wrestle? Why can’t I fight? Why can’t I do this?’ And then it wasn’t until the internet that I heard people tell me I can’t do these things. But by then I had already been doing those things.”
Griffin.
Pickett.
Newell.
Just three of the countless kids who were inspired by Jim Abbott.
When asked if it ever felt like too much, being a role model and a hero, all the letters and face-to-face meetings, Abbott says no — but it wasn’t always easy.
“I had incredible people who helped me send the letters,” he says. “I got a lot more credit sometimes than I deserved for these interactions, to be honest with you. And that happened on every team, particularly with my friend Tim Mead. There was a nice balance to it. There really was. There was a heaviness to it. There’s no denying. There were times I didn’t want to go [to the meetings]. I didn’t want to walk out there. I didn’t want to separate from my teammates. I didn’t want to get up from the card game. I didn’t want to put my book down. I liked where I was at. I was in my environment. I was where I always wanted to be. In a big league clubhouse surrounded by big league teammates. In a big league stadium. And those reminders of being different, I slowly came to realize were never going to go away.”
But being different was the thing that made Abbott more than merely a baseball star. For many people, he has been more than a role model, more than an idol. He is the embodiment of hope and belonging.
“I think more people need to realize and understand the gift of a difference,” Dupuis says. “I think we have to just not box everybody in and allow everybody’s innate light to shine, and for whatever reasons we’ve been created to be here, [let] that light shine in a way that it touches everybody else. Because I think that’s what Jim did. He allowed his light to permeate and that light, in turn, lit all these little children’s lights all over the world, so you have this boom of brightness that’s happening and that’s uncontrollable, that’s beautiful.”
NEW YORK — Chicago Cubs center fielder Pete Crow-Armstrong is projected to receive the largest amount from this season’s $50 million pre-arbitration bonus pool based on his regular-season statistics.
Crow-Armstrong is on track to get $1,091,102, according to WAR calculations through July 8 that Major League Baseball sent to teams, players and agents in a memo Friday that was obtained by The Associated Press.
He earned $342,128 from the pool in 2024.
“I was aware of it after last year, but I have no clue of the numbers,” he said Friday. “I haven’t looked at it one time.”
Pittsburgh pitcher Paul Skenes is second at $961,256, followed by Washington outfielder James Wood ($863,835), Arizona outfielder Corbin Carroll ($798,397), Houston pitcher Hunter Brown ($786,838), Philadelphia pitcher Cristopher Sánchez ($764,854), Cincinnati shortstop Elly De La Cruz ($717,479), Boston catcher Carlos Narváez ($703,007), Red Sox outfielder Ceddanne Rafaela ($685,366) and Detroit outfielder Riley Greene ($665,470).
Crow-Armstrong, Skenes, Wood, Carroll, Brown, De La Cruz and Greene have been picked for Tuesday’s All-Star Game.
A total of 100 players will receive the payments, established as part of the 2022 collective bargaining agreement and aimed to get more money to players without sufficient service time for salary arbitration eligibility. The cutoff for 2025 was 2 years, 132 days of major league service.
Players who signed as foreign professionals are excluded.
Most young players have salaries just above this year’s major league minimum of $760,000. Crow-Armstrong has a $771,000 salary this year, Skenes $875,000, Wood $764,400 and Brown $807,400.
Carroll is in the third season of a $111 million, eight-year contract.
As part of the labor agreement, a management-union committee was established that determined the WAR formula used to allocate the bonuses after awards. (A player may receive only one award bonus per year, the highest one he is eligible for.) The agreement calls for an interim report to be distributed the week before the All-Star Game.
Distribution for awards was $9.85 million last year, down from $11.25 million in 2022 and $9.25 million in 2023.
A player earns $2.5 million for winning an MVP or Cy Young award, $1.75 million for finishing second, $1.5 million for third, $1 million for fourth or fifth or for making the All-MLB first team. A player can get $750,000 for winning Rookie of the Year, $500,000 for second or for making the All-MLB second team, $350,000 for third in the rookie race, $250,000 for fourth or $150,000 for fifth.
Kansas City shortstop Bobby Witt Jr. topped last year’s pre-arbitration bonus pool at $3,077,595, and Skenes was second at $2,152,057 despite not making his big league debut until May 11. Baltimore shortstop Gunnar Henderson was third at $2,007,178.
-
Sports3 years ago‘Storybook stuff’: Inside the night Bryce Harper sent the Phillies to the World Series
-
Sports1 year agoStory injured on diving stop, exits Red Sox game
-
Sports2 years agoGame 1 of WS least-watched in recorded history
-
Sports2 years agoMLB Rank 2023: Ranking baseball’s top 100 players
-
Sports4 years ago
Team Europe easily wins 4th straight Laver Cup
-
Sports2 years agoButton battles heat exhaustion in NASCAR debut
-
Environment2 years agoJapan and South Korea have a lot at stake in a free and open South China Sea
-
Environment2 years agoGame-changing Lectric XPedition launched as affordable electric cargo bike