Shohei Ohtani hasn’t been able to complete a full season as a two-way player at 32, and it’s likely he won’t manage it at 33 either.
That’s why the recent comments from Andrew Friedman, the Dodgers’ president of baseball operations, were concerning.
For instance, did Ohtani’s performance in the playoffs suffer due to how the Dodgers managed him earlier in the season?
“I don’t know the answer to that,” Friedman admitted.
And can Ohtani realistically juggle both roles for an entire season at his age?
Again, Friedman replied, “I don’t know the answer to that.”
If he was being coy during the Dodgers’ end-of-season press conference, that’s one thing. But if not, it could indicate some serious misunderstandings within the organization.
Before determining how aggressively they will chase Tarik Skubal or how soon they’ll overhaul their aging roster, it seems essential for the Dodgers to have a straightforward discussion with Ohtani. They need to figure out how he can return to being a two-way asset without risking another postseason where he appears barely fit to play.
But it’s hard to see how they can have this honest conversation if they won’t confront the clear issues. For instance, accommodating Ohtani’s desire to continue playing with injuries is a big reason he was in rough shape when it really counted. Also, just aiming to be both a designated hitter and a pitcher for a whole season at this point in his career seems unrealistic.
The dynamic between the Dodgers and Ohtani isn’t your standard employer-employee scenario—nor should it be. However, this past season highlighted a worrying imbalance, where Ohtani’s wishes seemed to overshadow rational thinking. Friedman’s hesitance to address Ohtani’s limitations feeds into this concern.
He mentioned that the team’s leadership would collaborate with Ohtani on a plan to enhance his chances of being healthy during the playoffs. Yet, it sounded like he was relying on Ohtani’s commitment to prioritize the team over his own well-being.
“He is awesome about saying, ‘Hey, whatever it takes to help the team win,’” Friedman said. “He really means it—both in private and public talks.”
In Ohtani’s perspective, that translates to taking on as much as he can manage.
When asked post-elimination about his plans for the next season, Ohtani expressed, “I intend on doing everything,” in Japanese.
If he’s set on maintaining his extensive workload, will the Dodgers stand firm against him?
If Ohtani believes a new offseason routine will enable him to handle both roles for an entire season, can the Dodgers convince him of the risks involved?
The organization should have learned by now that Ohtani won’t limit himself voluntarily.
He has largely succeeded in the past, primarily due to his significant talents that allowed him to navigate many challenges. But ultimately, no athlete can outrun time, and this season underscored that reality for Ohtani.
By mid-July, he had to stop pitching due to issues with his left knee and right arm, and by mid-August, he was no longer the MVP-caliber hitter he had been. During the playoffs, he appeared more as a theoretical threat, hitting just .192 and striking out 10 times out of 32 plate appearances, finally hitting a home run the night the Dodgers were knocked out.
Friedman seemed to grasp what needed to happen.
“Whether we start a little late…” he mentioned, likely hinting at Ohtani possibly delaying his season start as a pitcher.
And if he’s playing in both capacities from the get-go, Friedman raised the challenge of how they’d manage his participation during the first month and evaluate performance then.
The Dodgers ought to communicate their thoughts clearly with Ohtani.
Directness is key.
If Ohtani is truly as open-minded as Friedman suggests, he should comprehend that the team cares about what’s best for him alongside what’s best for the organization.
He’s not in his twenties anymore, so he needs to adapt. The Dodgers have to help him navigate this adjustment, starting with an honest assessment of his current limitations.
