This last game will be remembered for a long time. Ohtani walked the first batter he faced before striking out the next three. He then stepped up to the plate and launched the ball over four hundred feet—the first time in MLB history that one of the game's pitchers hit a home run in the first. And that was just the beginning! Over the course of six innings, Ohtani – in his cool, inimitable manner, with a movement that combined grace and power – gave up only two hits and struck out ten, including six of the seven batters he faced in one stretch. In between, he hit his second homer, which left the stadium through the roof in center field. As he hung in the night sky, his teammates on the bench and in the bullpen, who had seen all of Ohtani's Bunyan-esque exploits up close, clutched their heads in disbelief. And then he hit the third one! It was the greatest performance by the greatest player in history.
Ohtani's value to the Los Angeles Dodgers is immeasurable. His contract – seven hundred million dollars over ten years with team-friendly extensions – is, given what he brings to the team both on and off the field, a steal. However, not every MLB team could or would pay anyone that much, let alone surround him with other players on giant contracts.
The Dodgers' payroll is over three hundred and fifty million dollars, nearly three times that of the Brewers. This has raised the usual concerns about competitive imbalances and the plight of teams operating in smaller markets. It's easy enough to see the rough outlines of the narrative. In Game 1 of the NLCS, Blake Snell, a former Cy Young winner who signed with the Dodgers in the offseason for nearly two hundred million dollars, pitched eight shutout innings. Then in the second game came Yoshinobu Yamamoto (three hundred and twenty-five million in twelve years), who gave up a home run to the first batter before pitching a complete game in which no one else reached second base. Tyler Glasnow, who signed with the club for over one hundred and thirty million dollars over five years, gave up one run in the third game. Then Ohtani came. The Dodgers had fifteen straight winning seasons and thirteen straight playoff appearances, and had already won two World Series this decade. They need another championship like Taylor Swift needs a Grammy. But they have become a symbol of something more than just a juggernaut. Sometimes they are presented as a real threat to other teams.
It's a strange argument: The Brewers, not the Dodgers, had the best regular season record in baseball. In fact, the Dodgers had a long run of mediocre midseason play and lost all six regular season games they played against the Brewers this year. If anything, both franchises seem to support the idea that pay is only loosely correlated with success. (And let's not talk about New York Mets.) Moreover, much of the Dodgers' talent was undervalued by other teams. The Boston Red Sox traded Betts to the Dodgers. Max Muncy, who recently set a postseason record for most players, has been suspended after being released by the Oakland Athletics. Snell's agent had trouble finding a buyer last offseason. Rocky Sasaki, who was an impressive starting pitcher in Japan, was in demand by virtually every MLB team – each of which would be allowed to pay him more or less the same small amount due to MLB rules prohibiting free agency for international amateurs. But his choice to go to the Dodgers was confirmed when he struggled mightily with his velocity as a starter after joining the team. He went to the Dodgers' complex in Arizona, worked with the team's technical staff, fine-tuned his mechanics and accepted a new role in the bullpen, becoming a formidable pitcher almost overnight. This is a story about competence and trust, as well as luxury taxes and income.
That's what really sets the Dodgers apart: they're good at the game. goodnot just sometimes great. Pat Murphy, the Brewers' manager, has been leading a media frenzy this past week, trying to prove that his team is the greatest underdog the sport has ever seen. He drew attention to the difference in salaries. He joked that the series would only be fair if Dodgers players wore gloves on opposite hands. Murphy gave the writer an argument in favor of Athletic that his team had no stars and the Dodgers were full of celebrities. Then, as evidence, he pointed to Mookie Betts, who was just passing by in a golf cart driven by a Brewers clubhouse attendant. A wide smile appeared on Betts' face. He was treated better than Murphy in his own stadium!
Or perhaps there was a simpler explanation. Of course, Betts was offered a ride: his smile is contagious. Who can resist him? Likewise, it was impossible to watch Ohtani on Friday and do nothing but appreciate the grace of his movements and the grandeur of his performance. Even a hater has to lift his cap. ♦
