The approach the Red Sox are taking to defense is, well, indefensible
What’s perplexing is that this seems to be by design, as if Chaim Bloom and the Red Sox’ analytics staff determined that there would be marginal consequences to neglecting the defense.
Question: In a hypothetical world in which the Red Sox lineup was actually constructed with a serious attempt at defensive cohesion, how many regulars would be best suited as a designated hitter?
Red Sox
I say at least four. At least. Justin Turner has been the DH for a team-high 43 games, so we must start there.
Masataka Yoshida? He’s a blast to watch hit, but he plays a Greenwellian left field. He’s a DH.
Rafael Devers? This is Year 7 for him, and he’s still inconsistent at best at third base. He’s probably a DH.
Triston Casas, who was supposed to be a defensive upgrade on last year’s mess at first base, has been stunningly poor. He’s a DH, and that’s assuming he will become a capable H.
Maybe I’m still a naive baseball fan, but it seems to me that when roughly half of a team’s lineup utilizes gloves made of an alloy that will never be confused with gold, it’s a surefire way to undermine a pitching staff and enhance the degree of difficulty in securing victories.
That is exactly what has happened for this mediocre, often maddening Red Sox team.
What’s perplexing is that this seems to be by design, as if Chaim Bloom and the Red Sox’ analytics staff determined that there would be marginal consequences to neglecting the defense.
It’s not just that the Red Sox feature multiple poor defenders, particularly in the infield. It’s that they often have utilized good-to-excellent defensive players at a position where they are not nearly as competent.
Adam Duvall won a Gold Glove in 2021 when he totaled 137 games in the outfield for the Marlins and Braves (77 in right field, 51 in left, and 30 in center). He’d be a fantastic left fielder for the Red Sox, but they are playing him in center, where he is capable but not as rangy as you’d like.
The best-case scenario for Duvall — at the plate and in the field — is that he’s the modern version of what Tony Armas was for the Red Sox from 1983-85 (he fell off significantly in ‘86), when he played a competent center field and averaged 36 home runs, 126 strikeouts, and posted a .782 OPS.
Then there’s the most egregious example of a good fielder put in a bad spot: poor Kiké Hernández.
As a center fielder, Hernández is a pitcher’s ally, a spectacular defender with a gift for getting roadrunner-quick jumps on fly balls. As a shortstop … say, did we mention he’s a spectacular center fielder?
Hernández, who entered this season with 64 starts and 618 innings at shortstop in nine seasons, was put in an untenable position as the everyday player at the position following Trevor Story’s injury and the front office’s decision last year to only feign interest in retaining Xander Bogaerts.
Hernández was game, but he was a disaster, making an MLB-high 14 errors — 13 coming on throws in a bizarre tribute to Butch Hobson’s 1978 season — before losing the job this week to glove-only replacement-level player Pablo Reyes.
Manager Alex Cora sounded less than thrilled about the decision to move Hernández — a smart if limited player who genuinely cares about winning — into a utility role, wryly noting that when he inevitably has to pinch hit for Reyes, Hernández will be the late-inning shortstop anyway.
Cora himself might be the better defensive option there, but he clearly appreciates Hernández, whose fundamental failure at the position is not his fault, but that of the people asking him to do something outside of his skill set.
Asking players to take the field at unfamiliar positions has been a misguided quirk of Bloom’s tenure. Playing Kyle Schwarber occasionally at first base made sense; there was a void at the position, it’s not as hard to learn as Ron Washington made it seem in “Moneyball,” and he was an offensive force.
But there have been times when the Red Sox tried to shoehorn a player into a position he could not play. If Hernández isn’t the most egregious example, it’s only because they gave Franchy Cordero 53 games — 53! — at first base last season.
Casas was supposed to be a major defensive upgrade. Instead, he’s now losing time in the field to the 38-year-old Turner, who had played all of 39 games at the position in his 14 previous major league seasons. Turner has played 18 games at first already this season, and let’s just say he hasn’t reminded anyone of 2004 Doug Mientkiewicz with the leather.
Occasionally, it works out when a player gets a shot at an unfamiliar position. Alex Verdugo has been much better in right field this season than anticipated. Actually, strike that “occasionally.” This is the only example that comes to mind.
It’s just so strange. The Red Sox aim to win in the margins, yet seem to favor players who are willing to play multiple positions with varying degrees of aptitude — and, too often, ineptitude — over those who can play one position well.
There has to be a catch here. But like those assorted Red Sox fielders asked to play out of position, I’m just not getting it.
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