One of the most peculiar Major League deals in recent memory was agreed upon one week ago.
On March 29, Minnesota Twins pitcher Randy Dobnak signed a five-year extension.
I’ll ask it for you: Who?
Dobnak has a little more than one year of Major League Service — placing him two years from eligibility for salary arbitration, at which point he would receive a raise above league minimum — and has made 15 career regular-season starts. His most significant start came at Yankee Stadium in game 2 of the 2019 ALDS. He took the loss, surrendering four runs in only two innings pitched.
Prior to this extension, he was best known for driving an Uber in the offseason and missing a game during the 2019 pennant race because of his wedding. That’s right, Dobnak himself approved a late-September ceremony, so sure that he wouldn’t be pitching in the big leagues. Dobnak and his fiancée planned the wedding in 2017, and he began the 2019 season in the Florida State League, three promotions away from The Show.
Well, the Twins recently inked him to a guaranteed five-year deal worth $9 million. Were you expecting more?
A deal like this is not without precedent. (What really is these days anyway?) Just last year, Brewers pitcher Freddy Peralta — at a very similar place in terms of service time — signed a five-year deal that guaranteed him $15,500,000. Peralta remarked at the time that his agents weren’t happy about his willingness to sacrifice upside for security.
Peralta is represented by Rep1 Baseball, a firm that includes Ronald Acuña Jr — the 2018 NL Rookie of the Year — and Eloy Jimenez among its clients. Both of those players signed long-term deals very early in their careers for the sake of financial certainty. Jimenez, whose $43 million deal bought out his arbitration years and his first year of free agency and includes two club option years for the White Sox, suffered what could be a season-ending injury (ruptured left pectoral tendon) during Spring Training. Suddenly, his conservative approach doesn’t look as bad.
Acuña signed an eight-year, $100 million deal just around the start of the 2019 season. Fernando Tatis Jr’s recent extension makes Acuña’s accord look extremely club-friendly, but there are significant differences in the two deals that mitigate some of the initial optics. Still, if Acuña continues to perform as he has in his first three years, the Braves will have secured their outfielder’s services well below market value.
What’s abundantly clear is that the agents at Rep1 are not opposed to sacrificing upside for guaranteed security. And we can all agree that even Dobnak’s $9 million represents security, right?
My sense is that the Major League Baseball Players Association was bothered more by the potentially club-friendly deals for Acuña and Jimenez than Randy Dobnak’s $9 million agreement. It feels like comparing felonies to a parking ticket.
The deal buys out Dobnak’s remaining pre-arbitration years and all three years of arbitration. There are three club options tacked onto it, offering the Twins an incredibly low-risk opportunity to retain Dobnak’s services for one, two, or three years beyond the guaranteed seasons.
What’s the player get? A guaranteed nine million, which is a lot of money regardless of whether you’ve ever taking a ride-sharing gig to make ends meet.
The big winner, however, might be Dobnak’s agent. Matthew Gaeta is not a familiar name in baseball’s front offices. His client base is largely in the minors. That’s not to say his players aren’t on their way up, but it seems as though Gaeta will join Dobnak in celebrating their biggest pay days together.
Gaeta’s other notable client is Rays reliever Nick Anderson, who recently suffered a partially torn ligament in his right elbow. While many players and agents view a deal like Dobnak’s as betting against yourself (by capping upside), I do wonder if it doesn’t set an aspirational precedent for some.
Remembering Mike Bell
The baseball world slowed down significantly on Wednesday as hundreds gathered in Scottsdale to celebrate the life of Mike Bell, who was taken from us far too soon at the age of 46 on March 26.
I had the privilege of working with Mike from 2011-2014 in Arizona. So much has already been said about him, and the word vulnerability is used in many stories. Mike was not afraid to open up about his own struggles and fears.
During my time with the D-backs, Mike oversaw the minor leagues as the director of player development. He cared deeply about every player in the system, and he cared about them as people not just players.
Mike was a little more than one year older than me. We liked a lot of the same music, and we obviously both had a passion for baseball. Still, I never saw myself as a peer; that was my own fault. Mike had already been married for about 15 years and he had three kids when I first met him (I was single), but it wasn’t our stations in life that impacted my perspective. I found his composure, approach and perspective to be so mature that I often forgot how close in age we were. He was so disarming and authentic that he transcended age.
Mike forged genuine relationships with people of all backgrounds. He cherished the opportunity to get to know somebody, to listen and relate.
I’ll always remember spending time in his office during Spring Training, just before many minor leaguers were about to be released. There was a weight-bearing pillar not too far from his desk, and on that pillar he would place the magnets bearing the names — visible only to him — of the players who were nearing the end of their time with the organization.
Mike spent 13 seasons in the minors as a player, enjoying part of a year in the big leagues with the Reds in 2000. He understood as well as anyone what it meant to be one of those names.
I thought too little of it at the time, but I’ve been revisiting these moments since his passing: Mike would run down the names of everyone on the pillar, detailing each player’s history, abilities, and projected future. I always appreciated the general roundup, and I never took it as anything more.
Only recently have I come to understand the humanity behind the exercise. Mike needed to process the pending releases of each player. He couldn’t reduce people to mere magnets; he needed to honor their contributions no matter the size.
Mike was selfless, thoughtful, and loving. He will always serve as a model of how to best live our lives. He is survived by his wife, Kelly, and his children, Luke, Mikayla, and Madeline.
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Good stuff, Ryan. The Bell stuff is a good perspective I hadn’t read elsewhere.