Justin Orenduff of DVS tossed up a figure last week and it’s taken me the better part of a week to wrap my head around this. The number is 24.6 - that’s the percentage of all MLB players on the IL right now. I haven’t been able to fully check this and it’s based around a couple things that I think alter the number slightly, but there’s no question Orenduff’s stat is mostly correct. We can argue about fine adjustments later.
Twenty-five percent. A quarter of Major League Baseball is on the injured list, and we’re just barely out of April. That’s not a trend, that’s a pandemic. You don’t need a medical degree or a sabermetric model — you need a calculator, a barf bag, and a fire extinguisher because this thing is burning money and logic at the same time.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t “bad luck” or “part of the game.” This is a $12 billion industry treating million-dollar bodies like they’re a bunch of lawnmowers on discount at Home Depot. Wood chipper jokes are easy. Star pitchers, multi-year investments, are going down faster than you can say “Frank Jobe.” Entire rotations are turning into surgical case studies.
Now, yes, the Dodgers lost more days to injury than anyone else last year. 2,158 days! That’s six collective seasons. And what did they do? They bought their way out. They stacked depth like baccarat chips in Casino Royale. Glasnow breaks down? Here’s another golden arm. Mookie needs a rest? Here’s a utility guy making more than Bobby Axelrod’s traders. But that’s not a solution. That’s an accounting strategy masquerading as resilience.
The rest of the league? They don’t have that luxury. The Pirates won’t Venmo their way out of losing a starter. The Rays won’t call Goldman Sachs when their bullpen implodes (even though that’s where Stu Sternberg made his money.) These teams are watching their seasons disintegrate before Memorial Day and MLB shrugs like this is weather.
And yes, let’s talk about the clock. You want to know what happens when you take a sport built on recovery and rhythm and jam it into a microwave? You blow something up. Pitchers used to breathe between bullets. Now they’re sprinting between the landmines. I told you this might happen. Oh, but pace of play is up! Wonderful! We shaved 14 minutes off a game but added months to rehab.
So here we are: 25% of players down, hundreds of millions of dollars bleeding into cold tubs, and no one in charge seems panicked. You, the fan, should be. Because this isn’t a blip. This is what happens when you optimize for spectacle instead of sustainability. When you chase velocity like it’s the Holy Grail and treat 98 mph as the floor, not the ceiling.
Baseball isn’t breaking. Twenty-five percent is already broken. But it’s screaming for help, just like your elbow after back-to-back cutters at max effort with 15 seconds to breathe. It doesn’t have to be this way, but it does have to change, and fast, something it’s not very good at. MLB isn’t alone. I showed you on Wednesday that every sport is dealing with an “injury epidemic”, but MLB doesn’t have the TV money cushion the NBA does, or the time.
I’m not sure we ever knew the manager’s real name in Bull Durham. He’s listed as “Skip”, but he got the great rant in the shower about “This is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. You got it?” It should be the same with injuries, but it’s not. When Bill Parcells coined “the best ability is availability”, we should have listened right there. It’s time for baseball to get serious. Really serious.
[Ed Note: I watched the movie for the eight millionth time, still good, and when Crash Davis first comes in to the manager’s office, he introduces himself as Joe Riggins! Maybe he’s related to Tim?]
Let’s get to the bleeping injuries:
DYLAN CEASE, SP SDP (no injury)
Dylan Cease made it clear why he had to come out of Wednesday’s game with this quote: "It basically made my hand close tight for a couple of seconds. I don't think it's anything too serious," after taking a no-hitter bid into later innings. Okay, the sixth, but that counts these days. It didn’t last much longer and Cease was pulled before it got close and while it went to extras and wiped out what Cease did, it’s still notable.
If this is just cramps, those happen and are seldom just something like dehydration. It can be corrected but are often a symptom rather than the real problem. It’s why Gatorade isn’t enough most times and why quacks recommend pickle juice and the like. There’s evidence that these are more genetic, but the generally accepted cause is neuromuscular fatigue. The signals from the nerves get crossed and the muscles get weird signals, leading to cramps. You can see the issue here - cramps are likely a signal of fatigue more than hydration and we know that fatigue is the biggest enemy of keeping pitchers healthy.
Mike Schildt gave Cease credit for calling it out, for letting the medical staff know about the issue. Cease was at 89 pitches and Cody Bellinger had just tanked him. That let Jason Adam get all the warm he needed and while I’m not questioning this, I am noting it. Adam faired no better, cramp or not, and the Padres ended up losing in the ghost runner 10th, so some of this is academic. Joe Sheehan has been talking about the “1/x”, which is how we should be looking at extra inning things, even if someone goes full Ryan Pressly and blows up. It’s functionally a one run loss the same way a shootout loss happens in the NHL or a long field goal in the NFL.
For Cease, it sounds like the Padres are taking this seriously and if there is some sort of fatigue in his forearm, they’re better set up than most to measure that. We’ll have to watch to see if they buy him some extra rest of if they feel his normal recovery will be enough to get him back to where he needs to be before his next start. As of now, he’s expected to go.
KRIS BRYANT, OF COL (degenerative disc disease)
When back pain lingers - gnawing, persistent, immune to meds and PT as Kris Bryant’s has been - radiofrequency ablation (RFA) steps in like a sniper. It doesn’t rebuild discs or realign spines. It shuts off the pain signal. Picture a thin probe, guided by imaging, hunting down the nerve root like it’s got a warrant. Once it finds its target, radiofrequency energy heats the nerve, cauterizing its ability to shout “pain!” back to the brain. It doesn’t fix the problem, just the symptom.
The procedure itself? Outpatient. Local anesthetic. Maybe some sedation if he’s anxious. Most patients walk out under their own power and feel muscle soreness more than anything else. The real results kick in days to weeks later, if the right nerve was zapped. When it works, relief lasts six months to two years. When it doesn’t, it’s back to square one. But success rates are solid: 60 to 80 percent, depending on the condition and the skill of the operator. Bryant has one of the best.
So why worry? Infection. Any time you break the skin, especially near the spine, you open the door. We’re talking rare, but if bacteria get in, it’s not just a red spot. It’s a potential spinal abscess. That’s why sterile protocols matter and why this surgery was delayed at just the suggestion Bryant might have been more likely to get one due to blood in the area.
So Bryant goes from being “ready to come back soon” to at least a month and probably more towards six weeks with his history and a need for at least a short rehab. Bryant avoided this procedure last year, but couldn’t this time around.
Believe me, today more than most days, you’re going to want to know what’s going on with the Dodgers, Brewers, Cards, and more. Five bucks?