I cannot quit Gleyber Torres
I just cannot quit Gleyber Torres.
No matter how many years go by, no matter how many nonchalant errors he makes, and no matter how apoplectic his lackadaisical baserunning makes me, I cannot give up on the one-time prodigy with prodigious untapped potential.
As the dust settles on a galling World Series reality check for the Yankees, and attention turns to reconfiguring a flawed roster in the offseason, much of the focus is understandably on retaining Juan Soto. But the Bombers have multiple gaps to fill as several cornerstones depart for free agency – the most polarising of which is the mercurial Venezuelan second baseman who has been ensconced in pinstripes since 2018.
Gleyber is a goner in the Bronx, if the whispered consensus is to be believed. The Yankees reportedly have minimal interest in re-signing Torres, and Brian Cashman telegraphed their plans at the recent general manager meetings, thanking Gleyber for his service while encouraging him to speak with other teams.
The Yankees could feasibly shift Jazz Chisholm to second base, or promote hotshot second-sacker Caleb Durbin following his sudden ascent through the farm. Oswaldo Cabrera has also shown enough fizz to warrant a longer look, while a resolution on the long-term future of Oswald Peraza needs to be found. Such cost-effective measures may appeal to Cashman should the Yankees drop more than $600 million on Soto, and Torres is thus deemed an expendable luxury.
Most Yankees fans agree with that assessment, frustrated by Torres’ perceived lack of hustle, apparent indifference, casual fielding, cavalier baserunning and laissez-faire lack of instincts. Many brand Torres ‘lazy,’ though I’m uncomfortable using such derogatory labels because they are too readily applied to non-white, non-American players.
Others have called Torres a ‘losing player’ – someone who will inevitably cost his team at the worst moment with an inexplicable gaffe. That happened in the recent World Series, of course, as Gleyber carelessly misplayed an eighth inning relay throw in Game 1, allowing Shohei Ohtani to advance an extra 90 feet and subsequently tie the game on a Mookie Betts sacrifice fly. That heartrending loss will be most remembered for Freddie Freeman’s legendary walk-off home run, but such avoidable mistakes increase Gleyber’s chances of being the sacrificial lamb of a team, burned by turgid fundamentals, keen to do something to effect change.
Many of those points are inarguable, but I still struggle to let Gleyber go. Even after living through every second of the frustration wrought by his faulty flamboyance, I still believe there is a very good player buried somewhere deep within. My heart, head and eyes are conflicted regarding Gleyber Torres, and that leaves me continually perplexed.
All my baseball acumen tells me he should be a total stud, that he has the potential to be great. Gleyber just looks like a ballplayer. Like a superstar, in fact. He has what old school scouts used to call The Good Face – just by looking at him, sagacious baseball scholars can foresee a toolsy, contact-hitting, slick-fielding middle infielder with the grimy reflexes and irrepressible fire of an obsessive baseball rat. But on the field, I only see that sporadically, and on Fangraphs, I hardly see it at all, deepening the paradox.
Gleyber Torres is the ultimate baseball enigma, in this regard. I don’t know whether he is underrated or overrated, unfairly criticised or rightly chastised. I don’t know whether he is the greatest bad player of his generation, or the worst great player. Truthfully, he is probably somewhere in-between – league average incarnate – but I defy anyone to watch his raw skills over a prolonged period and not believe there is an All-Star there, waiting to be unleashed.
Torres is a free agent at 27, which tells you he reached the big leagues at a precocious age. Consider, for context, that Oneil Cruz – the Pirates’ much-hyped infield starlet – is 26 and has only managed one full MLB season to date. Torres, by contrast, has been incredibly durable, playing 888 regular season games across seven seasons – an 86% post rate. Gleyber also has 45 postseason games to his credit, including three trips to the ALCS and that ill-fated World Series appearance. In fact, since coming to the Yankees as a heralded prospect in the 2016 Aroldis Chapman trade, Torres has been a core Cashman building block – an ever-present, if not a central spoke.
Once considered the Yankees’ top prospect – ahead of Aaron Judge, no less – and the top shortstop prospect in all of baseball – ahead of Fernando Tatís Jr., Bo Bichette and Willy Adames – Torres has admittedly failed to become the generational Adonis projected by evaluators during his time in the Cubs’ minor league system. Nevertheless, he is still a productive player, and many people forget that – owning, perhaps, to those inflated expectations.
Gleyber is a career .265 hitter, which is a lot better than it sounds in an age of historically suppressed batting averages. The league-wide average was .243 in 2024, the joint-lowest since 1968. Moreover, Torres averages 25 home runs, 28 doubles and 80 RBI per 162 games – good marks for a second baseman. Overall, his career OPS+ of 112 seems about right – Gleyber quantified as 12% better than league average.
There are perks hidden in the data, though, if you know where to look. For instance, since Gleyber entered MLB in 2018, among batters with at least 3,500 plate appearances, he has a better walk percentage than Rafael Devers; a lower strikeout percentage than Bryce Harper; a higher batting average than Matt Olson; a better on-base percentage than Cody Bellinger; a greater line drive rate than Manny Machado; and a better oppo percentage than Ohtani, Soto and Judge. Cherrypicked plaudits, perhaps, but scattered figments of a talented player in need of cohesion, regardless.
Unfairly, Gleyber’s best season – 2019 – probably further skewed the baseline expectations that were already overhyped during his Cubs matriculation. That year, as a 22-year-old, Torres hit .278 with 38 home runs and 90 RBI. Subterranean whispers of a juiced ball may have inflated those outputs, which are indeed incongruous on Gleyber’s ledger, but at the time, Torres was one of the brightest young players in the league. It is hard to quit on that dream.
This, of course, speaks to the illogical essence of fandom. As passionate onlookers, we become attached to our favourite players and – well – anyone who sticks around long enough, really. In particular, fans develop nostalgic and sentimental bonds with feted prospects who are billed as future stars. Part of me still believes Wilson Betemit could be an everyday third baseman, for instance, or that Jeremy Bonderman could win a Cy Young. Call it delusional, sure, but fandom itself is delusional. We all entertain alternative universes, and in one of mine, Gleyber Torres is a borderline Hall of Famer.
Gradually, of course, that eventuality – that hope, that fantasy, that potential – has slipped away, with one complicated season after another, culminating in a poor 2024 campaign. In a demoralising platform year, Torres hit .257 with 15 home runs, 63 RBI and a .330 OBP. Gleyber struck out more than ever, and finished with a middling OPS+ of 101. Per Baseball Savant, Torres also ranked terribly in bat speed (23rd percentile), range (15th percentile), arm strength (7th percentile) and sprint speed (29th percentile) this year. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, granted, and such data points have led sabermetricians to declare Gleyber a write-off.
Nevertheless, even amid the wreckage of that microcosmic 2024, rays of hope can be salvaged. For instance, when batting first in the order – as he did 56 times – Gleyber hit .283 with a .350 OBP. When positioned fifth, sixth or seventh, by contrast, he hit .240 with a .320 OBP. This suggests a difference in approach – conscious or otherwise – based on Gleyber’s place in the lineup.
Indeed, after being switched to leadoff permanently on 16 August, through the rest of the regular season – a 39-game sample size – Torres hit .313 with a .386 OBP. Therefore, perhaps inappropriate deployment is partly to blame for Gleyber’s woes – a bat-to-ball line drive hitter trying and failing to fulfil a slugging archetype prescribed from on high.
To that end, Torres is undoubtedly a bat-first commodity at this point, and rightfully, much of the criticism centres on his defence. Since 2018, among 61 fielders with 5,000 or more defensive innings, Torres ranks 51st in ultimate zone rating (UZR), 52nd in outs-above-average (OAA), 56th in fielding run value (FVR) and 43rd in defensive wins above replacement (WAR). Short of ham-fisted plodders like Kyle Schwarber and Pete Alonso, there may be no worse everyday defender in the game.
However – and this may be the most counterintuitive conundrum of all, given Gleyber’s blasé style – the eye test keeps me believing in Torres. Even as he loafs out of the box. Even as he fails to apply himself on the bases. Even as he impatiently flails at off-speed junk in the opposing batters’ box. Call me delusional or misinformed, but I still see the raw makeup of a very good ballplayer. I still see the potential.
In the right situation – hitting leadoff, perhaps in a new city, with reduced pressure, away from the Gotham glare – Gleyber Torres could be a core dynamo. With the correct coaching, and maybe even a change of position – third base or a corner outfield spot, perhaps – he could find an approach that accentuates his strengths while masking his weaknesses.
Personally, I hope the Yankees bring Gleyber back, but if not, I would like to see him sign a one-year ‘prove it’ deal with a new team like Seattle, San Francisco, Minnesota or Kansas City. Gleyber is the classic ‘change of scenery’ guy, and though it may seem hyperbolic, I’m convinced he could win a batting title with the right tuition. Whether he can find that, and whether he will allow it to happen, is another debate entirely.
As a neurodivergent introvert who struggles with depression, anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder, I’m loathe to psychoanalyse anyone – especially professional athletes who possess more skill than I could ever comprehend. I hate sports talk radio hosts who question the mental fortitude of players, as they do every day. Yet the psychological aspect – approach, focus, commitment, ambition, drive – does seem to house the disconnect between Gleyber’s enormous potential and his underwhelming performance. It will bring me great joy if somebody unlocks that, and I’m rooting for such an outcome in 2025 and beyond.
Ultimately, Gleyber Torres is a two-time All-Star who has garnered down-ballot Rookie of the Year and MVP votes during his career. Of course, you can never take anything for granted, and we have seen the production of many players fall off a proverbial cliff unexpectedly. But Gleyber is 27 and, theoretically, should have four or five good years ahead of him. With the right conditioning and mentoring, another decade in the big leagues is not impossible, nor is a place in the 2,000-hit club. Someone should take a chance on that, because the upside is obvious.
And if this is the end for Gleyber in New York, Yankees fans cannot really complain. After all, for half a season of Aroldis Chapman, they got seven years of solid production from second base. Oh, and they re-signed Chapman the winter after he was traded, so the cost of procuring Torres was negligible. Yes, Gleyber became more Jhonny Peralta than Robinson Canó, more Javy Báez than Francisco Lindor, but predictions of greatness should not shroud realities of adequacy.
Gleyber Torres is the ultimate lightning rod of baseball polarisation – a divisive weathervane held aloft as proof by scouts and data nerds alike. Where he lands this winter will tell us a lot about where baseball is, and where it is going, in terms of player evaluation. Gleyber is the litmus test, and if I were running a team, I would give him another shot. That may seem hallucinatory, and it likely explains why I do not run a team, but it is a hill I’m prepared to die on. Gleyber Torres can be elite, and I yearn to see it happen.