Cliff Lee is one of the best pitchers in baseball. So why does he keep getting dealt?
Baseball is a nasty little racket, isn’t it? Those who attempt to make their living playing the game are quickly dehumanized, dissected and allocated according to how their parts and labour can be best utilized for a multi-million dollar organization’s benefit before, ultimately, they are discarded. Every year, hundreds are flooded into this system, which, in turn, means hundreds are piled on the scrap heap. It is generally accepted that the one surefire way to circumvent this merciless, cruel reality is to be so good you’re indispensable. To perform so well you put yourself in a position to call some of your own shots, earn a few perks in your contract, exert some semblance of control over this cold system of mass production. Just be the best, man, and you’re money.
But every rule must have its exception, and when it comes to this particular axiom, the outlier is Cliff Lee. You may have heard of him. He’s really, really good at throwing baseballs. Consider the following: Lee has pitched 200 innings or more in each of the past five seasons, accumulating 31.8 wins above replacement over that span, more than any other pitcher in baseball. He strikes out a ton of batters—at least 170 in each of those campaigns, exceeding 200 twice—and usually gets a ground ball when he doesn’t, posting a ground ball rate above 44 percent during that time. Even as he’s entered his mid-30s, the velocity on both his fastball and cutter have stayed consistent. And perhaps the best thing about him is he hardly walks anybody—no qualified pitcher was able to beat his 1.19 BB/9 and 7.39 strikeout-to-walk ratio in 2012.
Oh, he’s just so good. But the peculiar thing about Lee is that every team he’s played for ends up getting rid of him fairly quickly. He’s been dealt four times during his career and, as MLB creeps toward the July 31 non-waiver trade deadline, the current Phillie is rumoured to be on the block once again. This is not for lack of character or fortitude: The Arkansas native is one of the most mild-mannered, humble individuals in the sport, while maintaining a fierce competitiveness on the mound. And it is obviously not for lack of talent. Lee has been, to put it simply, gamed by the system.
Here’s how it happened:
The first time Lee changed organizations was in June 2002. The Montreal Expos—who had drafted him two years prior—found themselves in a playoff race during a season when the MLB-owned team was being threatened with contraction. Expos GM Omar Minaya made a desperate last stand to reinvigorate the franchise, dealing a package of prospects to Cleveland for starter Bartolo Colon. A 23-year-old leftie named Cliff Lee was one of those prospects.
Lee’s career blossomed in Cleveland, but despite his superlative pitching—he won the Cy Young Award in 2008—the Indians were a losing ball club in 2009 and ownership wasn’t interested in expanding payroll to correct the problem. That meant the $9 million Cleveland would owe Lee the next season—his final year before hitting free agency—became an undesirable investment. So the team shipped its ace to Philadelphia at the deadline in exchange for four prospects. After pitching to a 3.39 ERA in 12 starts down the stretch, Lee started the opening game of the NLDS for the Phillies—the first post-season game of his career—tossing nine brilliant innings in a 5–1 victory over the Rockies. The Phillies eventually fell to the Yankees in the World Series, but they never lost in the five post-season games Lee started.
But Lee became expendable weeks later when Phillies GM Ruben Amaro Jr. put the wheels in motion to acquire Blue Jays ace Roy Halladay. Amaro emptied the prospect pantry to land Halladay and knew Lee was his best bet to restock that cupboard. He also knew the Mariners had been in on the Halladay talks. So Amaro sent Lee to Seattle for a similar prospect package to what the Mariners offered for Halladay. Nothing personal, Amaro told Lee. It was business.
The Mariners—who went on to lose 101 games in 2010—won nine of Lee’s first 13 starts, more than a quarter of the team’s wins to that point. Seattle was clearly sunk and Lee’s status quickly shifted from staff ace to expiring-contract-that-must-be-dealt-immediately. And so, for the third time in 12 months and for the second straight deadline, Lee was on the move again, this time to Texas in exchange for yet another crop of prospects. At the press conference in Seattle, Lee was in a maybe-not-so-surprisingly good mood. He was leaving a last-place ball club to join a solid Rangers team with a six-game division lead and aspirations of reaching the World Series for the first time in franchise history. He was on the verge of becoming a free agent and, for once, choosing his own career destiny. “I think this is the last time I’m going to have to do this,” he said. Or so it seemed.
After the Rangers lost the World Series to the Giants—Lee was again phenomenal, with a 2.78 ERA in five starts and 47 strikeouts in just 35.2 innings—he hit the open market and was wooed by several teams, including the Yankees, who offered Lee a seven-year deal worth $148 million. But Lee surprised everyone by turning that down and rejoining the Phillies, accepting a five-year, $120-million deal. “I never wanted to leave in the first place,” Lee said, noting how much his young family loved the city. Suddenly, everything was fine in his world again. He was part of a lights-out rotation along with Halladay, Cole Hamels and Roy Oswalt, he was with a team that truly wanted him and he finally had a small measure of job security—Amaro granted him a clause that allowed him to block trades to 20 teams. The Phillies won 102 games in his first season back and Lee led the majors in shutouts with six.
The 2012 season was supposed to be an equally prosperous one for the Phillies, but the team ran into a nasty string of misfortune created by an underperforming offence and untimely injuries, including an oblique strain that forced Lee to miss three starts. He had an almost comically unfortunate season; he consistently pitched gems for the Phillies, but the team couldn’t figure out how to win when he was on the mound. Philadelphia went 3-10 in his first 13 starts, despite several excellent outings, including one in San Francisco that the Phillies somehow managed to lose 1–0, after Lee held the Giants scoreless for 10 innings. He didn’t earn his first win until July and didn’t win a single game in which he allowed more than two runs as the Phillies stoutly refused to support him offensively. While Philadelphia’s hitters averaged 4.22 runs per game throughout the season, the team managed just 3.6 during Lee’s starts. The Phillies limped to a .500 record, failing to win the NL East for the first time in five years.
Which brings us to 2013, a year when the Phillies have been even worse, sitting three games below .500 at the season’s halfway point, with Halladay on the DL and five starters not named Cliff who have combined for a 4.72 ERA. Lee has been the lone bright spot, allowing three runs or less in 15 of his first 17 starts, ranking among the top 10 in every statistical category that matters and putting up the third-highest WAR of any pitcher in the game through early July. He’s been one of the few redeemable aspects of Philadelphia’s 2013 season. And he might finish that season wearing another team’s uniform.
With apologies to Lee, you can see where the Phillies are coming from. The team’s core is old and in decline, and, at the end of this season, five starters will become free agents: Halladay, Carlos Ruiz, Chase Utley, Delmon Young and Michael Young. It’s possible none of them will be back, which would hamper Philadelphia’s chances of even maintaining its current mediocrity. The Phillies also have one of the worst minor league systems in baseball. Objectively speaking, it’s time to blow it up.
That means trading veterans who have current value for developing players who have future value. It also means jettisoning any expensive, long-term contracts. At 34, Lee is one of the best pitchers in baseball and is owed $50 million over the next two seasons, plus a $27.5-million option for 2016 that will vest if he pitches either 200 innings in 2015 or 400 over 2014–15, a realistic scenario considering his track record. Viewed through the cold lens of baseball commerce, moving Lee makes sense.
Now, no one will blame you if you lack sympathy for a professional athlete earning an annual salary of $25 million. But we’re talking about a man whose wife, Kristen, and two young children—Jaxon is 12 and Maci is 10—have had to cope with Lee’s wild string of address changes. Kristen cried when she learned her husband had been traded away from Philly in 2009, and when Lee was negotiating his free-agent deal with the club a year later, she told Amaro: “Don’t break our hearts again.”
It’s a cruel, conflicting business, baseball. Humans are measured as assets. Affordability often outweighs ability. Loyalty isn’t in the dictionary. Cliff Lee, one of the best in the business, can’t seem to find a team that wants to keep him around. But rest assured that someday, when Lee has retired to Arkansas with his family, he’ll look back and think it was all worth it. And, someday after that, if he’s voted into the Hall of Fame, he’ll have a hell of a time choosing a cap.
This story originally appeared in Sportsnet magazine. Subscribe here.
