No Place to Hyde

Here’s what happens when news moves faster than you can type …

This morning, I wrote a piece about Adley Rutschman and his utterly inexplicable freefall and how his manager, Brandon Hyde, would probably lose his job over it.

I intended to send it out this afternoon after returning to the hotel from my event at the Gaithersburg Film Festival.

Well, I’m back at the hotel now.

Hyde has already been fired.

Stuff happens so quickly in 2025.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t think Rutschman’s bizarre collapse is the only reason — or necessarily even the main reason — for Hyde’s demise. I mean, the Orioles are 15-28. They have the worst ERA in the American League and the worst FIP in baseball. Nobody is living up to the hype. It’s a full-on disintegration, and I don’t mean to put it all on one guy, especially one guy who would give both his kidneys for his teammates and his ballclub.

BUT … as I wrote in the piece that will never run:

“Orioles manager Brandon Hyde doesn’t seem to know what to do about Adley. Maybe there’s nothing to do, but he’s doing the sort of desperate stuff managers do just before they get fired. … He’s speaking wishfully about Rutschman getting hot any minute now. I don’t know if Rutschman will get hotter, but Hyde’s managerial seat sure is. Right now, his seat is hotter than Furrnace Creek in Death Valley.”

I looked up that fact about Furnace Creek being the hottest place on earth.

Turns out, Hyde’s seat was even hotter than that.

Hyde’s firing fits perfectly in the Manager of the Year Curse. He was the runaway choice of AL Skipper of 2023, and now he joins Skip Schumacher, Buck Showalter, Gabe Kapler, Don Mattingly, Mike Shildt and a cast of thousands of managers who have been canned before they even figured out where to put the trophy.

As is always the case, Hyde’s departure is more a reflection of this club’s purposelessness than anything else. I’ve been screaming for months that this team is blowing their chance, that they’re slow-playing their hand of superstar prospects rather than trying to actually win right now. They don’t want to spend money, they don’t want to make bold moves, and they came into this season with a broken pitching staff that — to repeat! — has the worst ERA in the league and worst FIP in all of baseball.

But believe it or not, I think Rutschman’s collapse has hurt even more than the pitching. I mean, the Orioles knew that pitching was a concern. They fully expected this lineup of young mashers — Rutschman and Gunnar Henderson and Jackson Holliday and the rest — to bash their way to some high scoring wins. Hasn’t happened. This team is 5-25 when allowing four or more runs. That’s understandable when the club gives up 24 runs like they did to Cincinnati. But they’re 5-15 in games when pitchers allow 4-6 runs, and that’s not going to get it done.

More, though, I think Rutschman’s breakdown has been emotionally crushing. He was THE GUY, you know? On June 27, 2024, Adley Rutschman was hitting .300, playing Gold Glove defense, and he was on pace for the first 30 home run season of his career. MVP talk was in the air. This was exactly as it had been written in the stars. Rutschman was the first pick in the 2019 draft after leading Oregon State to a College World Series championship. He was the top prospect in the game more or less from the first minute he put on a minor-league uniform.

“There are no holes in his game,” Baseball America gushed.

“He’s perhaps the best catching prospect since Joe Mauer,” MLB.com raved.

And as good a player as he was — pure hitter, good power, great defense — his true superpower was his leadership. Everybody said so. Every so often, and not very often, a player comes along who just inspires confidence and enthusiasm in everybody around them. Albert Pujols was such a player. Diana Taurasi was such a player. Patrick Mahomes is such a player. Adley Rutschman was made up of such stuff. The minute he joined the 110-loss Orioles, they started winning. His second year was 2023 — Brandon Hyde’s Manager of the Year season — and Adley was at the heart of the winning and received MVP votes.

In June of 2024, he seemed on his way to the best season yet.

Then he stopped hitting. Just stopped. For the rest of the season, he hit .189/.279/280.

I call these “Memo Paris Slumps” because they’re unfathomable, and they come out of nowhere, and they’re all-consuming, and it seems that the only way to end them is to have Glenn Close stand up wearing white.

A more logical conclusion is that Adley was hurt, and that after an offseason of R&R, he would return with a healthy mind, body and spirit. On Opening Day, he went 3-for-5 with two homers. Yay Adley!

Since Opening Day, Adley Rutschman is hitting .200/.300/.293.

Boo Adley!*

I don’t know exactly what a manager is supposed to do when his most indispenable player just loses his way. Brandon Hyde tried stuff. He tried hitting Rutschman first and also third and also cleanup and also fifth. He kept telling reporters that Adley was just hitting into bad luck*. He kept insisting that Rutschman would get hot any minute.

Any minute.

You know, any minute.

At some point, it all started sounding less like a plan and more like a prayer.

Being a baseball manager is a tough gig. There are only so many levers you can pull, only so many statements you can make, only so many rabbits in your hat. They love you when the team wins. They’ll give you lovely pieces of metal. But when your front office is timid, and your owner doesn’t want to spend money, and your pitching goes south, and your franchise player loses his mojo, and the winning stops, there’s not much left to do except pack up your things and thank the organization for the opportunity.

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