In Fever Pitch, his memoir about a lifetime of suffering as a sports fan, author Nick Hornby wrote: “I would like to be one of those people who treat their local team like their local restaurant, and thus withdraw their patronage if they are being served up noxious rubbish.” Of course Hornby couldn’t do it. And we get it, right?
Reds fans can’t entirely withdraw either, which is exactly what Phil Castellini was counting on in 2022 when he asked us where we were gonna go. (Though some of us had a good answer, and Great American Ball Park attendance dipped below two million this season for the first time since then.)
Make no mistake: We were served noxious rubbish in 2026. The Reds finished 75-87, last in the National League Central. The low point came on September 11, when the Brewers clinched a playoff spot by beating Cincinnati 20-0. No team has ever clinched by a wider margin. That was bad, but the Reds haven’t won a postseason series in 31 years, baseball’s longest drought, so “bad” is not a new concept around here.
And yet, somehow, it got uglier as the season wound down and we got a peek inside the kitchen. Two weeks ago, I explained why the Brewers were consistent winners and the Reds were not. Two days after that, Ken Rosenthal and C. Trent Rosecrans of The Athletic did a deep dive, revealing that Bob Castellini asked his top baseball officials a question during the first half of the season: “Why aren’t we the Brewers?” Nick Krall reportedly answered with a list of trades Bob had refused to approve.
The Athletic also reported that ownership overruled Krall last winter, ordering him to chase a home run hitter (Eugenio Suarez) when he wanted to sign a pitcher (Nick Martinez, who left for Tampa Bay and had the best season of his career). Someone clearly wanted those stories told in the media.
Then again, the same piece makes clear that Krall owns plenty of this rubbish, too. He gave up too much for Gavin Lux, got too little for Raisel Iglesias and Sonny Gray, and whiffed on Jeimer Candelario and Ke’Bryan Hayes. And on and on and on.
So the owner blames the front office, and the front office blames the owner. Something has to give, right? Well, no. This is Cincinnati, after all. Days later, Phil sat down between Krall and GM Brad Meador to announce that ownership is fully behind its baseball people. As for their strategy going forward, he said he wouldn’t call it “a dynamic change,” just a renewed commitment to the plan they already have. Woo hoo!
Pick your villain. If it’s ownership, the Castellinis say they aren’t selling. If it’s the front office, it just got a vote of confidence. If it’s both (hint: it’s both), everybody’s coming back. Any way you slice it, this is a completely dysfunctional organization.
Every October, I’ve used this space to write the Reds a prescription for the coming season. (Back in 2014, my first year at The Magazine, I ended a column with “Keep those fingers crossed, Reds fans.” My fingers are tired.) It would be easy to write another off-season preview this time around; the problems plaguing this roster aren’t a secret. Find a real center fielder and a leadoff hitter and a catcher and stop running the league’s worst hitter out there at third base. Rebuild the bullpen with pitchers who throw strikes and build real depth in the rotation. Fix the defense.
None of that is necessarily easy, but it isn’t complicated either. It just requires good decisions made consistently by competent baseball people who aren’t obstructed by ownership. And therein lies the problem. This organization has shown, over and over, that it can’t manage competency.
Bob asked why the Reds aren’t the Brewers. The answers are obvious, and we’ve spent the last couple of weeks discussing them. But the simple fact is we ain’t the Brewers. And that’s not going to change as long as the current ownership and front office continue occupying their suites at 100 Joe Nuxhall Way.
And thus there is no reason to believe that the 2027 Reds will be successful since they’re running it back with the same group. Of course, there may be no baseball in 2027 at all.
Baseball’s labor deal expires December 1, and the owners are widely expected to lock out the players immediately. The fight is over a salary cap: The owners proposed a $245.3 million cap and a $171.2 million floor, and the players union won’t entertain it.
I guess small-market fans like us are supposed to cheer for a payroll floor; the Reds would need to add more than $22 million to reach it. But Milwaukee spends about the same as Cincinnati and wins nearly every year. Money was never entirely the Reds’ problem, and another $20-plus million in Krall’s hands won’t fix a thing. A cap’s purpose, at least in part, is propping up franchise values, and Forbes already pegs the Reds at $1.6 billion, nearly six times what the Castellini group paid in 2006.
How long could a lockout last? The last one ran 99 days. This time, according to some reports, losing 60 or more games would extend most of MLB’s national TV deals another year, delaying a windfall the owners badly want. But let’s not shed a tear for the owners: Most of those TV networks must pay the league in 2027 even if no games are played. The ballparks might sit empty, but the broadcast checks keep coming.
So I guess that brings me to my final thought on the 2026 season, and I’m only partly joking. A canceled 2027 might be the best thing that could happen to Reds fans.
Hornby couldn’t walk away from his restaurant, and if you’re reading a Cincinnati baseball column in October, I know you’re a diehard fan who can’t just walk away from the Reds. But try to imagine a year without embarrassingly bad baseball on the field. A year without press conferences promising championship baseball from the same people who have continually failed us. A long, quiet summer to get outside, take the kids to the pool, and remember why we fell in love with this game.
I’d spend mine with the 1940 Reds and the Nasty Boys and Dave Parker and Frank Robinson and Edd Roush. History has already been written, and it can’t break my heart again like the Reds do every season.
Take the year off, my friends. Our mental health could use it. Of course, we’ll probably be back at some point. We always are. That’s the whole problem, and Phil Castellini knows it.
Chad Dotson helms Reds coverage at Cincinnati Magazine and is co-author of “The Big 50: The Men and Moments That Made the Cincinnati Reds.” His newsletter about Cincinnati sports can be found at chaddotson.com.
