Dodgers oddly having no plan for Clayton Kershaw feels a bit disrespectful

There’s a difference between flexibility and vagueness, and the Dodgers have drifted into the latter with Clayton Kershaw. When a franchise icon is reduced to a shrug, “we’ll see, he’ll be available for whatever” — that doesn’t sound like a strategy; that’s stalling.

Kershaw isn’t a September call-up you stash for vibes. He is the best pitcher in modern Dodgers history, the face of a generation, and a competitor who has earned something better than ambiguous bullpen purgatory. If Los Angeles believes he can help, say how. If they don’t, say that, too. The limbo is the insult.

Postseason baseball is like choreography. Managers preach “roles” for a reason: relievers lock in routines, catchers prep game-plans, and starters-turned-relievers need precise warmup timelines to avoid turning “available” into “compromised.” Right now, the messaging around Kershaw suggests no choreography at all — only a hope that the right moment will reveal itself.

Dodgers’ handling of Clayton Kershaw blurs respect and avoidance

Manager Dave Roberts admitted to Anthony DiComo of MLB.com he’s unsure what leverage they’d hand Kershaw, while adding Kershaw “is going to be available for whatever is asked of him.” 

Andrew Friedman praised the mindset, “I would bet on him to be a part of helping us win this series” — and no one doubts that. But stacking compliments on top of uncertainty just underscores the problem. If the club truly believes Kershaw can move the series, then map the moments: left-on-left pocket in the sixth, a clean ninth with a three-run lead, a bridge to the back end if a starter exits early. Give him a lane, not a label.

The alternative: carry him “just in case” — isn’t harmless. Every “break-glass” arm means a fresher leverage reliever you didn’t carry, a bench bat you can’t deploy, or a speed/defense specialist you’ll wish you had in the eighth. The Dodgers can’t simultaneously preach marginal edges and then spend a precious spot on uncertainty. If the only scenarios you’ll trust are mop-up innings or five-run cushions, you’re admitting his usage is 100 percent cosmetic. How many of those situations appear when the last four teams in baseball are trading punches?

There’s also the human layer. Kershaw has rebuilt routines, pitched through pain, and still shows up. Handing him a uniform without a script isn’t grace, it’s avoidance. Respect looks like clarity: “Here’s your pocket. Here’s your catcher. Here’s how we’ll protect you on back-to-backs. Here’s the exact warm-up progression so you’re not firing hot and sitting cold.” The Dodgers have the infrastructure to do this better than anyone. They can pair him with a quick-strike plan, define the entry (clean inning only), and set the exit (no turns through the order tax). That’s how you translate reverence into wins.

Yes, recent October results make the calculus hard. That’s exactly why the plan has to be tighter. A clearly defined, narrow-but-real job, one matchup window, not “whatever” — gives Kershaw the chance to prepare and the Dodgers the chance to maximize him. Anything less reduces a franchise pillar to a mascot with a mitt.