If you’re trying to explain why the Dodgers feel like they’re playing a different sport right now, you can easily start with a financial decision that basically no one else in MLB would make — and almost no one else could make.
Shohei Ohtani helped build the version of the Dodgers he wanted to join. His deal is structured in a way that’s almost unheard of in modern baseball: $700 million total, with only $2 million paid out each season while he’s actively playing, and the rest deferred. That’s Ohtani handing the front office a yearly oxygen tank and saying, “Go run.”
Because when you defer that much money, you’re opening lanes. The Dodgers can keep operating like the final boss in every blockbuster conversation not because they’re reckless, but because they’ve got a superstar who basically chose roster construction as part of his on-field impact. It’s the rarest kind of “team-first” move in sports: one that actually changes what’s possible.
Dodgers fans should love the cold-blooded genius of Ohtani’s deferrals
And here’s the part fans of other teams don’t want to admit: this isn’t just generosity. It’s leverage.
Most players can’t afford to do this, even if they wanted to. Ohtani can, because his earning power doesn’t start and end with his box scores. He’s an international brand and a global marketing machine. The kind of athlete whose presence can tilt sponsorships, viewership, and interest. The Dodgers are uniquely positioned to turn that into a constant feedback loop of money, winning, and momentum.
So when people call him “one of a kind,” it’s not just because he hits like a middle-of-the-order monster while pitching like an ace when healthy. It’s because his existence makes the Dodgers more dangerous.
That’s also why the league-wide frustration lands a little hollow. The Dodgers didn’t stumble into this. They recruited it. They sold Ohtani on the idea that he wouldn’t just join a contender — he’d join the most well-resourced machine in the sport and give it even more runway to stay vicious.
To be fair, October is still cruel, even to superteams. Health still matters. Randomness can still show up like a villain at the worst possible time. But if you’re talking about the process of building a perennial monster, this is how you do it: you get the best player alive, and then that best player helps subsidize the next wave of elite talent.
There’s no other Shohei Ohtani. And right now, it’s not just the Dodgers benefiting from his bat and arm.
