From 9‑Game Cushion to Chasing: Dodgers Sliding as Padres Heat Up—Tom Verducci Sounds the Alarm

Tom Verducci, watching the Dodgers’ slide, didn’t mince words: “There’s something that’s just not right with this team.” That’s not the kind of quote any manager, coach, or fan wants to hear. Yet here we are, with LA—once sitting pretty with a nine‑game advantage in the NL West—now scrambling from second place while the Padres surge up behind them. The clock is ticking, and the Dodgers can’t afford distractions or pauses; they need answers, and fast.

It’s wild to think how just six weeks ago, the Dodgers looked like they were pacing to set franchise records. Their payroll alone was record‑setting—north of $400 million—and expectations were sky‑high. But baseball has a funny way of humbling even the most gilded rosters. Since July 4, LA’s gone a miserable 12‑21. Meanwhile, San Diego—finally aggressive at the trade deadline—has gone 9‑3, and they’re seizing on every opportunity the Dodgers are slipping through their fingers.

Injuries have ravaged LA, particularly within the pitching staff. Big‑name signings like Blake Snell barely pitched before landing on the injured list; Roki Sasaki hasn’t thrown since early May. Fourteen players are sidelined—including key bullpen arms—making every game feel like a nightmare pinch. Meanwhile, Ohtani has still looked like a one‑man wrecking crew—hitting like a star and pitching like one when healthy—but he can’t carry the team alone. Guys like Mookie Betts and Michael Conforto just aren’t producing enough right now, and that gap between star power and supporting cast is yawning.

Tom Verducci’s alarm? It’s real. He commented that this isn’t just about getting healthy; “They’ve not played well this year.” That quiet qualifier says more than a might‑as‑well‑be candle in a blackout. The Dodgers are underperforming, and it isn’t just circumstance—it’s multiple layers of underperformance struggling to recover from complacency.

Meanwhile, the Padres executed with purpose at the trade deadline—bringing in game‑changing bullpen arms like Mason Miller—and they’re reaping the reward. Their bullpen is among the best in the majors, and they’ve carried that confidence into every inning. For a team that hasn’t taken the division since 2006—and never in the Wild Card era—a comeback like this isn’t just momentum; it’s historical.

Now heading into an ultra‑critical two‑series stretch—six games against each other in just over a week—the Dodgers are staring at their biggest reality check of the season. If they don’t find answers, all that spent cash, glittering logos, and preseason hype might feel more like a liability than a strength.

Dodgers manager Dave Roberts is trying to keep his team on task. He downplays expectations with phrases like “Now it’s a new season” and pushes for consistency: “play better baseball and find ways to win games.” But even his measured tone betrays a hint of desperation. When he looks at the standings and sees the Padres ahead, he knows that words aren’t enough.

Still, the Dodgers are capable. They’ve shown resilience before in 2024, weathering setbacks to still win the division. But this time feels different—or at least noisier. The bullpen’s collapse is glaring; their middling offense won’t carry through as October nears. The sense inside and outside the clubhouse? This time, fans aren’t just hoping—they’re edge‑of‑their‑seat watching.

In the end, it boils down to execution. No more redesigning the roster, no more hoping stars can mask the CRAP (cumulative rhythm and passion). This is baseball, where urgency, fundamentals, and timely contributions define October. And for a team built to dominate, the notion of clawing back from second place feels like a spit in the eye of their own promise.

Verducci’s alarm isn’t sensationalism—it’s a wake‑up call. For LA, the road to reasserting control runs through urgency, clarity, and a restart that has to start now. Because right now, the Padres are the ones with adrenaline, momentum, and something to prove. The Dodgers? They just need to stop sliding—and fast.