Dear Mike Elias: A brand new season and manager means real fresh hope – and nowhere to hide anymore

Dear Mike:

This is the part of Baltimore baseball I still love best – the clean page, the fresh grass, the pigeons circling over the shadows at Camden Yards on Opening Day and the lie we all try to tell ourselves:

This is our year!

And maybe it will be? That’s why we watch the games!

Zero and zero!

That’s the good news.

The bad news is that optimism in late March is the cheapest commodity in baseball, right behind split-squad box scores and executive messaging to Dean Kremer. You were hired in November 2018 to rebuild this franchise, and before the 2025 season you were quietly elevated from general manager to president of baseball operations.

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The new ownership didn’t just keep you; it empowered you. 

For the record, I’ve met you twice in eight years. You lied to me in Fort Myers two years ago when you told my press pass was coming after the sale and the exit of Fredo. But, I’ll give you credit, I never feel like you’re lying when you actually sit in your random little dugout chats or appear on a camera with your co-workers who answer to you.

Evasive, vague? Sure. But, you’re no Eric DeCosta or John Harbaugh just yet when it comes to brazen and consistent dishonesty so for that I’m grateful, I guess?

But firing your manager last May and hiding out in Milwaukee four days later?

I would’ve fired your ass on the spot, and said so and still do.

You wouldn’t be my baseball “leader” because, like the desperate criminal clown running our country, leadership comes from the front – not pulling up the rear.

Accountability isn’t optional or “at your pace” when you’re a leader of men.

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But, you’re not a chronic liar just yet, so I do still pay attention when your lips are moving because I care about the Baltimore Orioles. I certainly don’t think you’re incompetent.

And, somehow, through the ownership change and a last-place thud, you’re still in charge and responsible even if not fully accountable. I’m guessing that you’ll take plenty of credit if you ever win here and we should all hope to be so lucky after 43 years of mostly dogshit baseball.

So here we are, Mike. Opening Day 2026. No more rebuild language. No more “still evaluating.” No more hiding behind the rubble of the Angelos era as if it just happened last week instead of two years ago.

At some point, the record belongs to you.

And last year’s record was 75-87, dead last in the American League East. You fired Brandon Hyde when the club fell to 15-29, and at that moment the Orioles had an AL-worst ERA north of 5.40. Hyde wore that one publicly, but anybody with a scorecard and a pulse knew the problem was bigger than the man in the dugout. 

That’s the part that has always bothered me about your glide path here. You’ve been brilliant enough to get the credit for the pipeline, disciplined enough to earn the respect of the spreadsheet crowd, and insulated enough to let everyone else absorb a lot of the civic anger when the actual product failed.

In Baltimore, that’s called skating.

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And you most certainly “skated” last year because a real baseball ownership group with real tentacles into the sport would’ve fired you.

I know because Jason LaCanfora told the people on The Fan and it got him fired in the corporate media jungle of Audacy cowards.

It’s not because you built nothing. You built a lot. Gunnar Henderson is a real star. Jackson Holliday still looks like a kid who can become a fixture here. Adley Rutschman still has time to reclaim the force-of-nature status this town assigned him two years ago. Trevor Rogers turned himself into an Opening Day starter and story nobody saw coming. There is talent here. There is upside here. There is, against my better judgment and decades of scar tissue, still reason to believe here. 

But last place is last place, and the numbers from 2025 don’t lie just because the organization got younger, shinier or more heavy with the bats and a few decent starters emerging and invested in over the winter. FanGraphs had the Orioles’ 2025 offense ranked 24th in batting average, 24th in on-base percentage and 24th in runs scored. The bullpen ranked 25th in ERA, 28th in WHIP and 28th in walks per nine. Defensively, Baltimore ranked 23rd in defense and OAA, and 24th in DRS and fielding run value. That is not a blip. That is not bad luck. That is a team that couldn’t consistently pitch clean innings or catch the baseball at a championship level. 

It was a last place team that felt that way most of the time.

So yes, Mike, I see what you did this winter. And for once, I’ll say this very plainly: good job.

Pete Alonso at five years and $155 million is a grown-up move by a more grown-up franchise. Ryan Helsley at two years and $28 million is at least an acknowledgment that games do, in fact, have ninth innings and King Felix isn’t coming through the bullpen gate. Chris Bassitt on a stout and late, one-year deal adds durability. Zach Eflin coming back matters so much that it got Kremer a minor-league demotion. Taylor Ward gives you a real bat in the outfield. Shane Baz is the sort of upside potential that can change a season if it hits and he truly blossoms after the injuries a few years ago.

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Most experts – including this one – believes you’re a real playoff contender and a threat in American League.

I’m betting the “over” and that deserves to be said.

It also deserves the follow-up: why did it take a last-place finish for you to finally act like the Baltimore Orioles should shop at the front of the store?

That is the real question beyond the probably rightful blame on Fredo and the Angelos clan. Or even the praise and deeper pocketbook of Rubenstein and Arougheti.

Because the part of this town that gets underplayed by every consultant, every owner, every polished front-office voice is this: Orioles fans know the difference between really trying and pretending to try. We’ve lived it all through the Angelos era. Fans here can smell a half-measure like bad crab in August. Last winter felt passive by all accounts and the ghosts of Charlie Morton and Kyle Gibson. This winter certainly felt a little more urgent, and certainly better funded. I suppose that contrast is your indictment, but it will be your savior if this team wins 95 games and shows up in October with more than bats locked on shoulders and more 3-and-outs getting beaten by better playoff pitching.

And since the corporate goofs over at the “FM flagship” took their JLC spice out of the stew, let’s not pretend you still haven’t been hearing it. LaCanfora has spent the better part of the last two years on social media asking whether some of the ugliest Orioles losses were stamped with your fingerprints, wondering if you’re really the guy to dig this thing out, and describing the operation as over-matched, rudderless and too often short on answers. And, that’s not all just internet exhaust. Some of that anger is shared by a city that watched you build the runway, then briefly forget the airplanes needed to land. 

The entire roster underachieved last summer and here we are buying full faith six months later.

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And here come Pete Alonso and Tyler Ward (by the way, that deal certainly feels better every day that Grayson Rodriguez can’t make it to the bump) and even that late Chris Bassitt money truly feels like the dawning of a new day of Orioles baseball in Baltimore.

One where the owners actually spend money and take a chance to make the team better.

Now, for my part, I’m honestly not all the way there.

Not on Opening Day. Not with Gunnar in his prime years beginning to matter. Not with Alonso planted in the middle of the order. Not with Trevor Rogers getting this first ball after going 9-3 with a 1.81 ERA in 18 starts last season. Not with a projected rotation that now includes Rogers, Kyle Bradish, Baz, Bassitt and a seemingly rejuvenated Eflin.

You’ve assembled a talented starting rotation and for that, I believe as much as I can.

But I’m also not here for the velvet-rope version of truth.

The bullpen still scares me. It scares everyone around here but the rest of Major League Baseball.

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I’m even comfortable with the bullpen having rotating pieces for the first few weeks, but let’s not pretend there aren’t a lot of question marks the second that Craig Albernaz heads to the hill around 8:15 p.m. every night and asks for the ball and that bullpen door swings open.

Your bullpen is a crap shoot and that often doesn’t end well. On any given night but certainly across the body of work when you know most nights your starters won’t be given a chance to get through the sixth inning.

Bautista is on the 60-day IL and isn’t expected back until September 2026 or later. Helsley might bounce back. Kittredge can help whenever he gets healthy. Keegan Akin will have his place whenever he returns. Tyler Wells may stabilize something. But if you watched last season with your eyes instead of your elevated title, you know this isn’t a minor footnote. Bullpens break seasons in this division; they are the truth serum. 

And the defense? Same thing. I fully expect you to kick the ball around and lose games (and frustrate pitchers and fans) because of it.

You fired your manager 11 months ago because most of these same guys weren’t doing the little things right with the glove (or the bats) and now you’re sending Coby Mayo to third base. The 2025 numbers say the Orioles were a bottom-third defensive club by just about every meaningful public measure. That is not how serious October teams live.

If new skipper Albernaz is going to change the culture, one of the first signs ought to be that the baseball stops looking sloppy. 

So here are the Opening Day questions, Mike:

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Can this team catch it well enough to support the pitching you assembled?

Can this bullpen protect leads against the Yankees, Blue Jays and Red Sox without turning every seventh inning into a civic blood-pressure test?

Can Adley look like Adley again?

Can a healthy Holliday become substance instead of projection?

When is Jordan Westburg returning and how will that impact that whole thing if Mayo hits?

Will Samuel Basillo be the next big superstar bat in your lineup? (This would make you look very smart after that $78 million early investment.)

Can Alonso’s arrival be more than a press conference and actually become the thunder that changes how opponents walk through Camden Yards?

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And maybe most of all: can you, finally, wear the full burden of the baseball decisions without letting the manager, the injuries, the old ownership, the ghosts of 2025 or the mealy-mouthed, Baghdad Bob public-relations department absorb the hardest blows for you?

Because that’s what leadership is.

Not the smile on the dais.

Not the welcome quote.

Not the carefully worded November explanation about pursuing urgency.

Leadership is standing in the wreckage when your plan fails and saying: that part was mine! Last year was certainly “yours” to have and keep.

(Again, I would’ve fired your ass the day after the Preakness when you fired your manager and went AWOL. Really. No negotiation; none necessary. That was some super weak shit, Mike! Disgraceful, and always will be.)

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Leadership, now mostly the responsibility of Albernaz once the season starts and the games start to crunch and bunch up, is building a team that throws strikes, catches the baseball, protects leads and looks prepared in the games that matter. Leadership is understanding that if you want the applause for 101 wins and Executive of the Year flowers, you also get the side-eye, the heat and the pointed letters when the whole thing finishes in last place and the city is asked to trust you again, anyway. 

I do trust some of this, Mike.

I trust Henderson’s talent.

I trust Alonso’s bat.

I trust that Rogers earned the ball on Opening Day.

I trust that Albernaz can be a top-of-class manager and baseball man.

I trust that this roster looks more serious than the one that limped through last year. 

But, trust is not surrender.

This city has been conned too many times by baseball men with plans, slogans, timelines and a better explanation for tomorrow than they ever offered for yesterday.

So, enjoy Opening Day!

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All of us who love baseball will.

The place will look gorgeous with that big stadium and new TV and the one shining day when it actually fills up with fans to beat the Minnesota Twins and get off to a good start. I was in Toronto last Opening Day with Luke Jones. We were optimistic at least for the first few days…

Even the weather feels as optimistic as the hope that surrounds a very unusual season around here when I can say that I believe the Baltimore Orioles have a chance.

And for a few hours, and with a clean slate for a day, the old math won’t matter.

Not Peter’s mess.

Not Brandon’s firing.

Not the bullpen fairy.

Not some future general manager you may or may not eventually hire beneath your new title.

You.

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Because “hired by Angelos” was one chapter.

Kept by Rubenstein and Arougheti is another.

You’ll be truly be judged by what happens next – and we’ll all be watching.