On Friday night at Kauffman Stadium, nine days removed from the most recent time he put on a baseball uniform, Whit Merrifield was set to walk into the same clubhouse he’s known for the past seven years. He was to settle in front of the same corner locker and sit on the same black rolling chair.
But while many of his surroundings will offer familiarity, much has changed — with the expectation of more change yet on the horizon.
Could this be Merrifield’s final homestand as a Kansas City Royal? Absolutely, it could. I’d even frame that as more likely than not. More necessary than not.
The stimulus here is not simply Merrifield’s unwillingness to take a vaccine, but rather the strained words that followed in what was intended to be an explanation.
It fell far short of that.
Merrifield is one of 10 Royals players who rejected the COVID-19 vaccination requirement to enter Canada and participate in a series in Toronto last weekend. All deserve the scrutiny that ensued, but Merrifield separated himself from the other nine with a stunning admission:
Trade me, and I just might reconsider.
His vaccination stance, he explained, “might change down the road — something happens and I happen to get on a team that has a chance to go play in Canada in the postseason (and) maybe that changes.”
In case you missed the essence of that: Merrifield will go one step further to be on the field for a contending team than he would to be on the field for the organization that currently signs his paychecks. The argument in this column is not that Merrifield owes the Royals anything more after his dozen years in the organization — but doesn’t he at least owe them the same he’s willing to provide, um, team-to-be-determined?
What we should have read into that remark is that Merrifield is not only willing to accept a trade but eager to seek one — he’ll go against his principles to embrace one, in fact, if you can call shunning a needle a principle. He’s not dumb — there’s a reason he elected to broadcast that stance to the rest of the baseball world.
This might be a problem in the Kansas City clubhouse, but it won’t be a problem in yours.
It’s certainly worth noting that he apologized for that comment, both publicly on a local radio program on 610 Sports and privately to Royals general manager J.J. Picollo and president of baseball operations Dayton Moore. It did not come out the way he intended it, he said.
But he did not walk back the gist of the comment that irked Royals management most, because that part remains true, and he still would like the rest of the league to know it — he is still willing to reconsider his vaccination stance if he’s playing for a contender. To be clear, that would include the Royals, if they were in contention, but we all know the Royals are not.
During his radio appearance, Merrifield seemed intent on making it clear he still loves Kansas City.
I believe him. I don’t think Merrifield hates Kansas City. Never did. I don’t think he hates the Royals organization. I don’t think he hates management, his teammates, nor the fans. His actions over the past seven years back him up there.
I think Merrifield hates losing. I think he’s tired of losing. I think he hates the possibility that by the time the Royals are done losing, his best years will be behind him. The patience, to put it more simply, has run out.
That piece is understandable, actually. But once the exhaustion reaches a point that he is only willing to take every step possible to be available after checking the standings, a separation must follow. That’s not all-in. It’s looking for the best out.
He has one now.
And so do the Royals.
For years, they have weighed the possibility of trading Merrifield — one of their most consistent hitters — but a combination of underwhelming offers and the desire to preserve a couple of veteran leaders spoke loudest. The Royals have long believed they owed the fans a reason to show up to the ballpark, a stance we can debate another day.
