Spring training is supposed to be about fresh starts.
Instead, in Cleveland, it’s beginning with absence—and unanswered questions.
As Guardians pitchers and catchers prepare to report to Goodyear, Arizona, two names are conspicuously missing.
Emmanuel Clase and Luis Ortiz will not be allowed to report to spring training, a decision confirmed by Major League Baseball with no timeline attached and no public resolution in sight.
On paper, it’s procedural. In reality, it feels heavier.
Both pitchers remain on MLB’s restricted list following federal indictments handed down in November, tied to allegations of gambling-related activity involving fixed pitches.
The charges are serious, carrying potential prison sentences and the possibility—however distant—of lifetime bans from the sport.
But what’s unsettling isn’t just the accusations. It’s the stillness.
MLB has not announced disciplinary action. The Guardians have not been given clarity. And the calendar keeps moving.
For Clase, the situation is especially delicate. He is still under a guaranteed contract, with $6.4 million remaining.
Players do not receive pay during spring training, but whether Cleveland will ultimately be required to pay the rest of that deal remains undecided. For now, the money—and the player—are both in limbo.
Ortiz, meanwhile, is unsigned for 2026, leaving his future even murkier.
Last season, the league placed both pitchers on non-disciplinary leave from July through the end of the year, requiring the Guardians to continue paying their salaries under the MLB–MLBPA agreement.
That designation mattered. It implied patience. Process. Due diligence.
This week’s decision feels different.
Being barred from reporting to spring training is not a suspension—but it’s not neutral either. It keeps both pitchers away from teammates, coaches, and routine. It freezes development. It isolates.
And perhaps most importantly, it signals that whatever happens next will not be rushed.
For Cleveland, the timing is brutal. Clase has been one of the most dominant closers in baseball, a pillar of the Guardians’ bullpen and a central figure in their recent success. Losing him—even temporarily—reshapes the roster. Losing clarity reshapes planning.
Internally, the organization is stuck managing around a question it cannot answer: should they plan as if these pitchers are gone, or merely delayed?
The broader implications stretch beyond Cleveland.
MLB has spent years publicly distancing itself from gambling scandals, especially those involving on-field manipulation. The league’s response here—measured, quiet, procedural—suggests extreme caution. But caution also creates space for speculation.
Why no timeline?
Why no public guidance?
Why now?
Clase and Ortiz are scheduled to go to trial on May 4 in the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York. Until then, everything remains unresolved—legally, professionally, and emotionally.
What’s clear is that this isn’t just about spring training access. It’s about how baseball handles uncertainty when the stakes are existential.
For now, the Guardians move forward without two arms they once counted on. And as camps open across Arizona and Florida, one question lingers in Cleveland:
Is this a temporary pause—or the beginning of something the league doesn’t want to name yet?
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