The White Sox didn’t make headlines with this trade because of upside. They made them because of context.
Aug 22, 2025; Bronx, New York, USA; Boston Red Sox pitcher Jordan Hicks (46) prior to the game against the New York Yankees at Yankee Stadium. Mandatory Credit: Gregory Fisher-Imagn Images | Gregory Fisher-Imagn Images
Chicago acquired right-hander Jordan Hicks from Boston, along with prospect David Sandlin and eight million dollars attached.
That last detail matters more than it seems.
This was a salary dump. Boston wasn’t negotiating value. They were negotiating relief.
Hicks arrives in Chicago with two years and sixteen million dollars remaining on his deal. Money the White Sox can absorb. Money Boston didn’t want to.
On paper, it’s a simple transaction. In reality, it’s a quiet bet on something that’s been fading.
Jordan Hicks once symbolized raw dominance. Upper-90s velocity. Sinking fastballs. Late-inning chaos for hitters.
That version of Hicks feels distant now.
After four-plus seasons in St. Louis, Hicks’ strong 2023 earned him a deadline move to Toronto and a lucrative free-agent deal.
San Francisco saw more than a reliever. They tried to make him a starter.
The experiment worked, briefly. Twenty starts. Nearly fifty appearances. A 4.10 ERA in 2024. Functional, but taxing.
By 2025, the cracks widened.
Hicks struggled early, lost consistency, and became part of the Rafael Devers deal that sent him to Boston.
The change didn’t help. Twenty-one bullpen appearances. Continued command issues. Diminishing results.
By winter, Boston’s decision was clear.
Chicago’s response was quieter.
The White Sox didn’t acquire Hicks because he solves a problem immediately. They acquired him because they can afford uncertainty.
At his best, Hicks still flashes elite traits. A fastball that can touch triple digits. Heavy sink. A sweeper that misses bats.
As a starter, his velocity dipped. His splitter usage climbed. Ground balls replaced strikeouts.
And with that shift came control issues that never fully stabilized.
That’s the question Chicago now has to answer.
Is Hicks a starter who never quite finished evolving? Or a reliever who was briefly miscast?
The White Sox need rotation stability. Hicks’ history doesn’t guarantee it.
A bullpen role makes more sense. Shorter stints. Velocity restored. Fewer decisions per outing.
But Chicago hasn’t committed publicly. Not yet.
Alongside Hicks comes David Sandlin, a quieter but arguably more interesting piece.
Sandlin finished 2025 as Boston’s eighth-ranked prospect. Twenty-five years old soon. Starter profile. Developmental runway.
The White Sox see him as a rotation option. Likely starting in Triple-A. Possibly debuting later in 2026.
That belief shaped the deal.
Chicago sent Gage Ziehl, a modest prospect acquired in a previous deadline move, plus a player to be named later.
In effect, they turned Austin Slater into Hicks and Sandlin, with money attached.
It’s not flashy. It’s strategic.
Rival teams see this as Chicago buying flexibility. Payroll space converted into a chance.
For Boston, the math was simpler. Move the contract. Reset the ledger. Accept the loss.
For Chicago, the risk is controlled.
If Hicks rebounds, they gain a high-leverage arm. If he doesn’t, the cost doesn’t cripple future plans.
Still, the move doesn’t solve the White Sox’s biggest issue.
They remain short on reliable veteran starters. Hicks doesn’t guarantee innings. Sandlin doesn’t guarantee readiness.
This trade adds options, not answers.
Which makes the deal fascinating not for what it promises — but for what it avoids promising.
The White Sox didn’t say Hicks is fixed. They didn’t say he’s starting. They didn’t say he’s closing.
They simply took him.
And sometimes, the most revealing part of a trade isn’t the player acquired — it’s the problem another team was willing to pay to walk away from.
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