At first glance, it looked routine.
A waiver claim. A familiar name. A quiet transaction tucked between spring training schedules and championship talk.
But the Dodgers’ decision to reclaim catcher Ben Rortvedt isn’t just about depth—it’s about control, caution, and a subtle shift in how Los Angeles is preparing for 2026.
The Dodgers aren’t chasing stars anymore. They already did that.
Kyle Tucker is in. Edwin DÃaz is locked down. The roster at the top is as expensive and star-studded as any team in modern baseball. What’s happening now is different. It’s quieter. More deliberate.
Rortvedt’s return fits that pattern perfectly.
He finished the 2025 season in Dodger blue, stayed on the postseason roster through the World Series, and earned trust in October while Will Smith played through a right-hand injury.
When the Dodgers designated him for assignment in November, the assumption was simple: he’d clear waivers.
He didn’t.
Cincinnati claimed him. Two months later, after signing Eugenio Suárez, the Reds let him go. This time, the Dodgers didn’t hesitate.
They brought him back.
On paper, Rortvedt becomes the third catcher on the 40-man roster. In reality, he becomes a safety net—one the Dodgers clearly value more now than they did in November.
That’s where the subtext lives.
Dalton Rushing is still the future. Everyone knows that. But the Dodgers aren’t willing to force the timeline, especially on a team chasing history.
A third straight World Series doesn’t allow for developmental experiments behind the plate—not when pitching depth, health, and in-game management matter more than upside.
Rortvedt offers familiarity. He knows the staff. He’s already handled high-leverage innings in October. He doesn’t need onboarding, and he doesn’t disrupt the clubhouse hierarchy.
That reliability has weight in a 162-game season.
The corresponding move tells another part of the story.
To make room, the Dodgers designated Anthony Banda for assignment—a reliever with a 3.14 ERA across 119 appearances over two seasons, and a member of the last two championship teams.
On most rosters, Banda doesn’t lose his spot.
On this roster, redundancy does.
Los Angeles has no shortage of left-handed bullpen options.
Tanner Scott. Jack Dreyer. DÃaz closing the door late. In that environment, Banda became expendable—not because of performance, but because of roster math.
And that’s the throughline.
This wasn’t about talent evaluation. It was about flexibility.
By reclaiming Rortvedt, the Dodgers gain optionality. If Rushing takes the leap, great. If not, they’re insulated. If Will Smith needs rest, coverage is already there.
If injuries hit, they won’t be scrambling in May.
Nothing about this move is flashy. That’s intentional.
The Dodgers are acting like a team that believes the hardest part is already done—and that the next championship will be decided on margins, not headlines.
Depth. Familiarity. Insurance.
Those words don’t trend on social media. But they win games in August and October.
So while the move barely registered outside Los Angeles, it says something clear inside the organization: the Dodgers aren’t reacting anymore.
They’re anticipating.
And when a team that already has everything starts planning for what might go wrong, it usually means they think they’re right where they want to be.
The question isn’t whether Ben Rortvedt will play a major role in 2026.
It’s why the Dodgers felt they couldn’t afford to lose him this time.
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