A year ago, the Seattle Mariners looked at the rankings with a familiar feeling: good enough not to be considered a failure, but never consistent enough to inspire complete confidence. 85 wins in 2024 wasn’t bad. But the way they achieved it exposed a deeper problem—an offense that could disappear at any moment.
The team’s overall OPS was .687, ranking 22nd in MLB. Luke Raley was their most consistent hitter, and that said it all. When Edgar MartÃnez returned to hitting coach, the story wasn’t about technical adjustments, but about an identity crisis. The Mariners hit well in bursts, then faded away. Feast-or-famine became a habit.
Then 2025 arrived. The “Marine layer” was still there. The Seattle climate hadn’t changed. But the people had.
OPS jumped to .740, top 10 in MLB. Cal Raleigh exploded onto the scene with 169 OPS+. The offense finally had real substance. But in that light, a quiet worry lingered: would this be a sustainable version, or just another peak before things reverted to their old cycle?
That’s when Brendan Donovan appeared — not flashy, not flamboyant.
In his four MLB years, Donovan’s OPS+ never dropped below 114. His slash line was consistently similar each season, almost… boring: .282/.361/.411 career-to-date. He didn’t have the fiery Augusts of Julio RodrÃguez, nor the court-shaking spikes of Cal Raleigh. But Donovan didn’t disappear.
And that’s precisely what the Mariners lacked for years.
Seattle had too many players that kept fans waiting. Waiting for Julio to hit his stride. Waiting for Arozarena to rediscover his rhythm. Waiting for VÃctor Robles to recreate his magic. A lineup that thrives on highs can also die from highs. Donovan doesn’t promise peak performance, but he lifts the stage—consistently, every day.
For the Mariners, this isn’t a trade to “supercharge” the offense. It’s a philosophical puzzle. Along with Josh Naylor, Rob Refsnyder, and small additions in bullpen like Jose A. Ferrer, Seattle is doing something many teams have overlooked: building a team holistically, not just focusing on headlines.
While the Dodgers, Yankees, and Blue Jays are willing to bet hundreds of millions on a single name, the Mariners—with payroll limitations—choose to diversify their risk. No all-in. No miracles. Just a stack of “good enough” decisions.
That might not be appealing on social media. It doesn’t sell dreams instantly. But in a 162-game season, consistency is what survives the longest.
Donovan represents a pick that’s hard to love at first glance. But he also represents a maturation in Seattle’s roster thinking. No more chasing impulses. No more hoping one explosive month will cover up four quiet months.
The Mariners 2026 don’t promise to be the best team in MLB. But they’re building to be a team that’s easily “silenced.” And when a team chooses balance over flashiness, the question isn’t whether they have enough stars—but whether this approach has the patience to wait for results?
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