Tanner Scott didnât arrive at DodgersFest looking f
There was no deflection, no soft framing, no attempt to repackage a difficult season as something it wasnât.
When he spoke, the tone was calm but direct â the kind of honesty that lands harder than excuses ever could.

Last season, by his own standards, wasnât good enough.
Scott didnât point to bad luck or circumstances beyond his control. He pointed inward. Too many pitches over the heart of the plate.
Too much predictability. Too many moments where he backed away from the very weapons that had defined his success in earl

In a bullpen built on margin and precision, those mistakes compound quickly.
What made Scottâs reflection stand out wasnât just the self-awareness â it was the absence of panic. He didnât describe a pitcher searching for answers in the dark.
He described someone who knew exactly when he drifted away from himself.
Over the course of the 2025 season, Scott admitted he tried to change too much. Adjustments piled on top of adjustments.

Instead of trusting what had worked in 2023 and 2024, he chased refinement, trying to be sharper, cleaner, more perfect.
The result was the opposite.
By the time the season wore on, frustration followed him to the mound. Counts stretched. Contact came when it shouldnât have. Confidence thinned.
Then came the injured list.

At the time, it felt like another setback. In hindsight, Scott described it differently. Being forced to step away â to watch instead of pitch â created space. Distance. Perspective.
For the first time in months, he wasnât reacting. He was evaluating.
From the dugout, patterns became clearer. The overthinking. The hesitation. The moments where conviction mattered more than execution. That stretch, he said, reset him mentally in a way the grind of the season never allowed.

It was a pause he didnât choose â but one he needed.
Now, heading toward 2026, Scottâs message is simple: get back to being himself.
Not reinvented. Not over-engineered. Just honest pitching built on trust in his strengths. Attack hitters. Finish counts. Lean into the pitches that made him effective in the first place.
Thereâs confidence in that simplicity.

And thereâs comfort in the environment supporting it.
Scott spoke glowingly about the Dodgersâ clubhouse culture â not in a rehearsed way, but with conviction.
An organization that demands excellence without losing sight of the people involved. A coaching staff that emphasizes accountability without eroding belief.
That balance matters when confidence needs rebuilding.
He also acknowledged the reality of the bullpen around him. This group is deep. Talented. Competitive. Scott didnât shy away from that. He embraced it.
Called it âstacked.â Welcomed the internal pressure that comes with being surrounded by capable arms.
Rather than seeing it as a threat, he framed it as fuel.
Spring Training is approaching, and Scott isnât pretending last year didnât happen. Heâs using it. Treating 2025 not as a warning sign, but as an outlier â a deviation from the pitcher he knows he can be.
That belief doesnât come from words alone. It comes from clarity. From stripping things back. From understanding that sometimes progress isnât about adding more, but about letting go.
For a reliever, confidence is fragile â but when it returns, it can change everything quickly.
Scott isnât asking for patience. Heâs not promising dominance. Heâs promising honesty, commitment, and trust in the version of himself thatâs already proven capable.
And in a bullpen built to win now, that quiet reset might be exactly what 2026 demands.
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