Red Sox Digest: Final Report Card (Part 1 — The Infield)
If you can field it, you can keep it.” — a policy Boston tried for most of 2025
We’re back in the registrar’s office to close the books on the infield that powered, pestered, and periodically petrified us all summer. Below is the Final—graded on a curve shaped like a roller coaster—paired with quick callbacks to your July 15 midterms.
Grade Key: Production (stats & impact), Availability (did you actually play baseball?), Defense (do routine things routinely), Vibes (tiebreaker: did you make us less or more insane?)
Triston Casas — 1B
Midterm: D+
Final: Incomplete (with consequences)
The syllabus said “30+ HR cornerstone.” The reality was a 29-game cameo and another year of rehab-core. The swing still looks like a marketing campaign, the walk rate still belongs in a think piece, but the most valuable ability is availability and… yeah. We can’t grade the book you never turned in—again.
Why it moved: It didn’t. And that’s the problem. Two straight seasons that never got out of the trainer’s room. Boston spent five months playing musical chairs at first base like it was a company picnic.
Exit Question: Are we building 2026 around Casas… or building around surviving without him?
Trevor Story — SS
Midterm: B+
Final: A-
No, he didn’t hit like Coors Story. He didn’t need to. He showed up—every day—played clean, rangy shortstop, stabilized the infield’s heartbeat, and offered just enough offense to keep pitchers honest. On a team that changed lineups like passwords, Story was the “same password across everything” guy.
Why it moved: Defense travels, leadership mattered, and the bat held serve. In a season of chaos, competence looked like stardom.
One-liner: Not flashy, just fundamentally adult. Boston needed that more than fireworks.
Alex Bregman — 3B
Midterm: A-
Final: B
First half: Professional at-bats, strike-zone command, doubles like clockwork, and a refusal to flinch in big spots. Missed time capped the ceiling, but when present, he was the infield’s metronome and the lineup’s brain.
Second half reality check: After that quad strain in June, the precision dulled. Before the injury, Bregman hit .299 with 11 HR, 35 RBI, and a .938 OPS in 51 games — vintage veteran polish that made him look like the one adult in a daycare lineup. Post-injury? The bat speed lagged, the gap shots turned into fly-outs, and over his final 63 games he hit .250 with 7 HR, 27 RBI, and a .724 OPS — including a rough .203 stretch down the stretch that had Fenway scoreboards sighing in sympathy.
Still, even limping, Bregman was the closest thing Boston had to a consistent heartbeat at third. His eye never went on the IL, his glove stayed crisp, and his plate approach remained clinic-worthy. But the production drop was undeniable, and the “metronome” started missing a few beats once August rolled around.
Why it changed: The Red Sox bought “grown-up baseball,” and he delivered that — just not the thunder version they hoped for post-All-Star break. Availability and power fade turned a potential A season into a solid B.
Department of Vibes: Still smirked like he knew something we didn’t. Turns out he did — how to win a plate appearance. He just didn’t win quite as many of them after July. At the end of the day, a good player, but not a $40M one.
Romy González — 2B/3B/1B/Everywhere
Midterm: B-
Final: B
Romy González came into the second half like a guy who heard the trade rumors and decided to respond with base hits instead of words. The spark that lit up the first half didn’t fade — if anything, it spread. He kept the bat lively, stayed fearless with runners on, and proved that his early success wasn’t a fluke, it was a blueprint.
Through September, González hit .291 with 12 HR, 47 RBI, 16 doubles, and a .784 OPS in 104 games — easily his best stretch as a big leaguer. He slugged .458 after the break, ranking among the team’s top three in extra-base hits during that span. And while he didn’t suddenly turn into a Gold Glove candidate, he became one of Boston’s most dependable right-handed bats — particularly in clutch spots where the rest of the lineup looked like they were swinging underwater.
Defensively? Still a theme park. Every night at a new ride. At second base, he was serviceable; at third, he occasionally moonlighted as a juggler; and at first base… let’s just say Fenway’s photographers got their money’s worth on reaction shots. He committed eight total errors, many of them from sheer over-aggression, but his versatility gave Alex Cora options — and that alone kept him in the lineup more than expected.
His approach at the plate matured, too. Fewer wild hacks, more zone discipline, and a knack for getting the barrel out front on elevated fastballs. When the lineup sagged in August, Romy was one of the only ones driving in runs. He went from “pleasant surprise” to “quiet stabilizer” — the rare role player who actually raised the floor instead of reminding us where it was.
Why it bumped: It didn’t crater. Utility bats often fade into irrelevance once pitchers adjust. Romy didn’t. He adjusted right back, proving he’s more than a hot streak — he’s a real piece of a winning roster.
Prescription: Pick a primary position this winter and let the feet catch up to the hands. The bat has earned its place. The glove just needs to stop taking the scenic route.
Marcelo Mayer — SS/3B (Rookie Track)
Midterm: C+
Final: D
The first half was “promising but raw.” The second half? Just raw and rehabbing.
Marcelo Mayer’s rookie campaign started with cautious optimism — flashes of the smooth lefty swing we were promised, the easy glove work, the poise that made him a top-10 pick. For a while, it looked like Boston might finally have a homegrown shortstop who could stick. But by late August, Mayer’s season had been sliced short by a wrist injury that cost him the final six weeks — a cruel twist for a 22-year-old trying to find footing in the big leagues.
The line tells the story: .228/.272/.402 with 4 homers, 10 RBI, and a .674 OPS across 44 games. The pop was real — he racked up 13 extra-base hits (8 doubles, a triple, and those 4 homers) — but the plate discipline vanished against major league arms. Forty-one strikeouts in 136 plate appearances gave him a K-rate north of 30%, and his on-base skills were closer to “batting practice pitcher” than “franchise cornerstone.”
Defensively, the glove mostly held up — .976 fielding percentage, solid range metrics, and plenty of confidence on routine plays. But there were the rookie lapses too: double-clutches, off-balance throws, and those “let’s forget how many outs there are” moments that are as common to young infielders as bad Fenway weather in April. Still, he looked more natural than most rookies Boston’s trotted out over the last decade — and the instincts flashed enough to believe the glove’s for real.
The problem? The body didn’t hold up. This was the second straight year with injury interruptions (wrist in 2025, oblique in 2024), and at some point, “growing pains” start to sound more like “availability issues.” You can’t develop if you’re not on the field.
Why it dropped: Tangible growth in baseball IQ was overshadowed by a disappointing stat line and another premature exit. You don’t flunk a rookie for struggling — you flunk him for not finishing the class.
2026 Tease: The tools are still undeniable — silky hands, smooth bat, clean internal clock — but he’s got to stay healthy long enough to show what he actually is. Another season like this, and we’ll be saying “promising” with air quotes.
Abraham Toro — 1B/3B
Midterm: B
Final: D+
“Unspectacularly useful” was the midterm tagline. By October, it’s more like “spectacularly replaceable.”
Toro’s first half was quietly solid — contact bat, steady glove, and a knack for not embarrassing himself in a lineup that specialized in it. But once Nathaniel Lowe arrived, the illusion of “reliability” evaporated like spilled beer on the Monster Seats. Toro went from everyday duct tape to “Do we even need this roll anymore?” in the span of two weeks.
In 77 games, Toro hit .239/.289/.371 with 7 homers, 27 RBI, and a .659 OPS — numbers that translate to “fringe utility guy” more than “stabilizer.” His OPS+ of 83 says it all: about 17% below league average, in a year where Boston desperately needed above-average anything.
Defensively, he remained serviceable — .982 fielding percentage split between first and third — but even that couldn’t save him when the lineup needed pop and the bench needed versatility. Once Lowe was acquired, Toro’s at-bats disappeared, and by mid-September, so did he. DFA’d without ceremony, another casualty of Boston’s endless roster reshuffle.
Why it dropped: The production flatlined, the bat vanished, and when the dust settled, Toro’s main contribution was being the guy who warmed the seat for someone better. He didn’t implode — he just quietly stopped mattering.
Front Office Note: If your roster has three Toros, you sleep better. If your roster still has this Toro after September, you’re ignoring the smoke alarm.
Nathaniel Lowe — 1B / DH
Midterm: (N/A — joined midseason)
Final: C
If the Red Sox were auditioning for “First Base: Redemption Arc,” Lowe walked in halfway through the movie. But the plot twist? He didn’t exactly save the franchise — just stabilized it slightly.
Washington chapter (pre-Boston)
Before Boston picked him up, Lowe was flailing in D.C. He slashed .216/.292/.373 with 16 HR, 68 RBI over 119 games in Washington. That line represented career-lows in average, OBP, slugging, and wRC+ (about 86). He struck out 130 times in 440 at-bats. The Nationals cut bait.
So he came to Boston with more expectations than faith.
Boston chapter (post-acquisition)
Then Boston called, and suddenly Lowe rediscovered some life. In 34 games at Fenway, he hit .280/.370/.420 with 2 homers and 16 RBI, posting an OPS of .790. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was legitimate stability at a position Boston had been filling with duct tape and hope. He sprayed doubles, worked good at-bats, and didn’t look out of place against AL East pitching — which is more than can be said for most of the 2025 Red Sox infield.
Over the full 2025 season (Washington + Boston), his line was .228 AVG, 18 HR, 84 RBI, OPS around .688 in ~540 ABs. One Statcast note: 2025 he had an average exit velocity of 90.5 mph, Hard Hit % = 44.2%, barrel % = 6.8%. Those aren’t elite marks, but they show he still made solid contact on plenty of swings.
In the Report Card Format
He came in as the “answer” to first base chaos. He’s a name, a veteran, a brute force bat in theory. But he was still rusty, inconsistent, and not fully back to form.
He gave Boston some power stability where the lineup desperately needed it.
But he never recaptured his best form. The Washington slump wasn’t a fluke—it carried over.
The defense was adequate for 1B/DH duty, but that’s the baseline, not a bonus.
The biggest knock: availability and the timing of his streaks never lined up with Boston needing him most.
Why C works: He’s not a disaster. He’s not a savior. He’s a midseason glue application on a cracked vessel. Sometimes it holds, sometimes it peels. For a guy with his pedigree, this level is “serviceable, but worrisome trend.”
Underlines: If Lowe can reset over winter — revisit approach, refine strikeout profile, stay healthy — he’s a candidate for B-minus. But the 2025 chapter reads like a cautionary tale.
Nick Sogard — INF (Break Glass)
Midterm: C
Final: C
Assignment: “Don’t set anything on fire.” Result: Things, broadly, did not burn. Sogard’s value is that you noticed him least when he was doing his job best. That’s a compliment for a depth infielder and a cry for help for the organizational pipeline.
Why it stayed: Replacement-level is exactly what he replaced.
Reality Check: If he’s in your Opening Day lineup, something went sideways.
Nate Eaton — 2B/3B/OF (Energy Drink)
Midterm: D-
Final: D
The hustle is real; the major-league execution remains a rumor. A few late-season at-bats teased competence, then pitchers pressed the “exploit” button like it was a doorbell. Glove never settled. Heart gets an A. Big-league consistency… does not.
Why it inched up (barely): Effort never dipped. That counts, even if the scoreboard doesn’t notice.
Verdict: Spring invite? Sure. Roster spot? Not without injuries.
Carlos Narváez — C (Catchers Count Here)
Midterm: A
Final: B+
Nothing about the defensive package felt like a mirage. Framing stayed tight, blocks were clean, throws playable, and the game-calling cred only grew as arms looked calmer with him. The bat cooled from “storybook” to “practical,” which for a first-year full workload at catcher is basically a parade.
But—past the midway point—some wear and tear (or rookie fatigue) is visible.
Statistical snapshot & second-half fade
Full season: .241 AVG, 15 HR, 50 RBI, OPS ~ .726 (per ESPN)
Advanced metrics: average exit velocity ~92 mph; Hard Hit % ~45.7%
Early season (pre-All Star): He slashed .273 AVG / .786 OPS before the break.
Post All-Star stretch: just .150 AVG / .500 OPS across 23 games after the break — a dramatic drop.
In other words: the offensive output that turned heads early on didn’t sustain. As the innings piled up, his bat suffered. The workload for a catcher is brutal—and in a rookie year, it bites.
Defensively, there’s no real blemish to harp on. He led MLB in assists for catchers, threw out a healthy number of base stealers, and remained one of Boston’s most stabilizing two-way options behind the plate.
Why B+ is earned (despite the fade)
He delivered top-tier defense all season. That’s not trivial for a 26-year-old rookie in one of the game’s hardest positions.
He generated an offense in the first half that was better than “rookie fluke”—that’s earned trust.
The drop-off is real. But the baseline is high enough that the descent doesn’t flatten the season.
In a year where catching was a graveyard, Narváez wound up being Boston’s anchor.
Why it didn’t stay an A: Because that late slump is a red flag. You don’t want your primary catcher’s barrel rate and AVG evaporating after midsummer. Durability, stamina, consistency: these are the next leg of the test.
Bigger Picture: Boston didn’t “solve” catcher fully, but they stumbled onto a damn good one. He needs to recharge, level up his second-half resilience, and learn to pace himself over 140+ games. If he does, that B+ might look like an A next year.
Connor Wong — C
Midterm: F
Final: D-
We grade improvement, and there was a whisper of it—better swing decisions in spot duty, fewer “guess-and-pray” plate appearances. But the total package still screamed “third catcher.” Behind Narváez, he felt like a spare tire you forget you have until the dash light comes on.
Why it nudged up: A late stretch of playable ABs and steadier receiving. Emphasis on late and stretch.
Roster Math: If a bat-first bench piece doesn’t hit, and a glove-first catcher isn’t glove-elite… what are we doing?
Kristian Campbell — Everywhere-and-Nowhere
Midterm: D
Final: F
The Red Sox bet $60 million on a feel-good developmental story. What they got was a crash course in how quickly “next big thing” can turn into “next bus to Worcester.”
The year started like a Disney montage. Campbell hit .301/.407/.495 in April with 4 homers and 12 RBI, spraying line drives and walking like a ten-year veteran. The Fenway crowd fell hard. Rookie of the Month talk. Smart at-bats. Energy. Swagger. And then—poof. Everything vanished faster than a Fenway beer vendor in the eighth inning.
From May 1 through mid-June, Campbell cratered to .154/.236/.215, good for a .451 OPS and enough strikeouts to fill the Green Monster scoreboard twice. His defense, meanwhile, went from “rough around the edges” to “National Lampoon’s Vacation.” He booted routine plays, air-mailed throws, and posted some of the worst defensive metrics among AL infielders before getting mercifully optioned on June 19.
In Triple-A Worcester, to his credit, the swing came back to life. He hit roughly .290 with a .370 OBP and 11 homers across 60 games — signs that the bat still works when the lights are dimmer. But that made Boston’s decision even more damning: despite losing offensive firepower down the stretch, they never called him back up. When your $60 million investment is stuck in the minors while your MLB lineup features Nick Sogard and a prayer, that’s not “development.” That’s a write-off.
The defense remains unplayable. The bat, while promising in spurts, can’t offset the glove or the mental lapses. And the front office’s silence spoke volumes — if they had faith, he’d have been back before Labor Day. He wasn’t.
Why the F: Because it’s not about talent anymore. It’s about trajectory. He went from Opening Day starter to forgotten man by August, and a contract that once looked bold now looks bloated. Finding your swing in Worcester doesn’t mean much if the big club doesn’t trust you to use it in Boston.
2026 Goal: Pick a position, learn to defend it, and remind the front office why they wrote that check. Otherwise, that $60 million might end up buying a very nice Triple-A stadium renovation.
David Hamilton — 2B / SS / Utility Infielder
Midterm: D+
Final: D
David Hamilton fooled people again — just for a shorter amount of time this go-round. The promise of speed, spark, and slick defense once had fans thinking Boston found their scrappy diamond-in-the-rough middle infielder. Instead, they got a guy who hit like a pitcher and fielded like a shortstop in fast-forward.
The numbers tell the story: .198 average, 6 home runs, 19 RBI, and a .590 OPS across 177 big-league at-bats. There were flashes — a few clutch base hits, some electric stolen bases, and the occasional laser throw that made you remember why the team liked him in the first place. But most nights? He was a strikeout waiting to happen. His contact quality cratered, and pitchers knew they could get him to chase anything spinning off-speed.
Defensively, Hamilton remained fast and agile but erratic. The glove looks great when he’s ranging to his left — and terrifying when he has to throw on the run. His internal clock hasn’t caught up to big-league tempo, and that led to sloppy errors and double plays that never got doubled. He’s athletic, but that only takes you so far when the baseball IQ moments keep betraying you.
Boston finally sent him back to Worcester midseason, hoping he could regroup. And to his credit, he did put up .280-plus numbers in Triple-A with better contact and plate discipline.
The irony is that Hamilton still runs like the wind, fields like a blur, and has some of the best pure athleticism on the roster. But when your OBP starts with a five and your strikeout rate starts looking like a pitcher’s ERA, the dream fades fast.
Why the D: Because he didn’t move the needle. The same issues that plagued him in 2024 — pitch recognition, consistency, throwing accuracy — showed up again. The Worcester stint may have helped his confidence, but it didn’t save his season.
Verdict: Hamilton’s still young enough to reboot, but the window is closing. You can’t steal first base, and you can’t make the roster if you’re only a threat once you’re on it.
Ali Sánchez — C / Backup / Professional Seat Filler
Midterm: N/A
Final: F
Twelve games, two uniforms, and about as much impact as a paper cup in the dugout. That’s the Ali Sánchez experience in 2025.
Across 12 games split between Toronto and Boston, Sánchez logged 23 plate appearances and hit .217/.217/.304 with 2 doubles, 0 home runs, 0 RBI, and a .522 OPS. For context: that OPS is nearly 200 points below the league average and right around the point where your teammates start asking if you’ve been swinging blindfolded.
His Boston “career” was basically four plate appearances, two at-bats, one walk, and one lonely single. That’s not a sample size — that’s a trivia question.
Defensively, he did what he’s always done: existed behind the plate. No disasters, but nothing resembling an asset. He caught the ball, returned it to the pitcher, and blocked a few in the dirt. You could’ve put a pitching machine behind the dish and gotten roughly the same performance.
Why the F: Because backup catchers don’t have to hit much, but they have to do something. Sánchez’s stat line reads like someone accidentally left him in the lineup card. The lack of power, the absence of RBI, and the fact that two organizations both shrugged and moved on midseason says everything.
Verdict: If you blinked, you missed the Ali Sánchez era in Boston. Twelve games, zero impact, and the kind of resume line that only gets remembered when you’re reading the fine print on Baseball Reference.
The Infield, In Sum
Best Thing: Professional adults at short and third (Story/Bregman), plus Narváez catching like he’s done this for a decade.
Most Needed: First base stability. If Casas is a plan, he cannot be the entire plan.
Quiet Hero: Toro’s competence saved countless bullpen bullets.
Real Progress: Mayer looked more inevitable by season’s end. That matters.
Reality Check: Depth pieces played depth-piece baseball. Too many of them played every day.
Final Team Grade — Infield & Catchers: B-
(Midterm was a flat C.)
Why the bump? The spine of the defense held, the rookie catcher didn’t collapse, Mayer ticked forward, and Romy’s bat didn’t ghost us. The drags remained the drags—backup catching, fringe gloves, and the first-base carousel—but the floor rose a half-step while the ceiling (when healthy) flashed something like a plan. The errors also were down.
Roster Notes for 2026
First Base: Acquire certainty or build redundancy. “Hope” isn’t depth.
Short/Third: You’re good. Story + Bregman + Mayer’s glide path = workable core.
Catcher: Narváez starts. Find a clean-fit defense-first No. 2 so you’re not stress-testing September.
Utility: Keep Romy, streamline Campbell, keep Sogard on speed dial (not in Sharpie).
Philosophy: Pick positions for the kids. Let them fail in one lane, not five.
Closing Bell
Part 1 ends with something rare this season: direction. Not perfection—direction. If Boston adds a real first baseman, keeps Story/Bregman intact, lets Mayer keep climbing, and stops pretending “three catchers” is a personality, the infield might actually be a strength next year. Imagine that: grounders fielded, throws completed, runs produced, blood pressure down.
Part 2 (Outfield) drops next—aka The Land of Athletic Chaos, Wall Ball Physics, and That One Guy Who Can’t Lay Off The High Fastball. Bring coffee. And Advil. Again.
If you made it this far, you’re the reason we do this. Thanks for riding with Red Sox Digest all season—through the good, the bad, and the “why is Blake Sabol in left?” See you in Part 2.