OPINION: Former Astro Kyle Tucker’s $240M contract with Dodgers marks L.A.’s latest swing into payroll absurdity

Thursday night, plenty of Houston Astros fans likely felt a jolt of emotional whiplash when the alert hit their phones: former star outfielder Kyle Tucker had signed a free agent deal with the Los Angeles Dodgers.

My first reaction was probably the same as many others’: Wow, he must’ve taken a big pay cut to make that work.

After all, the Dodgers already had seven players on contracts north of $100 million. Surely there was a limit, right?

There wasn’t.

When the details emerged minutes later, they felt almost perfectly crafted to say, “Michael, you poor fool.”

King Tuck’s shiny new deal

The Dodgers didn’t hunt for a bargain. They didn’t compromise. They gave Tucker every dollar he was worth—and then tens of millions more for good measure.

Tucker agreed to a four-year, $240 million deal, good for an even $60 million annually.

His AAV now ranks second in all of baseball, trailing only Shohei Ohtani, with whom he’ll chew bubblegum in the Dodgers’ dugout for years to come.

MORE INFO: Kyle Tucker agrees to a $240 million, 4-year contract with the World Series champion Dodgers

In an instant, my internal dialogue shifted from asking “Why would Kyle Tucker do this?” to “How could he possibly say no?”

Absurd contracts are nothing new for the Dodgers, but Tucker’s deal pushes the philosophy into a different stratosphere.

The Dodgers’ crazy spending—and how it hurts the game

Tucker becomes the eighth member of the team’s nine-figure club, joining Ohtani (10 years, $700M), Mookie Betts (12, $365M), Yoshinobu Yamamoto (12, $325M), Blake Snell (five, $182M), Freddie Freeman (six, $162M), Will Smith (10, $140M), and Tyler Glasnow (five, $136.5M).

This isn’t about signing a superstar anymore. It’s about signing all of them.

Big-market teams have flexed their financial muscle for decades. New York, Los Angeles, even Houston and Dallas have all played that game.

What separates the Dodgers is scale. They’ve taken contract figures once reserved for a single franchise cornerstone and built nearly an entire starting roster with them.

They’re not just outspending small-market teams. They’re outspending several of them combined.

According to data from amNewYork’s Joe Pantorno, the Dodgers are projected to spend more on Kyle Tucker alone next season than 11 MLB teams will spend on their entire payrolls.

At some point, outspending becomes financial smothering.

What’s the incentive for a small-market fan to invest emotionally when championships can be blatantly bought with the stroke of a pen?

Would the Olympics still feel compelling if one swimmer was handed a jet ski—then celebrated gold medals as if everyone else simply should’ve swum faster?

The counterargument is obvious: every team is free to spend what it wants, and if owners choose not to, that’s their problem.

But the economies of Los Angeles and New York City don’t resemble those of Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, or Kansas City—not even close. All owners are wealthy, but there are levels to that wealth.

Cincinnati Reds principal owner Bob Castellini has an estimated net worth of about $400 million, according to a Google search. The Dodgers are reportedly staring at a $410 million payroll in 2026. Those worlds do not intersect.

Fans are already being priced out of baseball through ticket costs, broadcast blackouts, and conflicting streaming rights that make watching every game in one place largely impossible. Are we heading toward a future where entire cities are priced out, too?

So, how does MLB fix it?

The same way every other major American professional league has: a salary cap.

In the NFL, a small-market Kansas City team is the league’s reigning dynasty. Green Bay, Pittsburgh, and Baltimore remain perennial contenders. Meanwhile, the two New York City teams are tied for the least total wins in the league over the last five seasons (the Giants and Jets each have just 26 wins across their last 85 games).

In the NBA, Oklahoma City is the reigning champion. Denver, Milwaukee, and Cleveland have all won titles in the past decade. New York City’s marquee franchise? Still synonymous with disappointment.

That parity doesn’t just happen. It’s enforced.

Salary caps prevent financial bullying, stabilize player markets, and force every franchise to play by the same rules—regardless of zip code.

Salary caps prevent financial bullying, stabilize player markets, and ensure every franchise plays by the same rules—regardless of zip code.

Sign a superstar to a massive deal, and the rest of the payroll pays the price. Those consequences make owners think twice about roster construction and put extra responsibility on superstars to earn their big contracts.

The objections to an MLB salary cap are real, though. Convincing someone earning $700 million that their earnings should be controlled for the sake of the sport is a tough sell. Caps restrict free markets, punish success, and protect less profitable owners.

All true.

But is that tradeoff worth it if it gives the other 85% of the league a legitimate shot in the modern game?

MLB’s Collective Bargaining Agreement expires this December, and many analysts already expect another lockout in 2026.

Lockouts are brutal—for players, owners, and fans.

But I suspect the urge to fight the current system is only trending upward, especially if a certain team in SoCal lifts its third straight trophy—while celebrating like a franchise spending hundreds of millions more than your team has somehow defied the odds.

Because if this is the future of baseball, fewer people may feel it’s worth watching at all.