Dodgers Analysis: The Changing Face of Andrew Friedman’s Dodgers

LOS ANGELES — When the Dodgers designated Chris Taylor and Austin Barnes for assignment in May 2025, the move sent shockwaves through the fanbase. Not because their performance warranted untouchability—both veterans had struggled in recent seasons—but because of what their departures symbolized. For nearly a decade, Taylor and Barnes embodied the blueprint that defined the first era of Andrew Friedman’s tenure as Dodgers President of Baseball Operations: a relentless pursuit of undervalued assets, development-focused culture, and the belief that championships could be built on depth and versatility, not just star power.

That era is now officially over.

The Friedman Philosophy, Version 1.0

When Friedman arrived in Los Angeles in late 2014, the Dodgers were already a big-spending team. But Friedman, fresh off building a perennial overachiever in Tampa Bay, brought a different sensibility. He wasn’t interested in merely buying talent; he wanted to develop it, to discover it in places others overlooked. His Dodgers were defined as much by the players they unearthed as by the ones they acquired with fanfare.

Justin Turner was the first major success story. A cast-off from the Mets, Turner became a cornerstone of the Dodgers’ resurgence, transforming into an All-Star and clubhouse leader. That move set the tone for others: Max Muncy, plucked from Triple-A purgatory; Chris Taylor, traded for a struggling middle reliever; and Austin Barnes, acquired in a quiet deal for Dee Gordon.

“[Chris Taylor] was the consummate pro,” Friedman said during a recent press conference, voice heavy with emotion. “He came in hungry and wanting to get better… He learned the outfield, got really good out there. The production he brought was incredible.”

Taylor, who came over from Seattle in 2016 as a utility infielder without much of a bat, became a Swiss Army knife. He played nearly every position, hit with unexpected power, and etched his name into franchise lore with clutch October moments—none bigger than his walk-off homer in the 2021 NL Wild Card Game.

Barnes, meanwhile, was never a star, but he was indispensable in other ways: catching aces, managing pitching staffs, and providing quiet leadership behind the scenes. “Barnsy and CT have been in the middle of some huge moments for this organization,” Friedman said. “Both guys have left an indelible mark on our culture.”

They were emblematic of a team that valued versatility, work ethic, and buy-in. This wasn’t a club built on buying championships—it was one that developed them.

The results were impressive, but heartbreaking. The 2017 Dodgers were the first to reach the promised land in October, only to be thwarted by the Astros* and their trashcans. Then, in 2018, a scrappy team won the division in a Game 163 against the Rockies, and made it to the World Series as well, only to be steamrolled by the juggernaut of Mookie’s Red Sox. 2019 was another great year, with 106 wins, but that season, too, ended in heartbreak with the extra-innings loss to the eventual champion Nationals.

The Shift: Superstars and a New Model

But that model has evolved. Slowly at first, then all at once.

It began with Mookie Betts in 2020. Then Freddie Freeman in 2022. Then Shohei Ohtani, Yoshinobu Yamamoto, and Tyler Glasnow in rapid succession. For the first time in Friedman’s tenure, the Dodgers are playing superstar “checkbook” baseball on a massive financial scale.

It’s not that the Dodgers have abandoned development. Andy Pages is emerging. James Outman is still in the mix. And players like Dalton Rushing are part of the club’s new wave. But the pendulum has clearly swung. In a division as competitive as the NL West, there is no room for sentimentality or slow starts.

“We saw in 2021—winning 106 games and not winning the division,” Friedman noted. “Our primary goal during the regular season is to win the division. That is what we feel puts us in the best position to accomplish our ultimate goal.”

That context mattered in deciding to DFA Taylor and Barnes. The Dodgers, bolstered by an influx of young energy and fresh talent—players like Rushing and Korean import Hyeseong Kim—had no time to wait for veterans to regain form.

“You learn things, and things change,” Friedman said of the May timing. “We just have a lot more information now… while not easy, we felt like it was the right thing to do.”

The Emotional Cost of Progress

For all the talk of efficiency and competition, Friedman was clearly affected by the decision to move on from players who had meant so much to the team—and to him personally.

“There is the element of, you know, the guys who have been here and been a big part of what we’ve done. And the other is looking ahead to who is going to be a part of the next wave,” Friedman said. “It’s never going to feel good. It’s been tough for a lot of us this week.”

He emphasized that Taylor and Barnes helped shape the very culture that the team still builds on today. “If [our culture] is stronger now than five years ago, their fingerprints are still going to be on that,” he said.

Friedman called Taylor “one of the toughest guys I’ve ever been around.” For Barnes, the praise was quieter but no less heartfelt. There’s a reason why Clayton Kershaw repeatedly insisted that Barnes catch him in the playoffs.

These weren’t just role players. They were pillars.

A Delicate Balance

Each offseason, Friedman and his team walk a tightrope—balancing continuity with innovation, loyalty with competition.

“That’s definitely more art than science,” Friedman said of managing the clubhouse dynamic. “Each year we try to find the right balance… This wasn’t something coming into the year we said, ‘Okay, we think in May this is what’s going to happen.’ It’s just the way things played out.”

Taylor’s decline was tied to injuries and diminished opportunities. “It’s hard to play once a week,” Friedman admitted. “That’s probably not the best role for him to have success.” Barnes, too, saw his playing time dwindle with Will Smith entrenched and Dalton Rushing ascending.

But even as this chapter closes, Friedman remains focused on the big picture: winning another championship. “Everything we do is about how to try to win as many games as we can,” he said. “And try to do it with as much thoughtfulness and humanity as we can.”

The Legacy of the First Friedman Era

The Dodgers are still Friedman’s team. But the philosophy that defined his early years—the one that turned cast-offs into October heroes—is no longer the center of gravity. The Dodgers aren’t just the smartest team in the room anymore. They’re the richest. The boldest. The most star-studded.

Yet the legacy of Taylor, Barnes, and Turner will live on—not just in the highlights, but in the very foundation of what this franchise became under Friedman: a team that redefined winning.

As Friedman said, “Whenever [Taylor is] done playing—four, five, six years from now—I hope he’s always connected to the Dodgers.”

He already is. So is Barnes. So are all the role players who helped build this into what it is.

This is a new era. But we shouldn’t forget who laid the groundwork. There will be a part of me that will always look back on the early Friedman teams–those from 2015 to 2020 with a certain romantic fondness. They were what you like to see on a baseball field–smart, scrappy, baseball-savvy players who knew their role and left everything they had on the field every night.

There are worse things to say about a baseball team.

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