There’s a strange paradox in modern sports: the more we elevate athletes to near-mythical status, the harder it becomes to hold them accountable when they falter. Take Paul Skenes, the Pittsburgh Pirates’ once-promising pitcher whose recent decline has sparked a debate about how teams should manage their stars. The narrative isn’t just about his stats—it’s about the cultural disconnect between treating a professional athlete as a brand and treating them as a person who needs structure, discipline, and maybe even a firm hand. Personally, I think this tension reveals a deeper issue in how we balance admiration with accountability in sports.
Skenes’ physical appearance—his ‘dad bod,’ as tabloids so crassly put it—has become a talking point, but that’s a distraction. What matters is that he’s no longer the dominant force he once was. His fastball velocity has dropped, his ERA has ballooned, and the Pirates are 9-16 in games he starts. The numbers tell a story of regression, but the bigger question is why? What many people don’t realize is that this isn’t just about talent slipping away—it’s about the psychological and managerial pressures that come with being labeled a ‘star.’ Skenes isn’t just a pitcher; he’s a symbol of potential, and that weight might be crushing him. From my perspective, the problem isn’t his physique or his pitch selection—it’s the lack of clear direction and consequences.
The suggestion to treat Skenes like an employee rather than a star is fascinating. It’s not about devaluing him but about redefining his role. Stars often get coddled, shielded from criticism, and allowed to operate with a level of autonomy that can be both empowering and paralyzing. Skenes, however, seems adrift. He’s not picking his catcher, refining his arsenal, or pushing himself to pitch deeper into games. What makes this particularly fascinating is the contrast between the traditional ‘employee’ model—where structure and hierarchy guide development—and the modern ‘celebrity athlete’ model, where ego and freedom are prioritized. If you take a step back and think about it, the Pirates’ hesitation to impose structure on Skenes mirrors a broader trend in sports management: the fear of alienating a high-profile talent, even if it means sacrificing long-term growth.
Here’s a detail that I find especially interesting: Skenes is still under the Pirates’ control for the next three years via arbitration. That’s a window of opportunity to reshape his career, but the organization seems paralyzed by the idea of being ‘too harsh.’ This raises a deeper question: When does nurturing become enabling? The Pirates could force him to narrow his pitch repertoire, enforce a fitness regimen, and demand consistency. But they’re terrified of the backlash. A detail that’s rarely discussed is how the modern athlete’s public persona—think social media fame, off-field antics—can create a false sense of invincibility. Skenes isn’t just a pitcher; he’s a brand, and the Pirates are afraid of damaging that brand, even if it means letting him fail.
What this really suggests is that sports teams are stuck between two worlds. On one side, there’s the old-school model of strict discipline and hierarchical control. On the other, there’s the modern, almost cult-like worship of athletes as untouchable icons. Skenes is caught in the middle, and neither approach seems to be working. The Pirates could learn from industries outside sports—like tech or entertainment—where accountability and creativity coexist. Imagine a scenario where Skenes is given a clear roadmap: fewer pitches, more focus on velocity, and a strict fitness plan. But instead, they’re letting him flounder, hoping he’ll ‘figure it out’ on his own. That’s not leadership; that’s wishful thinking.
Ultimately, the Skenes situation is a microcosm of a larger cultural shift. We’ve turned athletes into celebrities, but we haven’t adjusted our expectations or management strategies accordingly. The Pirates’ reluctance to treat him as an employee rather than a star is emblematic of this disconnect. If they want to fix his performance, they need to stop treating him like a poster child and start acting like a team. And if they don’t? Well, history shows that stars who aren’t held accountable often burn out, fade away, or end up in a different league altogether. The question is whether the Pirates are brave enough to make the call—or if they’ll let Skenes’ potential become just another cautionary tale.
