In late June 2025, I had the opportunity to go a major league baseball game. The Houston Astros defeated the Chicago Cubs 7-4 at home in a battle between two teams which were both leading their respective divisions at the time. An interesting aspect to that game was the fact that Ryan Pressly and Kyle Tucker, two key members of Houston’s World Series winning team in 2022, were then Cubs. The Astros honored them with a video montage prior to the game, and Kyle received an standing ovation from the nearly 40,000 fans in the stadium before his first at-bat. (Pressly, a pitcher, did not appear in that game.) I’m not a huge baseball fan, but watching a game in person always seems to magnify the spectacle more than watching on TV, and that night did not disappoint. Jose Altuve did Altuve-like things, going 1-4 with a walk, scored twice, and made a couple of spectacular plays at second base which generated palpable electricity in the stadium. I also got to experience the show that is the entrance of Josh Hader, Houston’s closer, who, that night, converted his 22nd consecutive save opportunity on his way to leading the majors that year by recording a franchise record 25 consecutive saves.
The guy that fascinated me the most, however, was Taylor Trammell, a then-27-year-old outfielder for the Houston Astros. Batting ninth, what caught my attention was the fact that his stat line was completely zeros. This guy had more goose eggs than an entire coop. The board listed his batting average as .000, so naturally his slugging percentage was .000 as well. It also listed his on-base percentage as .000. No matter how bad a guy is, you generally don’t expect to see an opening-day stat line from a starter half-way through the season, and even less on a first-place team. But there he was. I couldn’t help wondering, “Why is this kid even on the roster, much less starting?”
Intrigued, I did a little in-game research on him. Trammell played left field that night. The Astros had horrible injury issues in the outfiled in 2025, so much so that Altuve, an All-Star second baseman, was forced to play several games in left. Nevertheless, I was still shocked to see that Trammel wasn’t even listed on Houston’s depth chart as a left fielder: he was their third-string center fielder. Three of their eight outfielders were on the 10-day disabled list, leaving manager Joe Espada with limited options. In fact, Trammel himself had only recently been activated from the injury list.
Trammell’s 1-year, $765,000 contract, which was only a smidge above the league minimum, wasn’t unreasonable for a former first-round draft pick, and the fact that the game I attended was only the second game he had appeared in that year explained all the zeros on his stat line, but I still found myself wondering why this kid was starting for a first place team in late June. Of all the options available to solve the Astros outfield issues, was Trammell really the best one? I understand that they don’t give even league-minimum contracts to just anybody, but whatever the Astros saw in him, I didn’t see it that night. He was 0-3 with a walk and caught both fly balls that were hit to him. Oooh. Get out your stationery and fancy pens, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to write home to mamma — not.
So I dug a little deeper, and found something that is indeed remarkable, but not at all along the lines of what I expected. If you’re not already sitting down, you might want to before reading further.
Taylor Trammell has a World Series ring.
I know, right? It shocked me too. Of all the round things attached to Trammell’s name, the last I expected to see was the game’s most treasured prize. With no disrespect intended toward Taylor, who, according to all news reports, is humbly very grateful for his good fortune, and wants nothing more than to actually contribute on a championship roster, I call this phenomemon the Trammell Travesty.
What’s even more amazing is that he was guaranteed to get a ring even before the first ceremonial pitch of the 2024 World Series was tossed. You see, he was picked up off waivers by the Los Angeles Dodgers in early April 2024. In his 2-week stint with the Dodgers he appeared in 5 games and went 0-6 with 3 strikeouts. Clearly unimpressed, the Dodgers waived him, and the Yankees picked him up. He appeared in 5 games for them as well but only had 2 plate appearances resulting in a walk and a 2-run homer. After two weeks, the Yankees sent him down to their minor league affiliate, where he spent the rest of the season. In early November, the Yankees traded him to the Astros for cash — they weren’t even interested in getting a prospect in exchange for him. However, because he played for both the Dodgers and the Yankees in 2024, he was guaranteed to win a World Series ring as soon as those two teams won their respective pennants, even though he did statistically nothing for either team. In fact, he arguably did more for the Astros in the game I attended than he did during his entire stint with the world champion Dodgers in 2024. And when he won that ring, he wasn’t even in the stadium: he was sitting in his living room, watching the game on TV, just like the rest of us.
Your gut reaction to a story like that might be, “That’s not fair! He didn’t earn it.” It would be hard to argue that your point isn’t valid. Trammell didn’t last more than two weeks on either the Dodger or Yankee roster and wasn’t on any MLB team after May 4, but he still has a ring — something that Ted Williams, arguably the greatest hitter of all time, never got. Or you might say, “He was just lucky. Some guys get all the breaks.” Again, it’s hard to say that’s an invalid perspective. Trammell certainly had no control over which teams picked him up off waivers, and he definitely had no say in which team won the Series. Perhaps you discount it saying, “That’s just they way society is today. No one wants to be accused of excluding anyone. But it doesn’t mean anything — it’s just a participation award.” If that’s your view, I won’t debate you either. Still, I dare say you wouldn’t turn down that kind of participation trophy if it were offered to you. I know I woudn’t.
My response to the Trammell Travesty is mixed. On the one hand, I envy Taylor. For one thing, he’s in the only occupation on earth that I know of where you can fail 70-75% of the time and still be considered an all-time great. No one has hit over .400 since Ted Williams batted .406 in 1941, and many believe that no one ever will again. That means that the expectation for anyone participating in the sport is that they’re going to succeed less than 40% of the time, and it’s acceptable if you succeed only 20-25% of the time. By that standard, I could be great in any discipline, because I’m confident in my ability to fail at least 80% of the time at pretty much anything. Trammell’s also getting the chance to compete at the highest level of of his chosen profession. Very few in any line of work get that kind of opportunity. Then there’s the fact that, even batting ninth and going 0-3 with a walk, he’s still earning 3x more than most of the very best in my profession do. At the time, I was in the middle of my own streak, 15 months into what what would become over 30 months of being unemployed. With that kind of a stat line, I can only wish I could fail as well as Taylor does.
On the other hand, I’m encouraged by Taylor Trammell. In fact, his story was exactly what I needed the week I attended that game. I had just learned that a friend of mine not only landed a job she really wanted but was also valued so much by the employer that they re-evaluated and changed their job hierarchy so they could make an appropriate place for her. I have to admit I was feeling pretty sorry for myself because no one was even calling me back, much less rearranging their HR structure to accommodate me. But Trammell’s World Series ring gave me hope that day, and it continues to encourage me even now. It’s a reminder that I am not in control of my life — God is — and that it’s a good thing that He treats me according to His will, not according to what’s fair. If I were limited to only getting what I deserve, I wouldn’t have most of the wonderful things that I do, including good friends like the one for whom the Lord provided a custom-fit job. Rather than be jealous of the blessing she received, I need to remember that God “gives to all generously and without reproach” (James 1:5). The word “reproach” means “without shame or disgrace.” God doesn’t give to one person to rub it in the face of someone else. Instead, He is generous to all. Sometimes, frequently in fact, that means giving World Series rings to guys whose only contribution to the team was to strike out three times.
Suddenly, my goose eggs don’t look so bad. Thank you, Taylor.
