The Astros Finally Release José Abreu

After a year of caressing hopes for a triumphant return of José Abreu’s salad days, the Astros released the veteran first baseman on Friday, ending his disappointing tenure in Houston. It would be an understatement to say the 37-year-old Abreu struggled this season; across 35 games, he batted .124/.167/.195 with two home runs, for an wRC+ of 2 and a WAR that I won’t repeat due to the possibility of children reading. The Astros still owe Abreu a hair under $31 million of the three-year deal he signed soon after the 2022 season, though they’ll be on the hook for slightly less than that if another team signs him for the pro-rated league minimum.

If David Ortiz’s magnificent final season represents the optimal scenario for a beloved veteran slugger to reach retirement, then Abreu’s time with the Astros exemplifies the other far end of the spectrum. During his nine years with the White Sox, from 2014-22, Abreu was one of the most consistent sluggers in baseball, batting .292/.354/.506 with 243 home runs, a 133 wRC+, and 28.3 WAR. He had five 30-homer seasons, and that doesn’t include the shortened 2020 campaign, when he smacked 19 longballs, a full-season pace of 51, en route to winning the AL MVP award. With Chicago, he also earned AL Rookie of the Year honors (2014), made three All-Star teams (’14, ’18, ’19), and won three Silver Sluggers (’14, ’18, ’20). When he became a free agent after his age-35 season and the White Sox didn’t show much interest in bringing him back, Abreu quickly signed with the Astros, who had won the World Series a few weeks earlier.

It seemed like the ideal destination for his three-year autumnal epilogue. Houston wasn’t counting on him to be the centerpiece of the lineup; rather, his role would be to shore up first base and/or designated hitter for a few years and support stars like Kyle Tucker, Yordan Alvarez, Jose Altuve, and Alex Bregman. With the Astros coming off a 106-win season and a World Series championship, with many of their core players returning, it certainly appeared that his new team would provide Abreu a better chance to win a ring than he would’ve had with the clearly fading White Sox. To get an idea of what the reasonable expectations were for Abreu when he signed with Houston, let’s look at his three-year ZiPS projections heading into the 2023 season:

While ZiPS was skeptical that Abreu would be an everyday starter for all three years in Houston, it broadly thought he would be an adequate average-ish option for a year or two. Abreu got off to a wretched start last year, hitting .214/.262/.253 with no home runs through May 14 while starting 39 of the team’s first 40 games. As I wrote last April, there wasn’t even a hint that his struggles were a fluke; his plate discipline had deteriorated and his power evaporated like a puddle after a July thunderstorm in Texas.

There are some highly concerning issues in Abreu’s early-season profile this year that weren’t present in other early starts. When he struggles, he still generally hits the ball extremely hard. This year, his exit velocity has averaged 86.6 mph with an overall hard-hit rate of 36.7% — extremely low numbers for him. He was lousy last April, hitting .217/.308/.348, but he was still crushing pitches he connected with, resulting in a 94.6 mph average EV and a hard-hit rate of 59.6%. He also struggled in April 2021, hitting .213/.296/.394, but with a 92.1 mph EV and a 53.7% hard-hit rate — not quite as good as 2022, but worlds better than where those numbers currently stand. He got off to good starts in 2018 and ’19, so they’re not particularly helpful, and he crushed the ball in August of 2020 (I did not include any 2020 seasons in the April numbers, as the year was just too weird).

Abreu played somewhat better over the rest of the 2023 campaign, hitting .246/.309/.435 with 18 homers across 102 games and capping things off with four homers in the postseason. Rather than taking Abreu’s early-season woes as a warning that the end was near, the Astros proceeded to do very little to pick up another bat over the offseason; their biggest move to add some boom to the lineup came when they acquired Trey Cabbage from the Los Angeles Angels. Given Houston’s ALCS elimination at the hands of its cross-state rivals, the Texas Rangers, and its 90-72 record being its weakest since 2016, it’s hard to guess why the Astros took such a lackadaisical approach to a possible issue. Whether it has to do with the front office overhaul after James Click left is a topic for another day.

This season started off even worse for Abreu. He hit .111/.161/.123 with no homers, for an OPS (.284) that was even lower than the career OPS of Hall of Fame pitcher/extremely awkward hitter Randy Johnson (.305). His exit velocity numbers looked a lot like they did the previous April, and he failed to hit a single barrel. Things were so rough that Abreu agreed to be optioned to the minors to figure things out, leading to the rather odd sight of a former MVP debuting in the minors at age 37; he went straight to the majors 10 years ago after the White Sox signed him as an international free agent out of Cuba, and he never even played in the minors on an injury rehab assignment. Abreu did get back to Houston after a stint in Rookie-ball and a couple games with Triple-A Sugar Land, and he even hit two homers this month. But the writing was on the wall, and with the Mariners finally putting some space between them and the rest of the AL West, the Astros clearly could not afford to wait endlessly for another revival that may never come.

Over the short term, Jon Singleton is likely to continue to get the majority of the playing time at first base with Abreu out of the picture, but saying Singleton improves the team is damning with faint praise; while it was cool to see him come back to the majors after a decade away, he’s not really a productive major league bat. Singleton turns 33 later this year and is a .183/.294/.322 career hitter in the majors, with projections that rank from terrible (.214/.327/.388 in Steamer, .215/.324/.376 in ZiPS) to even more terrible (THE BAT at .193/.289/.343). Rookie Joey Loperfido would seem to be the obvious in-house solution to replace Abreu, but he’s primarily been an outfielder to this point and the organization hasn’t given him many starts at first base in Triple-A, which seems inconsistent with the idea that the Astros will offer him the next crack at the job. A big improvement here likely would require a larger trade, and I’m frankly not sure the decision-makers in Houston right now are equipped to move swiftly and deftly.

What’s next for Abreu? While the natural inclination would be a return to the White Sox, I think that would be a dreadful idea. Mal Tiempo doesn’t bring bad weather to opposing pitchers anymore, and I can’t help but feel that everything good he’ll be remembered for in Chicago is in the past. The Sox need to use their losing season more productively than a farewell tour for Abreu, and a bench bat with the Pale Hose won’t get Abreu one last run in the playoffs. Perhaps the Dodgers will sign him in July and he’ll slug .700 in 100 at-bats in a part-time role, because they’re the Dodgers.

A fun player for a long time and a great leader for the team and his city, Abreu’s almost certainly going to fall short of the Hall of Fame, perhaps even dropping off the ballot after his first year of eligibility. It would be shocking if he added much to his career 263 homers or 26.3 WAR (which is actually two wins less than it was when he left the White Sox), and we’ve yet to see the Hall of Fame voters credit foreign play to get a borderline player over the top. Ichiro Suzuki will easily make the Hall of Fame when he debuts on the ballot in the upcoming election, but that would be the case even if he had never played in Japan. I wrote a little about the possibility of including Abreu’s time in Cuba to evaluate his Hall of Fame case back in 2021, but that was more of a theoretical exercise than a serious expectation he’ll get votes.

No, Abreu is not going out on his best, but the cruelty of time in baseball isn’t that different from life. At some point, all of us will lose our ability to do the things we’re great at, the things we love, and eventually, anything at all. It’s just that as a ballplayer, his transition comes at a relatively younger age under very public scrutiny. I’ve always been a fan of the Orson Welles quote on the subject, and it’s one I’ve said that I’d like to have on my eventual epitaph: “If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” If this is the melancholy final chapter of the story of Abreu’s baseball career, it was still a volume that was wonderful to read.