Dave Roberts expresses intense frustration with the Dodgers’ inconsistent and extravagant performance despite their star power and high expectations.
Dave Roberts, the manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers, has never been one to shy away from pressure. He understands the magnitude of the role he occupies, leading one of Major League Baseball’s most storied and scrutinized franchises. In recent years, especially during the 2025 season, his job has taken on an even more intense emotional weight. With a roster stacked with superstars—players with astronomical salaries, MVP accolades, and immense talent—the expectation is clear: dominate, win the division, steamroll through October, and hoist the World Series trophy. But what has unfolded on the field has been far from that narrative. Instead, the Dodgers have floundered with inconsistency, delivering brilliant performances one night and inexplicably lackluster efforts the next. The swings in their play have left Roberts visibly exasperated, his patience eroded by the widening gulf between potential and reality.
In postgame interviews, the usual composed and optimistic tone that Roberts often employed has recently given way to stark honesty and, at times, searing frustration. He has questioned the team’s focus, their ability to execute in crucial moments, and their seeming complacency. With every loss to a sub-.500 team or blown late-inning lead, the tension mounts—not just from the media or the fanbase, but from within Roberts himself. It’s the frustration of a man who sees what this team could be, juxtaposed with what it too often chooses to be. “It’s not about talent. It’s not about experience. It’s about consistency and accountability,” he recently stated after a crushing 8-7 loss where the bullpen unraveled and the defense committed avoidable errors. There was no sugarcoating, no talk of “turning the page.” The frustration was raw.
This is a team that boasts some of the game’s most formidable players. Mookie Betts, Freddie Freeman, Shohei Ohtani, and a cast of elite-level contributors headline a lineup that should, on paper, be scoring six or seven runs a night and punishing opposing pitchers. The starting rotation, when healthy, is one of the deepest in the league. The bullpen has arms capable of overpowering hitters. Yet the Dodgers have struggled to put together any sustainable rhythm. They go on six-game winning streaks, only to follow it with a week of uninspired, mistake-ridden baseball. Roberts has seen enough to know that talent doesn’t guarantee effort. Star power doesn’t automatically translate to championship mettle.
And therein lies the core of his frustration: this isn’t a rebuilding team finding its footing. This is a team designed to win now, loaded with veterans and driven by the pursuit of championships. The front office has done its part, investing heavily, orchestrating blockbuster trades, and spending on marquee free agents. Ownership has backed the vision with one of the largest payrolls in baseball. From a resources standpoint, Roberts has arguably been given more than any manager in baseball history. The pressure that comes with that is immense. Every misstep is magnified. Every underperformance triggers criticism not just of the players, but of Roberts’ leadership.
What grates most on Roberts is the lack of urgency. In interviews, he has lamented the team’s inability to seize control of games and impose their will on opponents. Too often, the Dodgers fall behind early and appear to coast, waiting for someone to bail them out with a late-inning homer. There’s an absence of grit, of the hard-nosed edge that characterized the Dodgers teams of past years. Roberts knows that effort is a choice. Slumps happen. Pitchers have bad days. But playing sharp baseball—running the bases well, staying alert on defense, executing sacrifice bunts or situational hitting—that’s a matter of focus. And when a team as talented as the Dodgers repeatedly fails in those areas, it points to something deeper.
The clubhouse, for all its veteran presence, hasn’t always projected the intensity needed to weather tough stretches. That’s not to say there’s internal discord, but perhaps a level of comfort has settled in—a dangerous thing for a team with championship aspirations. Roberts, a former player himself, understands how long the grind of a 162-game season can be. He knows the challenge of staying mentally locked in. But that’s exactly what separates great teams from good ones. And at this point, the Dodgers are teetering dangerously close to being just “good.”
Fans have taken notice too. While Dodger Stadium remains packed night after night, the energy has shifted. Boos have rained down after ugly losses. Social media has been ablaze with criticism—not just of players, but of Roberts himself. His bullpen management, always a polarizing topic, has come under scrutiny again. Questions swirl about whether he’s too loyal to struggling veterans or too rigid with matchups. Roberts hears the noise, but his frustration is less about external pressure and more about internal accountability. He wants his players to take personal responsibility, to hold each other accountable. That’s the culture he’s tried to build since taking over in 2016. But culture only goes so far when the product on the field keeps underwhelming.
One particularly painful loss to the Padres saw the Dodgers blow a four-run lead late, capped by a walk-off homer. After the game, Roberts’ tone was different. Not just disappointed, but exasperated. He questioned the team’s killer instinct, their inability to “step on the throat” when the opportunity presents itself. He called out specific plays—not in a demeaning way, but in a pointed effort to signal that mediocrity would not be tolerated. That game wasn’t just a loss. It felt symbolic of the season’s rollercoaster ride. A flash of brilliance followed by inexplicable failure.
The disparity between individual accolades and team cohesion is also becoming more glaring. Freeman continues to hit above .300, Ohtani draws national headlines, and Betts remains an on-base machine. But individual greatness means little when it doesn’t coalesce into collective success. Roberts has alluded to this disconnect, noting that the team needs to move away from hero-ball and embrace a more unified approach. Too often, it seems like players are pressing, trying to do too much instead of trusting the process and trusting each other. When every at-bat becomes a quest for redemption, it breeds tension rather than chemistry.
Injuries, of course, have played a role. The Dodgers have seen key contributors sidelined, throwing rotations and lineups into disarray. But injuries affect every team. Depth was supposed to be a Dodgers strength. Roberts refuses to use health as a crutch. His issue is not with availability, but with effort and execution. And he’s not just venting to the media—his messages are reflected in how he’s managed lately. Players have been benched for lack of hustle. Roles have shifted. He’s made it clear that reputations mean little if the results aren’t there.
It’s also impossible to ignore the elephant in the room: the postseason failures. While Roberts led the Dodgers to a World Series title in 2020, the years since have ended in disappointment. Early exits, mental lapses, and teams that suddenly forget how to hit once the calendar flips to October. The pressure to redeem those failures is immense. Every regular season loss feels heavier, not because it dooms the standings, but because it signals that the deeper issues haven’t been resolved. Roberts feels that pressure acutely. He knows that another early playoff exit could end his tenure, regardless of how respected he is in the organization. That urgency fuels his current demeanor. He’s not just frustrated for the sake of optics—he’s fighting to instill a sense of accountability that could salvage the season.
In many ways, Roberts finds himself in the same place as his 2025 Dodgers: immensely gifted, but weighed down by expectation. His leadership is being tested in ways it never has before. The standard in Los Angeles is no longer just winning; it’s winning convincingly and consistently. The Dodgers aren’t measured by division titles anymore. They’re measured by parades. When those don’t happen, scrutiny descends. And when a roster this expensive and talented underperforms, it’s not just a team issue—it becomes a referendum on leadership.
Roberts still believes in his group. That much is clear. He defends his players when warranted. He praises their work ethic. But belief without results grows stale. And right now, Roberts isn’t content with belief. He wants action. He wants accountability. He wants urgency. If the Dodgers can’t find those things in the dog days of summer, they may never find them at all.
What’s most striking is the contrast between the expectations and the output. The Dodgers were supposed to be a juggernaut. They were the team that reloaded with Ohtani, who was supposed to give them a generational weapon on both sides of the ball. They didn’t rebuild—they upgraded. The baseball world braced for dominance. And instead, they got inconsistency. Sloppy base running. Unearned runs. Missed signs. Blown saves. All of it speaks to a team playing below its capabilities, and that’s what eats at Roberts more than anything.
There’s still time, of course. Baseball is a long season, and the Dodgers remain very much in contention. A hot streak in August can change the narrative. A deep playoff run can erase a summer of frustration. Roberts knows that. He’s not throwing in the towel. But he’s done sugarcoating the issues. The 2025 Dodgers have been a puzzle—one filled with shiny pieces that don’t seem to fit together. If Roberts can solve it, he’ll go down as a genius. If not, the legacy he’s built could start to fray. For now, though, his frustration is loud and unmistakable. And unless his team hears it—and responds—the noise in Los Angeles is only going to get louder.
