Dave Roberts expresses his intense frustration with the Dodgers’ inconsistent play despite their star power and high expectations.

Dave Roberts stood in the dugout, arms crossed tightly against his chest, as another routine play turned into a missed opportunity for the Los Angeles Dodgers. The look on his face spoke volumes—his jaw clenched, lips drawn into a hard line, and his eyes fixed on the field with a mix of disbelief and frustration that has become all too familiar in the 2025 season. Despite the depth of talent on his roster—future Hall of Famers, perennial All-Stars, breakout young talent—the Dodgers continued to underwhelm. Their record didn’t scream disaster, but it whispered mediocrity at a time when dominance was the expectation.

Roberts, now in his ninth season managing one of baseball’s most scrutinized teams, has had to face his fair share of criticism. But in 2025, the weight of inconsistency is wearing visibly on him. In postgame interviews, his usual measured tone has occasionally given way to pointed remarks. When asked about the team’s lack of energy in the latter innings of a recent home loss, he didn’t mince words. “It’s unacceptable,” Roberts said, pausing for a long moment as if considering how much more he could say. “With the players we have, the way we’re preparing, there’s no excuse for the kind of mental lapses we’re seeing.”

On paper, the Dodgers are still one of the most intimidating lineups in baseball. Mookie Betts remains a force at the top of the order, Shohei Ohtani’s bat commands fear, Freddie Freeman brings consistency, and the rotation boasts names like Tyler Glasnow and Walker Buehler. Yet despite these marquee players, the Dodgers have stumbled in ways that suggest something deeper than a temporary slump. Games they should win—games they dominate for seven innings—slip away in the eighth or ninth. Runners are left stranded in scoring position. Defensive miscues cost them innings and, eventually, games.

Roberts has seen enough. “It’s not about the talent,” he said following a frustrating loss to the Giants, a division rival that has outplayed the Dodgers in high-leverage situations this season. “We have plenty of that. It’s about execution, focus, and consistency—every pitch, every at-bat. And right now, we’re not getting that from everyone.”

Insiders close to the team say Roberts has been more vocal behind the scenes, holding longer team meetings, pushing players to take accountability, and even challenging some of the veterans to step up in ways they haven’t had to in years. “There’s a standard here,” Roberts reportedly told the team. “And if you’re wearing a Dodgers uniform, you either meet it or you don’t belong.”

His frustration doesn’t stem from panic. It stems from knowing what this team is capable of—and watching it fall short, time and time again. In a league where windows for contention can close in the blink of an eye, Roberts is determined not to let complacency or mental laziness cost them another October. He’s managed teams that were less talented to greater consistency. This team, loaded with stars, should be dominating series, not splitting them.

Roberts has long been known for his player-first approach, trusting his veterans and creating an environment where guys want to play for him. But the tone this year has shifted. “We can’t keep using the calendar as an excuse,” he said. “We can’t say, ‘It’s early’ or ‘We’ll figure it out in September.’ That’s how you miss out on what this team should be doing—setting the tone now.”

Part of the inconsistency, Roberts has acknowledged, comes from the bullpen, which has been erratic at best. Injuries have played a role, of course—every team deals with them—but late-inning collapses have plagued the Dodgers more than they should. The manager has shuffled roles, tried matchups, given younger arms opportunities. Still, blown leads have become a recurring theme. Each one chips away at confidence. Each one fuels Roberts’ growing exasperation.

And then there’s the offense, capable of putting up double digits one night and then going ice cold for the next two. The power is there, the on-base numbers are solid, but the clutch hitting—the ability to manufacture runs when it matters—has disappeared at times. Roberts has pointed out the need for better situational awareness, for hitters to avoid chasing pitches out of the zone, for the team to get back to the basics. “We’re relying on the long ball too much,” he said. “Great teams do the little things right. We’re not doing that right now.”

Despite the frustrations, Roberts isn’t throwing in the towel. He still believes in the roster, still believes the Dodgers can flip the switch. But he’s also realistic. “This league doesn’t care about what we did last year, or the year before that,” he said. “No one’s going to hand us a playoff spot because we have a few big names. You earn it, every day.”

Roberts has tried to set that tone himself, showing up early, keeping routines sharp, and challenging his coaching staff to do more. He’s not one to publicly call out players, but his recent comments have signaled a change in his approach. The patience that once defined him as a manager is being replaced—if not completely, then noticeably—by urgency.

The fan base, one of the most passionate in baseball, has started to murmur. Social media is awash in armchair critiques of Roberts’ bullpen decisions, lineup choices, and postgame demeanor. While Roberts has weathered criticism before, there’s a sense that the expectations this season—especially with the addition of Ohtani and the promise of a superteam—make any underperformance feel amplified.

Roberts understands that pressure. He’s not immune to it. But he refuses to let outside noise dictate his approach. “We’re in this together,” he said of his team. “And if anyone in this clubhouse is feeling that pressure, good. That means they care. But now it’s time to respond.”

In quiet moments, away from cameras and microphones, those close to Roberts say he carries the weight of this season differently. Not out of fear for his job—his track record still commands respect—but because he genuinely believes this group can be special. Watching them play below that standard, night after night, clearly eats at him.

There have been moments of brilliance—games where the pitching clicks, the bats are alive, and the defense sparkles. In those games, the Dodgers look like world-beaters. But too often, those highs are followed by inexplicable lows. “It’s about consistency,” Roberts repeats like a mantra. “Not one game, not one week. It’s about showing up every day ready to compete, ready to do your job. Right now, that’s missing.”

As the trade deadline looms, speculation swirls about whether the front office will make a big move to shake things up. Roberts isn’t lobbying publicly, but it’s clear he wants reinforcements—or at the very least, a jolt to the team’s collective mentality. “If this isn’t a wake-up call, I don’t know what is,” he said after a recent loss where the team squandered a six-run lead. “Something has to change.”

His comments have not gone unnoticed by players. Several have responded in interviews, expressing their own disappointment and a desire to “get back to playing Dodgers baseball,” as Freeman put it. The clubhouse remains tight-knit, but the tension is growing. Everyone knows what’s at stake.

Roberts’ frustration is born of belief—belief in his players, in the system, in the culture the Dodgers have built over the past decade. That’s what makes it all the more maddening. When you’ve seen what this team can be, anything less becomes intolerable.

Still, Roberts keeps showing up. He meets with his staff, reviews the game tape, tinkers with lineups, talks to his players one-on-one. He hasn’t given up on this season. But he won’t sugarcoat it either. “We’re too good to be playing like this,” he said flatly. “And if we don’t fix it soon, we’re going to look back and realize we wasted something special.”

The Dodgers have time. Not much, but enough. Enough to regroup, refocus, and make a push. Roberts will be right there, pushing, prodding, demanding more—not because he wants to protect his legacy, but because he knows what greatness looks like. And what he’s seeing right now isn’t close.