Only one of MLB’s top two third basemen is able to move on Padres Dodgers

Only one of MLB’s top two third basemen is able to move on Padres Dodgers

The Padres and Dodgers, two longtime National League West rivals, have given fans no shortage of drama over the years, but in recent seasons their battles have transcended team dynamics and spilled over into personal rivalries—nowhere more so than at third base. The hot corner has become a flashpoint in this rivalry, with each team boasting one of the most dynamic, influential, and controversial third basemen in Major League Baseball. As the postseason looms, the conversation narrows: only one of them will move forward. Only one of them will have the chance to carry their team to October glory. The stakes have never been higher for Manny Machado and Max Muncy.

Machado and Muncy are, in many ways, polar opposites—and yet they’re bound by a strange symmetry. Machado, the Padres’ franchise cornerstone, is a former top prospect who entered the league with sky-high expectations and largely delivered on them. Muncy, by contrast, was cast off by the Oakland Athletics before being resurrected by the Dodgers and transformed into one of the most dangerous left-handed hitters in the league. They’ve taken different paths, but now find themselves on a collision course, both figuratively and literally, with playoff positioning hanging in the balance.

Manny Machado, once a Baltimore Oriole, has been an anchor in San Diego since signing his 10-year, $300 million contract. That deal, massive at the time, was not just about numbers—it was about making the Padres relevant again. And in many ways, he has. Machado’s presence gives the Padres credibility and swagger. He’s a five-tool player whose impact isn’t always visible in the box score. While he doesn’t always lead the league in offensive categories, his defense at third is Gold Glove-caliber, and his leadership, though sometimes understated or misinterpreted, matters in that clubhouse. Machado carries himself with the confidence of someone who has been there, done that, and expects greatness from himself and others. But the burden of expectations in San Diego is heavy. For all their spending and talent acquisition, the Padres have often underperformed, failing to match their star-studded roster with consistent results. Machado, as the team’s emotional and performance leader, gets the lion’s share of the credit when they win—and the blame when they don’t.

Meanwhile, Max Muncy has been a walking contradiction since arriving in Los Angeles. He doesn’t have the traditional body type or swing of a modern superstar. His batting average often floats in the low .200s, his glove isn’t elite, and he’s not a prototypical third baseman. But what Muncy does do is produce—often in the biggest moments. He hits home runs, draws walks, and gets under opponents’ skin in the same way he energizes his teammates. Muncy is the embodiment of the Dodgers’ player development and analytics machine: a player who was all but discarded until the Dodgers found a way to unlock his value. He’s streaky, sure, but when he gets hot, there are few hitters more dangerous. His power to all fields, particularly in pressure situations, has turned him into a fan favorite and a villain in the eyes of opposing fans. And that’s part of the magic of Muncy—he plays with a chip on his shoulder, like a guy who remembers every scout that doubted him.

The Dodgers and Padres have squared off in heated matchups over the past few seasons, but there’s an undeniable sense that their rivalry—once more geographical than competitive—has become intensely personal. And nowhere is that more apparent than in the battles between Machado and Muncy. These two don’t just represent their teams; they reflect their organizations’ identities. The Dodgers, polished, calculated, ruthlessly efficient. The Padres, flashy, bold, and occasionally erratic. You can see it in the way Muncy calmly flips his bat after a walk-off homer or the way Machado stares down a pitcher after a clutch hit. They’re not just third basemen; they’re avatars of their teams’ spirits.

As we head into the crucial final stretch of the season, the pressure is mounting. The NL West has once again become a cauldron of competition. The Giants lurk, the Diamondbacks are scrappy, and the wild card picture is murky. Every game matters. Every at-bat, every defensive play, carries postseason implications. And Machado and Muncy know it. Both have carried their teams through tough stretches before. Both have stepped up in October. But this year, there’s no room for both to shine. Only one will emerge. Only one will lead his team into the deep waters of playoff baseball.

Machado has battled injuries throughout the season, but when he’s on the field, the Padres look different. His range at third base, his ability to turn tough double plays, his rocket of an arm—these are stabilizing forces on a team that often teeters between brilliance and breakdown. Offensively, while his numbers have dipped slightly, Machado still has the ability to change a game with one swing. He hits good pitching. He handles pressure. And he’s never shied away from the moment. Critics have long questioned his hustle or attitude, but teammates and coaches speak highly of his commitment. He’s not the loudest guy in the room, but he’s respected.

Muncy, for all his volatility, has remained a fixture in the Dodgers’ lineup. Even as others around him—Freddie Freeman, Mookie Betts, Shohei Ohtani—grab headlines, Muncy has quietly continued to be a glue guy. He takes pitches, works counts, and punishes mistakes. He’s also developed into a surprisingly clutch performer. His postseason track record is dotted with key home runs and late-inning heroics. He may not have Machado’s glove or pedigree, but Muncy’s value is undeniable. He’s the kind of player who can get hot in September and carry a team for weeks. And in a playoff chase, that kind of momentum can be deadly.

There’s also the mental aspect. Machado and Muncy both understand the weight of the moment. For Machado, it’s about fulfilling the expectations that came with his contract. The Padres were supposed to be contenders by now—no, more than contenders. They were supposed to be champions. The fanbase is hungry, and their patience is wearing thin. Another year of disappointment could lead to major shake-ups. For Muncy, it’s about maintaining dominance. The Dodgers aren’t just expected to make the playoffs; they’re expected to win them. Anything short of a World Series is seen as a failure. That’s the burden of sustained excellence. And Muncy, despite being a late bloomer, is now a veteran voice in that clubhouse.

If you polled GMs, scouts, or fans, you’d get a divided answer on who they’d rather have at third base. Machado has the higher ceiling, the flashier tools, and the all-around package. Muncy, though, may be more consistent in some offensive metrics and brings an intangible grit. In truth, both have flaws. Machado can get cold at the plate and sometimes lets frustration show. Muncy strikes out a ton and his defense is passable at best. But in a short series? In a one-game playoff? Either guy could be the difference.

The reality is that one of these players will have to watch the other continue their October journey from the outside. There’s no guarantee that either the Padres or the Dodgers make a deep run, but it’s unlikely they both do. The math doesn’t work. Not in this loaded National League, not with so many teams chasing so few spots. And that’s what makes the current moment so charged. Machado and Muncy aren’t just playing for their teams. They’re playing for legacy. For pride. For that narrow path to a championship.

There’s something poetic about it. Two rivals, both with something to prove. Two cities, forever linked and yet forever divided. Two third basemen, playing the same position but doing it in such different ways. One the elite athlete with the effortless swing and laser throws; the other the grinder who muscled his way into superstardom through sheer perseverance and power. Baseball, more than any other sport, thrives on these kinds of contrasts. It’s why fans get emotional, why rivalries burn so hot.

As we near the final weeks of the regular season, every highlight and misstep will be scrutinized. Every Machado error will be amplified. Every Muncy strikeout will raise questions. But both have the chance to silence doubters. Both have the tools to leave a mark on this postseason. And both, whether they admit it or not, want to outshine the other. Because in a rivalry this intense, it’s never just about winning—it’s about beating the other guy.

Come October, we’ll know who moves on. We’ll know which third baseman carried his team through the fire and into the promised land. Until then, all we can do is watch—watch and wait, as two of the game’s most compelling figures battle not just for wins, but for the right to keep playing. Only one of MLB’s top two third basemen is able to move on. And neither is backing down.

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