Joe Ryan, the Twins, and the Arbitration Dance That No One Enjoys
Joe Ryan didn’t sound angry. He didn’t sound thrilled, either. Mostly, he sounded like someone who’d just finished a long, frustrating process he never wanted to be part of in the first place.
“It is what it is-it’s done,” Ryan said, following the agreement he reached with the Minnesota Twins on a one-year, $6.2 million deal that includes a $13 million mutual option for 2027. That handshake came just hours before both sides were scheduled to board flights to Phoenix for what would've been an arbitration hearing - the kind of meeting that can leave bruises, even when the numbers involved are relatively small.
In this case, the gap was just $500,000. But as anyone around the league will tell you, arbitration isn’t really about the money - it’s about the process. And that process, year after year, remains one of the most uncomfortable rituals in baseball.
A Season That Told Two Stories
On paper, Ryan’s 2025 campaign was solid: 13 wins, a 3.42 ERA, and 194 strikeouts over 171 innings. He missed bats at an elite rate (28.2% strikeout rate) and, for most of the year, was a stabilizing force in a Twins rotation that needed exactly that.
Through his first 121 1/3 innings, Ryan was dealing - a 2.82 ERA, only 14 home runs allowed, and the kind of presence that earned him his first All-Star nod. He looked like a guy you could hand the ball to in October.
But baseball seasons are long, and the back half told a different story.
After a rough outing in Toronto on August 25, Ryan admitted that his energy dipped following the trade deadline. The Twins had slipped out of playoff contention, and the adrenaline that fuels late-season surges just wasn’t there.
Over his final 10 starts, his ERA ballooned to 4.89, and the home run ball became a problem - 2.2 homers per nine innings over that stretch. His fastball command wavered, his sharpness dulled, and suddenly, the narrative around his season shifted.
In arbitration, those shifts matter. The hearing room doesn’t account for fatigue, motivation, or the grind of a long season.
It’s a numbers game, and every dip becomes a data point against you. For players, it’s a cold reminder that the business side of baseball doesn’t always reflect the human side.
“A Dumb System”
Ryan recently switched agents, moving to VC Sports Group, but the numbers had already been filed by his previous representation. Once those figures were exchanged, the clock started ticking toward a hearing. And even though the sides were close, neither blinked right away.
Ryan didn’t hold back when asked about the process.
“They’re trying to win, and that’s kind of their show,” he said. “That’s their baseball game… I think at the end of the day that process is pretty antiquated, and kind of stupid.
No one in the league likes it. No team likes it.
No one that works for a team likes it. No players like it.
It doesn’t benefit anyone. It’s just a dumb system.”
Hard to argue with him. Arbitration pits teams and players against each other in a courtroom-like setting, where clubs are required to pick apart the very players they rely on. It’s awkward, it’s outdated, and it often leaves scars.
A Changing Landscape?
If there’s a silver lining for players, it might be the ripple effect from Tarik Skubal’s recent arbitration win. Skubal, the Tigers’ ace and two-time defending Cy Young winner, filed at $32 million.
Detroit countered at $19 million. The panel sided with the pitcher - a massive victory that shattered Juan Soto’s previous arbitration record ($31 million in 2024) and more than doubled the largest year-over-year raise ever awarded.
Skubal’s case sent a message: if you’re a frontline starter with elite results, arbitration panels are listening. And they’re rewarding impact.
Ryan isn’t Skubal - not yet. But he’s part of a growing group of arbitration-eligible starters who bring both volume and swing-and-miss stuff to the table.
As salaries for that tier climb, it becomes harder for teams to suppress value using selective stats or late-season slumps. Skubal’s win set a precedent: durability, strikeouts, and meaningful innings matter.
And when those ingredients are present, pitchers are going to get paid.
That subtle shift helps players like Ryan, even if the system itself still feels like it belongs in another era.
The Twins’ Perspective
For Minnesota, the goal was simple: avoid the hearing. Arbitration hearings can strain relationships. They force teams to highlight a player’s flaws in front of the player himself - not exactly a recipe for long-term goodwill.
The Twins have generally steered clear of those kinds of confrontations with their core guys. Getting Ryan signed at $6.2 million keeps him in the fold at a reasonable number and leaves the door open for a $13 million mutual option next year. It’s clean business, and it avoids the emotional mess that can come with arbitration.
But Ryan’s words still hang in the air. The system is broken.
Everyone knows it. And while both sides played their roles - because the collective bargaining agreement says they have to - no one walked away feeling like this was the best way to do business.
In the end, the Twins and Joe Ryan did what most teams and players do in this situation: they compromised. They shook hands. They moved on.
But the bigger question remains: how long will baseball keep playing this game within the game - one that no one seems to enjoy, and everyone agrees needs to change?