Culture
Rosenthal: Mr. Angel? Mike Trout's chance of ever escaping the franchise now seems even less likely
No player is untradeable, not even an aging, broken-down, signed-through-2030 Mike Trout. But with Trout’s latest injury, the horrifying thought of him spending the rest of his career with the Los Angeles Angels is moving closer to becoming reality.
Trout, who turns 33 on Aug. 7, is expected to be out at least 8 to 12 weeks while recovering from surgery to repair a meniscus tear in his left knee. He is guaranteed $35.45 million this season and in each of the next six. Even if he returned by say, Aug. 1, and finished on a roll, what team would trust him enough this offseason to take on most or all of his remaining $212.7 million? From 2021 to 2023, Trout missed more games than he played. And given that he is historically a slow healer, he isn’t exactly on track to reverse that trend in 2024.
“We’ll get through it” 😢 @EricaLWeston @Angels l #RepTheHalo pic.twitter.com/2pxLf8JJfn
— Bally Sports West (@BallySportWest) May 1, 2024
A trade of Trout, of course, was a long way from ever happening. To the dismay of many opposing fans, the three-time MVP and 11-time All-Star has steadfastly refused to ask out of Anaheim, maintaining he wants to spend his entire career with one team, like his boyhood idol, Derek Jeter, and win with the Angels.
At the start of spring training, Trout said he was “pushing, pushing, pushing” upper management to add free agents, an indication, perhaps, of his growing impatience. Well, his fuse needed to be shorter. He waited too long.
For a trade scenario to become realistic, the following was necessary:
• The Angels to stink again, which was all but a given.
• Trout to A) return to near-MVP form, which at least stood a chance of happening before he hurt his knee; and B) request a trade, which even Angels fans would have understood considering he has never won a postseason game and not even appeared in the playoffs since 2014.
• Angels owner Arte Moreno to demonstrate a willingness not only to grant Trout’s wish but also to include significant cash in a trade, which … was never happening.
Moreno, remember, repeatedly declined to authorize a trade of Shohei Ohtani, even though it would have brought a monster return that could have kick-started his sorry franchise. He then declined to match the Los Angeles Dodgers’ $700 million offer to Ohtani with $680 million deferred, a deal that could very well pay for itself. Ohtani might not have taken the Angels’ money, mind you. But all the Angels will get back for him now is — yikes — the 74th pick in the 2024 draft.
At a reduced annual salary — $15 million? $20 million? — some club still might want Trout. Trades involving major paydowns have been become increasingly common over the past quarter-century. Moreno has made some, sending the New York Yankees more than $28 million to dump Vernon Wells in March 2013 and $63 million to the Texas Rangers to get rid of Josh Hamilton in April 2015. Wells no longer was a productive player. Hamilton angered Moreno by relapsing into substance abuse. Trout, in contrast, is a model citizen and elite player when healthy, a Moreno favorite.
For Wells and Hamilton, the Angels received virtually nothing. For Trout, Moreno probably would want, oh, six top-100 prospects, particularly if he was parting with tens of millions to facilitate the deal. Trout’s actual trade value, even at a reduced financial commitment, would be much less. So, good luck talking Moreno into this. He wouldn’t trade Ohtani when, more than once, he had the chance to make the same type of deal the Washington Nationals made for Juan Soto.
And now where are the Angels? Stuck with two players, Trout and Anthony Rendon, who combined are earning nearly $75 million annually through the completion of Rendon’s contract in 2026 yet cannot stay on the field. Which is where Trout’s tolerance for Moreno’s erratic stewardship becomes less understandable. The team is a mess, has been a mess, is going to be a mess for at least the next few years.
The Athletic’s Keith Law ranked the Angels’ farm system 29th out of 30, ahead of only the Oakland A’s. Even if the Angels somehow turn it around by the end of Trout’s contract, how functional a player will he be in his late 30s? His early 30s sure have not gone well.
In spring training, Trout told me he heard the noise about how he is content with the Angels, doesn’t want to win, won’t demand a trade. In an interview I conducted with him for Fox Sports, he said, “It fuels me more.” He was convinced he was about to return to form, saying he was getting chills just thinking about the possibility. And the way he was playing, a 50-homer, 30-stolen base season — proof he was still the GOAT, or at least, one of the top current players — seemed within his reach.
His earnestness remains one of his most endearing qualities. The suggestion that he does not want to play in a more demanding market always seemed off to those who know him best, who see how hard he works, who witness his competitive fire. But Trout’s desire to succeed with the Angels instead of somewhere else seemed, to most on the outside, a fanciful notion.
Armed with full no-trade protection, he could have leveraged his way to the Philadelphia Phillies, the team closest to his hometown of Millville, N.J. He could have blended in with a clubhouse full of hungry stars — Bryce Harper, Trea Turner and Kyle Schwarber, Zack Wheeler and Aaron Nola. And he could have been celebrated for escaping a bad situation rather than criticized for staying put.
It didn’t have to be the Phillies. It could have been virtually any contender with payroll flexibility. And it didn’t need to get to the point of a trade. Trout twice signed extensions with the Angels when he could have become a free agent entering his ages 26 and 29 seasons. His loyalty was commendable. But at the moment, he’s looking like a modern equivalent of Ernie Banks, who holds the major-league record for most games played in a career without making the playoffs (2,528).
Banks, playing in an era before free agency, never had the opportunity to choose another team. For most of his career, only the league champions made the playoffs, meeting in the World Series. He was a beloved figure, known as Mr. Cub. He made the Hall of Fame. But to many, there was always something missing, a what-might-have been aspect to his legacy.
Trout, in the wake of his latest injury, is moving into similar territory. More than ever, he seems destined to remain Mr. Angel. As good as his intentions might have been, that’s a very sad thing to say.
(Photo: Paul Rutherford / Getty Images)
Culture
I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You
A famous poet once observed that it is difficult to get the news from poems. The weather is a different story. April showers, summer sunshine and — maybe especially — the chill of winter provide an endless supply of moods and metaphors. Poets like to practice a double meteorology, looking out at the water and up at the sky for evidence of interior conditions of feeling.
The inner and outer forecasts don’t always match up. This short poem by Louise Glück starts out cold and stays that way for most of its 11 lines.
And then it bursts into flame.
“Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” comes from Glück’s debut collection, “Firstborn,” which was published in 1968. She wrote the poems in it between the ages of 18 and 23, but they bear many of the hallmarks of her mature style, including an approach to personal matters — sex, love, illness, family life — that is at once uncompromising and elusive. She doesn’t flinch. She also doesn’t explain.
Here, for example, Glück assembles fragments of experience that imply — but also obscure — a larger narrative. It’s almost as if a short story, or even a novel, had been smashed like a glass Christmas ornament, leaving the reader to infer the sphere from the shards.
We know there was a couple with a flat tire, and that a year later at least one of them still has feelings for the other. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re still together, or where they were going with those Christmas presents.
To some extent, those questions can be addressed with the help of biographical clues. The version of “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” that appeared in The Atlantic in 1967 was dedicated to Charles Hertz, a Columbia University graduate student who was Glück’s first husband. They divorced a few years later. Glück, who died in 2023, was never shy about putting her life into her work.
But the poem we are reading now is not just the record of a passion that has long since cooled. More than 50 years after “Firstborn,” on the occasion of receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, Glück celebrated the “intimate, seductive, often furtive or clandestine” relations between poets and their readers. Recalling her childhood discovery of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, she declared her lifelong ardor for “poems to which the listener or reader makes an essential contribution, as recipient of a confidence or an outcry, sometimes as co-conspirator.”
That’s the kind of poem she wrote.
“Confidence” can have two meanings, both of which apply to “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson.” Reading it, you are privy to a secret, something meant for your ears only. You are also in the presence of an assertive, self-possessed voice.
Where there is power, there’s also risk. To give voice to desire — to whisper or cry “I want you” — is to issue a challenge and admit vulnerability. It’s a declaration of conquest and a promise of surrender.
What happens next? That’s up to you.
Culture
Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?
Cold weather can serve as a plot point or emphasize the mood of a scene, and this week’s literary geography quiz highlights the locations of recent novels that work winter conditions right into the story. Even if you aren’t familiar with the book, the questions offer an additional hint about the setting. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.
Culture
From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel
When a writer is praised for having a sense of place, it usually means one specific place — a postage stamp of familiar ground rendered in loving, knowing detail. But Kiran Desai, in her latest novel, “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny,” has a sense of places.
This 670-page book, about the star-crossed lovers of the title and several dozen of their friends, relatives, exes and servants (there’s a chart in the front to help you keep track), does anything but stay put. If “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” were an old-fashioned steamer trunk, it would be papered with shipping labels: from Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), Goa and Delhi; from Queens, Kansas and Vermont; from Mexico City and, perhaps most delightfully, from Venice.
There, in Marco Polo’s hometown, the titular travelers alight for two chapters, enduring one of several crises in their passionate, complicated, on-again, off-again relationship. One of Venice’s nicknames is La Serenissima — “the most serene” — but in Desai’s hands it’s the opposite: a gloriously hectic backdrop for Sonia and Sunny’s romantic confusion.
Their first impressions fill a nearly page-long paragraph. Here’s how it begins.
Sonia is a (struggling) fiction writer. Sunny is a (struggling) journalist. It’s notable that, of the two of them, it is she who is better able to perceive the immediate reality of things, while he tends to read facts through screens of theory and ideology, finding sociological meaning in everyday occurrences. He isn’t exactly wrong, and Desai is hardly oblivious to the larger narratives that shape the fates of Sunny, Sonia and their families — including the economic and political changes affecting young Indians of their generation.
But “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” is about more than that. It’s a defense of the very idea of more, and thus a rebuke to the austerity that defines so much recent literary fiction. Many of Desai’s peers favor careful, restricted third-person narration, or else a measured, low-affect “I.” The bookstores are full of skinny novels about the emotional and psychological thinness of contemporary life. This book is an antidote: thick, sloppy, fleshy, all over the place.
It also takes exception to the postmodern dogma that we only know reality through representations of it, through pre-existing concepts of the kind to which intellectuals like Sunny are attached. The point of fiction is to assert that the world is true, and to remind us that it is vast, strange and astonishing.
See the full list of the 10 Best Books of 2025 here.
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