The Baseball Contract That Saved Andrew Toles

The Baseball Contract That Saved Andrew Toles

The Los Angeles Dodgers haven't seen Andrew Toles on a baseball field since 2018. In the cold, calculating world of professional sports, a player who hasn't suited up in nearly eight years is usually a footnote or a line item in a historical ledger. Most teams cut ties the moment the ROI disappears. They offer a "thoughts and prayers" press release and move on to the next prospect.

The Dodgers didn't do that.

Instead, they've spent more than half a decade renewing Toles' contract every single year. He isn't playing. He isn't practicing. He isn't even in the dugout. He's battling paranoid schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, conditions that led to him being found sleeping behind a FedEx building at Key West International Airport in 2020. By keeping him on the restricted list and signing him to a zero-dollar salary, the Dodgers provide something far more valuable than a paycheck. They provide health insurance.

Why the Dodgers keep signing a player who can't play

It's a move that defies standard "smart" business logic. In a league where every penny of the luxury tax is scrutinized, the Dodgers are intentionally keeping a roster spot occupied for a man who may never pick up a glove again. But they do it because, without that MLB health insurance, Toles’ access to the high-level psychiatric care he needs would likely vanish.

Mental healthcare in the United States is expensive. Long-term residential treatment for severe schizophrenia can cost tens of thousands of dollars a month. For a family trying to manage a loved one's crisis, those costs are a death sentence for financial stability. By renewing his contract annually—a tradition that continued into 2024 and 2025—the Dodgers ensure Toles stays covered under the league’s premium healthcare plan.

They aren't doing this for PR. In fact, the team rarely talks about it. They do it because Andrew Toles is still part of their family, even if he doesn't remember what it's like to hit a leadoff double at Chavez Ravine.

The tragic trajectory of a rising star

To understand why this matters, you have to remember who Andrew Toles was before the darkness set in. He was a spark plug. In 2016, he was the guy who climbed from High-A ball to the Major Leagues in a single season. He was the guy who hit .364 in the NLDS against the Washington Nationals and looked like the future of the Dodgers' outfield.

Then, everything fell apart.

A torn ACL in 2017 was a physical hurdle. But by 2018, things got weird. He was showing up to Spring Training but wasn't himself. He wasn't connecting with teammates. He wasn't focused. He was eventually granted a leave of absence to deal with "personal matters."

Those matters turned out to be a devastating diagnosis. Toles drifted from his family. He drifted from his teammates. He spent time in jails and mental health facilities across at least 20 different states. He was homeless. He was vulnerable. He was exactly the kind of person who gets lost in the American healthcare system.

The contract that isn't a contract

Technically, the contract the Dodgers renew every year for Toles is a formality. It’s a "split contract" that pays him $0. He doesn't take up a 40-man roster spot because he’s on the restricted list. He doesn't count against the payroll. It’s a loophole used for good.

What it does do, however, is keep his MLB medical benefits active. This is something every sports fan should care about. It’s the ultimate example of a massive organization using its leverage and its resources to do something decent when no one is looking.

Most of us think of MLB contracts in terms of millions of dollars and luxury tax brackets. We forget that for a player in a mental health crisis, that contract is a literal lifeline. It’s the difference between Toles being in a secure facility receiving medication and being back on the streets of Florida without a penny to his name.

Why Toles’ father is the unsung hero

We can praise the Dodgers all day, but the real heavy lifting happens in the Toles household. Alvin Toles, Andrew’s father and a former NFL linebacker himself, has been the legal guardian and the one on the front lines. He’s the one who coordinates with the team. He’s the one who manages the medications and the legal battles.

Alvin has been very open about the fact that without the Dodgers’ continued support, the family would be in a very different position. This isn't just about a team paying a bill. It’s about a team saying, "We aren't done with you yet."

It’s also about the fans. Dodgers fans haven't forgotten Andrew Toles. Go to any forum or social media thread about the team's spring training roster moves, and you'll see people asking if Toles was renewed. It’s become a badge of honor for the fanbase. They don’t want him back to win a World Series. They want him back so he can be okay.

A blueprint for professional sports

What the Dodgers are doing should be the gold standard for every major sports franchise. In the NFL, players are often discarded the moment their bodies or minds fail them. The NBA is getting better with mental health support, but the Dodgers’ commitment to Toles is on another level because it has lasted so long.

They aren't just helping him for a year or two. They’ve committed to this for the long haul. It shows that an organization can have a soul. It proves that a team can care about a human being’s well-being more than their batting average.

Most people think of the Dodgers as a "big market" team with an "infinite" payroll. They think of them as the team that signs Shohei Ohtani to a $700 million deal. But the most important contract they sign every year is the $0 one they give to a guy who probably doesn't even know his old jersey number.

What it means for the future of mental health in sports

The Toles situation highlights a massive gap in how we handle retired or injured athletes. Once the spotlight fades, the support often fades with it. If Toles wasn't a former Major Leaguer with a team that actually cared, he’d be just another statistic in the homeless crisis.

The Dodgers' model of using the restricted list and contract renewals to maintain health benefits is a strategy other teams should adopt. It’s a low-cost, high-impact way to protect former employees who are struggling with life-altering illnesses.

It’s easy to be cynical about professional sports. It’s easy to see it as a meat grinder that uses up young men and spits them out. But every spring, when the Dodgers quietly renew Andrew Toles' contract, that cynicism takes a backseat.

Keeping the support system alive

Andrew Toles' journey isn't over. Schizophrenia isn't something you "fix" or "cure" so you can go back to hitting home runs. It’s a daily, lifelong battle. Some days are better than others. Some years are better than others.

The Dodgers aren't just paying for medicine. They're paying for a safety net. They're making sure that if things get bad again, the Toles family doesn't have to worry about how they're going to pay for the hospital stay.

They are doing the right thing. It’s as simple as that. And in a world where "doing the right thing" is often sacrificed at the altar of efficiency, that’s something worth talking about.

If you want to support athletes like Andrew Toles, start by shifting how you talk about mental health in sports. Stop calling players "busts" when they disappear from the lineup. Stop assuming every absence is about money or laziness. Behind every jersey is a human being who might be fighting a battle you can’t see.

The next step for any fan is simple. Follow the Toles story, not for the drama, but for the reminder that empathy matters. If a multi-billion dollar corporation can find a way to take care of one of its own, we can find a way to be a little more patient with the people in our lives who are struggling. Keep the conversation going about mental health resources and demand that your favorite teams treat their players with the same dignity the Dodgers have shown Andrew Toles.

KF

Kenji Flores

Kenji Flores has built a reputation for clear, engaging writing that transforms complex subjects into stories readers can connect with and understand.