Gleyber Torres says the quiet part out loud about Tigers’ September slide

There’s a reason Gleyber Torres didn’t try to dress it up.

When the Detroit Tigers’ historic September collapse came up in conversation with Evan Petzold of the Detroit Free Press, Torres didn't reach for platitudes about “learning experiences” or “the process.” He didn't talk about unlucky bounces or running into hot teams. He just told the honest truth:

“We were playing really bad baseball.”

That matters — because it’s honest. And because honesty is the only place the Tigers can actually start fixing what went wrong.

Torres could’ve taken the easy road. Teams do it all the time after late-season fades. They reframe the slide as growth. They point to injuries. They call it adversity that will “pay dividends later.” Instead, Torres planted a flag.

September wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t misunderstood. It wasn’t unfair. It was bad baseball. Full stop.

And coming from a veteran who just bet on himself — again — by accepting the qualifying offer instead of chasing a long-term deal that wasn’t there, that candor hits harder. This wasn’t a player protecting future leverage. This was a player owning the moment he lived through.

Gleyber Torres was refreshingly honest in his assessment of the Tigers' disastrous second half in 2025

Torres also didn’t hide behind his body breaking down. A sports hernia. Other issues. A clear drop-off in performance after an excellent first half. He acknowledged all of it — and still refused to excuse the outcome.

“I knew I couldn’t be at 100%,” he said. “But… I wanted to compete with my team.”

That sentence cuts two ways. On one hand, it’s leadership. On the other, it’s an indictment of how thin the Tigers’ margin was when things started going sideways. A contender shouldn’t need an injured leadoff hitter to gut it out just to stay afloat. When one compromised bat at the top of the lineup sends everything spiraling, that’s not toughness — that’s fragility.

The Tigers didn’t fall apart because of one injury or one cold streak. September exposed what had been lurking underneath all summer: an offense that relied too heavily on a few on-base engines, lineups that stopped controlling the zone when pressure mounted, and a team that pressed instead of simplifying.

Torres’ second-half numbers tell the story plainly. Pitchers challenged him more. He didn’t punish mistakes. Walks and contact replaced damage — admirable survival, but not enough to prop up a lineup that was already wobbling.

Calling it “bad baseball” isn’t harsh. It’s accurate. And accuracy is accountability.

In retaining Torres for 2026, the Tigers retained a standard. He’s not promising bounce-back narratives or moral victories. He’s telling us exactly what can’t happen again. September can’t be rebranded as “experience.” It has to be corrected.

Contenders don’t sugarcoat collapses. They diagnose them. Torres did that for everyone — players, coaches, front office, fans — in one blunt sentence. No spin. No excuses. Just the truth the Tigers needed to hear.