BREAKING: Dodgers weigh locking Roki Sasaki out of World Baseball Classic, forcing loyalty test between healing arm and homeland
The calendar says 2026. The conversation feels timeless.
As the baseball world circles the next edition of the World Baseball Classic, one question refuses to fade: Will Roki Sasaki wear Japan again, or will his major league future keep him home?
The tension is not rumor alone. Multiple reports, including from the Los Angeles Times, have explained that the Dodgers could elect to block Sasaki from WBC participation after a season defined by caution and rehab. He spent significant time on the 60-day injured list last year, and with that history comes leverage the team is legally permitted to use.
The dilemma is uncomfortable because both sides make sense.

For the Dodgers, this is not about pride. It is about prudence. You do not hand a priceless painting to a summer thunderstorm. You glaze it. Humor it. Keep it dry. A pitcher with Sasaki’s velocity and workload history represents not just rotation stability, but organizational gravity. Lose him for a month and you lose rhythm. Lose him for a year and you lose identity.
Yet international baseball is also identity.
Japan does not see Sasaki as a simple arm. He is a promise. A generation watched him arrive in professional baseball like a comet: brilliant, brief, unforgettable. The WBC is the place where those stories converge. Participation is not an invite. It is a calling.
This is the silent collision that sports never resolves cleanly. Clubs argue in muscle memory. Nations argue in heartbeats.
If the Dodgers block Sasaki, they will be applauded in boardrooms for responsibility and criticized in living rooms for restraint. If they allow him, the calculus flips: courage on the calendar, risk in the ledger.
Baseball executives frame this as asset management. Fans frame it as destiny management.
Between the two is a pitcher who does not want to be heroic. He wants to be healthy. But those ambitions do not always share a locker.
The WBC offers narrative oxygen. It swells reputations and compresses them. Every outing is a referendum. Every inning echoes continents. For a pitcher rehabilitating not just tendon but timing, the tournament is a stage with trapdoors.
And still.
Ask any player what it means to hear an anthem as a starting pitcher and watch his shoulders rise. Ask any fan what it means to see their flag on a scoreboard four oceans away and watch their voice crack.
This is why the decision hurts before it helps.
The Dodgers have not announced a position. They are measuring, listening, and calculating, as all modern clubs do. Japan waits, as only a baseball country can, patient and loud at the same time.
Soon, a door will close or open.
If it closes, it will be called protection.
If it opens, it will be called faith.
For Roki Sasaki, it will simply be another pitch.
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