I’ve never been much of a baseball fan. But when the Toronto Blue Jays made it to the World Series this year, I couldn’t help but start paying attention. Like many Canadians, I hoped they would go all the way. Though I was disappointed by their loss, I found myself unexpectedly inspired by their opponent, the Los Angeles Dodgers.
The more I learned about the Dodgers, the more intrigued I became—not simply by their sheer talent, but by the kind of values the team embodies which have influenced their success. At the center of that story is one remarkable player: Shohei Ohtani. His extraordinary contract decision has come to define the Dodgers’ spirit this season.
When I first heard that Ohtani deferred nearly 97% of his $700 million contract, I thought it had to be a rumor. Although deferred payment structures are somewhat common, who in the world, especially in professional sports, would willingly give up hundreds of millions of dollars now to receive it decades later?
But it’s true. Ohtani’s 10-year, $700 million deal with the Dodgers is structured so that about $680 million will be paid out only after the contract ends. During his playing years, he’ll receive just $2 million annually, a fraction of what his peers earn. While Ohtani is already wealthy, it is the largest deferral in the history of professional sports and completely unprecedented for a player of his stature.
By doing this, Ohtani gave the Dodgers something more powerful than cash: capacity. His choice freed up hundreds of millions in payroll space, allowing the team to recruit other top players and deepen its roster. That flexibility enabled them to sign Yoshinobu Yamamoto—who would go on to become the World Series MVP—and to retain key stars like Mookie Betts, Freddie Freeman, and Tyler Glasnow.
For Ohtani, what mattered most wasn’t his own immediate gain, but the success of the team as a whole. By setting aside his personal interests for the good of the team, Ohtani was pursuing something greater—a legacy built not on individual glory, but on shared success.
This strategy proved invaluable. In the decisive Game 7, even one of the greatest players of his generation—some would say of “all” time—struggled. Ohtani gave up three runs early to Toronto and was pulled in the third inning as a pitcher, leaving his teammates to carry the game forward. Yet others rose to the challenge, with Yamamoto stepping in to pitch brilliantly and close out the win. Ohtani’s deferral wasn’t just a financial decision—it was a reflection of his understanding of a deeper, humbler truth: even the greatest player cannot win alone. True success requires trust, teamwork, and sacrifice.
This truth runs deep, not only in sports, but in business, politics, economics, and life. Greatness is never built on one individual’s success, charisma, or ambition, but through people choosing to see and work together for something greater than themselves.
This is what Wendell Berry explores in his essay “Two Economies.” He contrasts the Lesser Economy — measured by speed, efficiency, and quarterly profit — with the Greater Economy, where the true measure of success is wholeness, community, and renewal. More fully, Wendell calls the Greater Economy the Kingdom of God. In other words, the Greater Economy reflects and embodies the story of that Kingdom, a story rooted in the grand biblical narrative of redemption that runs from creation to consummation, from the first garden to the final garden-city of God. Berry argues that when we choose to live and work according to the ways of this Greater Economy, organizations and even societies become stronger, more sustainable, and capable of creating enduring legacies and mutual flourishing.
Those of us who know Jesus as our Lord and Savior have the daily opportunity to participate in life according to the principles of the Greater Economy. We may not have $700 Million to mull over, but we have been given gifts that we can steward for God’s Kingdom, and the greatest gift of all in our salvation. There is no “one-size-fits-all” for the ways we approach stewardship, but God gives wisdom to those who seek it (James 1:5). Processing our perspectives with community, especially community grounded in Christ, can grow us to become more like the one who gave it all for us.
Ohtani’s decision gives us something to ponder. Though his choice may or may not arise from Christian faith, it nevertheless points to a deeper truth: true greatness belongs to those willing to wait, to invest in the whole from which mutual prosperity and lasting legacies are born. And perhaps—in this messy middle marked by the Fall, in the in-between times of the now and the not yet—this is what we all long for: a world shaped, even just a little more, by the economics of the Kingdom. A Kingdom where each calling is truer to its vocation, seeking the shalom and mutual prosperity of the world as it was meant to be in the first garden, and serving as an honest signpost of what someday will be in the final garden-city to come, when our Lord will be all in all.
Editor’s Note: This is an expanded version of an article first published on Paul’s blog, and has been lightly edited for clarity.
Photo Credit: Tim Gouw. Pexels, 2017.