Clayton Kershaw and the last uniform: a bucket-list night in desert heat
Clayton Kershaw stood in the desert heat in Scottsdale, Arizona on Monday (ET), dressed in a far darker shade of blue than the Dodgers do, and doing the small, unglamorous work that makes a uniform feel real. During Team USA’s first World Baseball Classic workout, Clayton Kershaw ran through pitchers’ fielding practice and shagged fly balls in batting practice, then rushed off the mound to take a throw at first base.
He could have been home with his five kids. Instead, he was back in a jersey with red-and-white piping, testing how it feels to be “in it” again—four months after a night in Toronto that, as it turned out, was not the last time anyone would see him in uniform.
Why is Clayton Kershaw wearing Team USA colors now?
Because, by his own account, the opportunity is rare enough to override everything else. “Feels good, ” he said Monday (ET). “I wouldn’t put on a uniform for anything else. This is a special thing. ” He framed the World Baseball Classic in plain, personal terms: “It’s a bucket list thing for me. ”
There is a particular kind of clarity that comes through when an athlete describes a choice in bucket-list language. It is less about proving something than experiencing it—about letting a long career end with a moment that belongs to more than one clubhouse.
What does this moment say about endings, and how “final” they really are?
The scene in Scottsdale arrives with the weight of a recent “perfect ending” that already looked complete. In his farewell year, the Dodgers won the World Series, becoming baseball’s first back-to-back champions in 25 years. Clayton Kershaw secured a critical out. He bathed in adoration at the championship rally, and he told fans he would be one of them this year.
“I’m going to watch, ” he hollered that day, “just like all of you. ”
Four months later, he was back in uniform anyway—an illustration of how retirement, even when announced with conviction, can have a few loose threads. The World Baseball Classic is one of them: a stage that lets a player step back into competition without rewriting the entire story of stepping away.
How might Team USA use Clayton Kershaw in the World Baseball Classic?
Team USA planned to run a rotation of Tarik Skubal, Paul Skenes, Joe Ryan and Logan Webb. But the shape of tournament pitching can change quickly: Skubal has said he will pitch just once in the tournament, Skenes has said he’ll pitch twice, and Ryan has said he won’t pitch in the first round, at least.
That shifting availability opens a door for responsibility to expand. Clayton Kershaw might be needed beyond the role he was promised: saving the team from using current major league pitchers in blowouts or extra innings. It is not a glamorous assignment, but it is a vital one—exactly the kind of work that can decide a tournament in ways fans rarely anticipate at first pitch.
On the field Monday (ET), his body language fit the role: not chasing a spotlight, but moving through repetitions, taking throws, acting like the job is to be ready if called. The uniform, for him, is not an accessory. It is a commitment, even if the commitment is carefully defined.
Could Clayton Kershaw face Shohei Ohtani in this tournament?
It is at least conceivable, and Clayton Kershaw addressed the idea with a mix of humor and candor. The last World Baseball Classic came down to Shohei Ohtani pitching to Mike Trout. This one could come down to Kershaw pitching to Ohtani.
“I think, for our country’s sake, it’s probably better if I don’t, ” Kershaw said.
Still, he did not present it as something he would avoid. He won’t duck the assignment if he gets it, even if he considers it so unlikely that he is happy to share his game plan publicly. There is also a competitive footnote that adds texture to the hypothetical: in 11 career at-bats against Kershaw, Ohtani has no hits.
Between the light joke and the readiness beneath it is the truest version of what an international tournament can mean for a veteran: not a demand to be the hero, but a willingness to be part of the solution if the moment swings his way.
Back in the desert heat on Monday (ET), the significance of the day was not in a medal count or a prediction about what comes next. It was in the choice to show up—dark blue jersey, red-and-white piping, fielding drills, fly balls, throws to first—when he could have stayed home and simply watched like he promised. Clayton Kershaw’s bucket-list return does not need to rewrite his ending to matter; it only needs to remind everyone, including him, that some final chapters are discovered in the act of putting the uniform back on.
Image caption (alt text): Clayton Kershaw in a dark blue Team USA jersey during World Baseball Classic workout drills in Scottsdale.
