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MLB When the Phillies ate $20 million on Thursday and released Nick Castellanos, a two-time All-Star with 250 career home runs, it was an admission that the relationship was irrevocably broken. Mitchell Layton / Getty Images The beginning of the end for Nick Castellanos’ time in Philadelphia came on the night when the $100 million outfielder cracked open a Presidente beer and carried the green bottle into the Phillies dugout in the middle of a game. It was a Monday in June, in the eighth inning, and Castellanos believed he had been disrespected at the highest level. Advertisement Removed for defensive purposes in a game against the Miami Marlins, played in his hometown with family and friends in the seats, Castellanos directed his ire at Phillies coaches. The beer served as a prop. If not in the game, Castellanos was on vacation. He yelled at the coaches and manager Rob Thomson while teammates watched. Two players who were not on the field at that time, Kyle Schwarber and J. T. Realmuto, intervened. They tried to usher Castellanos out of sight before cameras could capture a player drinking a beer in an active dugout. Howie Kendrick, the former longtime big leaguer and now a Phillies special assistant, attempted to be a peacemaker by snatching the beer. They urged the right fielder to cool down and discuss the issue after the game ended. It was only a two-run game, and the Phillies, who were still in the contest, had to secure a victory. Castellanos ranted more to Thomson before disappearing into the clubhouse. The unprofessional outburst hung in the dugout air as the Phillies finished a win without Castellanos. Even before that June 16 incident, many teammates had come to resent Castellanos for his attitude. When the Phillies ate $20 million on Thursday and released Castellanos, a two-time All-Star with 250 career home runs, it was an admission that the relationship was irrevocably broken. Castellanos, who turns 34 in March, was not a productive player in 2025. His . 694 OPS ranked 123rd among 145 qualified hitters and his minus-0. 6 f WAR was 145th. The Phillies tried for months to trade him but were unable to find a taker. It was a transaction that reflected a complicated relationship that unraveled over four seasons. The Athletic reported this story based on conversations with more than a dozen Phillies players, staff members and officials, who were all granted anonymity to speak freely. Advertisement Castellanos was offered an opportunity, through his agent Gene Mato, on Thursday morning to respond to this story before the Phillies made the transaction. He instead posted a handwritten letter to Instagram five minutes before the Phillies officially released him. He thanked the Phillies, his teammates and fans while confirming the dugout incident. “I love this game, I love being a teammate and I am addicted to winning, ” Castellanos wrote. “I will learn from this. ” During Castellanos’ tenure, everyone with the Phillies was accustomed to him expressing his opinion; most always knew what he was thinking. “That’s Nick, ” they would say, and they tolerated it because an MLB clubhouse is a place filled with egos — sometimes eccentric ones. Castellanos strived to be different. But something changed that night in Miami when, in the eyes of Castellanos’ teammates, a line had been crossed. “You can’t disrespect the manager and talk to him the way he did, ” one Phillies player said. “You can’t expect it all to be the same after that. ” From the moment he came to Philadelphia in March 2022, Castellanos detected what he perceived as disrespect toward him. He was a star player who joined a roster filled with bigger stars, a challenging dynamic. Castellanos fought for himself when he did not think he was being treated like a star. He endured the first prolonged struggles of a successful career. He did not wish to return to the Phillies in 2026 if it was as a part-time player. He bristled when he thought other teammates were afforded more luxuries. The Phillies did not see it that way; they believed they had gone to great lengths to create a comfortable environment for Castellanos — something team officials knew was important to him. His oldest son, Liam, was a frequent presence on the field and in the clubhouse before games. Other clubs might have been more proactive in platooning Castellanos or removing him for defense well before the Phillies attempted it. Advertisement After the episode in Miami, Thomson benched Castellanos for a game; the Phillies debated a suspension because Castellanos had violated a Major League Baseball rule by having an open container of alcohol in the dugout during a game. They decided against it. But that was not the end because Castellanos started 30 consecutive games following his one-day punishment. Players questioned why Thomson and Dave Dombrowski, the club’s president of baseball operations, were essentially letting Castellanos call his shots. Team officials held exhaustive meetings to determine the best way to handle the situation without allowing it to become a distraction. The Phillies needed Castellanos less after trading for outfielder Harrison Bader in July, but they still needed him. In the clubhouse, as prominent players distanced themselves from Castellanos, everyone agreed to play nice. It was easier for some than others. Many had a difficult time overcoming what they believed was an unforgivable act committed by Castellanos. For months, many of Castellanos’ teammates had a running debate. They could not consider him a “bad teammate” because there were so many instances of Castellanos doing thoughtful things. He extended advice to younger players. He offered space in his home for call-ups if they needed it. He worked. He was level-headed on the field, an example for everyone. He rushed to Orion Kerkering’s side in the aftermath of a season-ending mistake in Game 4 of the National League Division Series at Dodger Stadium. It was his last act on the field with the Phillies. But Castellanos, many of his teammates argued, was not a team player. This was an important distinction to make. His candor, appreciated by some because there was never any guessing about where Castellanos stood, was not for everyone. A team player, Phillies sources said, would have understood that late-inning defensive substitutions were not necessarily an indictment of his abilities. The team had a better chance to win that game with a defensive upgrade. A team player, Phillies sources said, would not play music from his own portable speaker if he personally had a good game after a Phillies loss. Numerous players had grievances with management regarding strategy or usage; these were usually expressed in private settings. Castellanos was different. He was most outward with his disdain for two people, Thomson and hitting coach Kevin Long. He did not trust them, he told teammates, because they had never played in the majors. Advertisement In September, Castellanos appeared on Mookie Betts’ podcast, “On Base with Mookie Betts, ” and reiterated his stance in general terms. “The only opinions that I honestly care about are (from) the ones that have carried the stick, ” Castellanos said. “The ones that have put on the gloves and put on the cleats. ” Castellanos’ distrust stemmed from the start of his time with the Phillies in 2022. He was coming off a career season — a . 939 OPS in 2021 with 34 homers and 38 doubles for the Cincinnati Reds — and was rewarded with a five-year contract. But he struggled in his first three months with Philadelphia. He was booed. The Phillies had suggested changes; they wanted Castellanos to reel in his free-swinging ways. It alienated Castellanos, who felt he had a certain status that was being questioned. His new team told him everything he was doing was wrong. Often, his feelings were tied to his place in Thomson’s lineup. He hit seventh on Opening Day in 2024; Castellanos believed he had earned a middle-of-the-order spot and that he should not have to prove he was worthy of one again. He was a hitter who relied more on feel and less on mechanics or approach. He did not think he could succeed with a passive mindset at the plate. He hit . 173/. 242/. 218 in the first 30 days of the 2024 season. Thomson kept playing him. By the end of the season, Castellanos finished with a . 742 OPS, a few ticks above league average and a respectable figure considering how his season started. He became the oldest Phillies player to take part in all 162 games in a season since Pete Rose in 1982. He was one of the few Phillies who produced in a disappointing four-game defeat to the New York Mets in the 2024 NLDS. He batted seventh again on Opening Day 2025. On the ground level, some believed a disproportionate amount of time and energy had been spent to make Castellanos comfortable and happy. By August, he started to lose playing time. The lines were drawn. Advertisement Castellanos’ preference, from the beginning of his free agency, was a long-term contract with the Miami Marlins. It was home. It would allow him to see Liam, who mostly lives there with his mother,  during the season. He could have family in the stands every night. So, in 2022, once MLB’s owner-imposed lockout ended, Castellanos had directed his agent, Scott Boras, to seek the most money possible — but also to find him a home in a comfortable market. The Marlins were not willing to spend. The Phillies were. But they satisfied only one of Castellanos’ stipulations — and a $100 million deal in Philadelphia came with certain expectations. It was the second-largest contract for a Phillies outfielder ever and a sum that pushed the Phillies into luxury-tax penalties for the first time in franchise history. It was a big contract in a big market with lots of attention. No other team was willing to meet the offer Dombrowski made. In the hours before Castellanos agreed to the deal, league sources said, he implored his agency to find another club that would offer the same terms. But Philadelphia was his best chance to make generational money and play for a winner. Last September, on Betts’ podcast, the discussion turned to handling the pressure of playing in a big market. Betts said it was “a beautiful thing, something that you definitely have to embrace. ” Still, there was a downside. “You almost fall out of love with the game a little bit, ” Betts said. “Because it’s like, I wasn’t playing the game for all this extra pressure. I was playing because I love it. That’s how I view the pressure situations. But being in it, man, I wouldn’t change that for the world. I think the best place to play baseball is with some type of pressure component to it. ” “Well, ” Castellanos said, “I think the best place to play baseball is just a place where you’re in love with. Just being in a place where whatever source of inspiration is making you go out and allow all of your emotions to come out while you’re playing so you’re really engaged in the moment, is what’s going to be the most beneficial. ” Yeah, Betts said. Advertisement “Because, ” Castellanos said, “a lot of times people will go to the big markets because they’re chasing that big contract. They think money is the answer. That’s another reason why they’ll fall out of love, right? Because they were somebody with an environment. Right? There was a feeling of who they were as a baseball player. They achieved so much and, as a reward, they wanted all of this financial security. They go somewhere else. And now you’re starting over from scratch and you don’t have that luxury of finding yourself when you’re getting paid millions and millions of dollars. ” In 2024, Castellanos fired Boras. He decided to represent himself for more than a year. An hour after the Phillies won the 2025 NL East title, Castellanos was shirtless and alone. He had spent a little time inside the raucous visitors’ clubhouse at Dodger Stadium as his teammates celebrated. Then he found a spot outside on a padded wall next to the dugout and sat. He puffed on a cigar. All of his teammates and coaches were inside. Castellanos would later say nothing was worth celebrating unless it was a World Series title, a buzzy soundbite that papered over the clubhouse acrimony. By September, the veteran outfielder had very few teammates in his corner. It became harder to remember the good times. And there were good times — the two-homer October night against Spencer Strider top among them. In four seasons with the Phillies, Castellanos posted a 100 OPS+, making him exactly league average at the plate. Castellanos harbored spite; he needed a villain. First, it was Philadelphia. Then, it was Thomson and his coaches. It all culminated with that night in Miami. “I will say, I’m somebody who doesn’t forget anything, ” Castellanos said during the 2022 playoffs. “I’m also somebody who takes everything personally. ” Advertisement About four hours before Game 2 of last year’s NLDS — Castellanos’ final home game — a Phillies coach threw batting practice to Liam while some Dodgers players were on the field doing pregame preparations. Realmuto waited to take early batting practice. The same pregame hitting sessions carried over to Dodger Stadium, where Liam joined his father on the field before more playoff games. The Phillies had entered the series not expecting Castellanos to be a factor; an injury to Bader forced him into action. Castellanos had two hits in 15 at-bats. He drove in the team’s lone run in a heartbreaking, 11-inning defeat in Game 4 that sent the Phillies home. Afterward, he sipped on a beer inside the losing clubhouse as everyone reflected on what was and what was not. By then, there was no love lost. The Phillies knew their marriage with Castellanos was ending. Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms Play today's puzzle Matt Gelb is a senior writer for The Athletic covering the Philadelphia Phillies. He has covered the team since 2010 while at The Philadelphia Inquirer, including a yearlong pause from baseball as a reporter on the city desk. He is a graduate of Syracuse University and Central Bucks High School West.