Padres face onslaught of social media hate, often fueled by gambling

Fernando Tatis Jr. sees the messages when he opens social media.

I hope you die.

I hope your family dies.

I hope your kids die.

He does what he can to make them disappear. He blocks the sender. Deletes the message. Avoids unknown accounts. Ignores.

But like gnats, they return the next hour, dozens at a time.

“You really don’t try to pay attention to it,” Tatis said. “But at the same time, in the back of your head, you’re like, ‘Wow. People are really wishing death to yourself and to your family.’ And it’s pretty (messed) up. It’s not fun. It’s not fun at all.”

This is the new reality of baseball: fueled by gambling, intensified by social media and propelled by a cultural shift that shows no signs of slowing.

Threats are nothing new in professional sports. NFL players have been dealing with this for decades, mainly due to fantasy football and the rise of accessibility with social media.

Now it’s come to baseball.

“It’s 100% the norm,” said reliever Jason Adam. “It’s kind of the running joke. If we have a bad game, it’s like, ‘Well, gonna get some interesting ones tonight.’”

More than a dozen players, from current minor leaguers to superstars, were interviewed for this story. Every one of them receives hate messages. Every one tries to brush them off. They block. Delete. Set up hidden folders. Avoid unknowns.

Still, the vitriol seeps in.

It’s become normalized. Players are desensitized to it, to a point.

It’s part of the job, they say.

After all, social media is a choice. But should the cost of engaging, building your brand or connecting with fans be this high?

“A lot of it, I probably don’t see,” said Padres pitcher Joe Musgrove. “But if I’m looking for (a certain message), I’m weeding through them, and I’ll find some that I don’t want to see. But ultimately … these people are behind a keyboard. You never see their face. I tend not to value the opinions of people that don’t know anything about me. Stick to the people that I know and care about.”

Yet, it can be draining. Even the thickest skin can’t always deflect a message that slips through a hidden folder or pops up as a comment, especially during a slump or after a tough game. It starts to feel like death by a thousand paper cuts.

“To me, it really started happening after 2020,” Tatis said. “It’s constant. People just wishing us death to ourselves, to our family. This is the new thing, I guess.

“It’s part of the new baseball era … These are not real fans, definitely. Or people that generally care for you. So you just try to disappear them from your life.

“I wish they can come and say it to my face to see if we will have the same result.”

New normal

Across clubhouses, players and coaches say the world itself seems angrier. Some feel the lines of basic human decency have eroded.

In June, a fan at Rate Field in Chicago taunted the Arizona Diamondbacks’ Ketel Marte about his deceased mother. Marte was seen in tears on the field.

MLB identified and banned the fan indefinitely, but most cases aren’t that clear-cut.

“I think when we put on our uniform, we know that we’re going to take a ration of (stuff) at different points in time in different parks, and sometimes from your home fans,” said Arizona Diamondbacks manager Torey Lovullo.

“We know when we deserve it and we’re willing to accept that. But there’s this whole new dynamic called social media that can be ruthless and fairly vicious at times, and at the end of the day, we’re just human beings. We have feelings.

“Sometimes when you hear something, you’re able to cycle through it and just say, ‘Oh, that guy has no idea. He’s drunk and he’s in the stands.’ But when there’s a theme and you start to see that theme over and over and over again, those things sit with you, and these players have a tough time digesting that. It’s tough to get out of that.

“We know what we signed up for. But I feel like at times, the social media aspect of it is taking it to a whole new level that nobody knows how to interpret.”

Earlier this year, Padres infielder Tyler Wade received a message so vile he took a screenshot out of pure shock.

“It was the worst message I’ve ever gotten,” said Wade, who preferred not to go into detail. “There was pure evil behind it.”

Wade, now at Triple-A El Paso, recalls striking out with the bases loaded in San Francisco against Logan Webb.

“After the game, I got some (stuff), but go face Logan Webb and tell me how easy it is,” Wade said. “I just think people are entitled. They look at us as like a performer rather than a human. It’s like, you don’t think we’re trying to do our best?”

Wade doesn’t tag his family much in posts, fearing they’ll be targeted.

“I tell them, ‘I’m protecting you. I don’t want you to see the dark side of all this stuff. Because if they can’t get to me, they’re gonna go to you, and I don’t want you to see that because then you’re going to be scared for your child’s life,’” Wade said. “It’s just unnecessary. I guess it comes with the territory. It’s unfortunate that people stoop that low. But those people have no lives, so they don’t have an effect on me.”

The worst messages arrive from anonymous accounts.

“There’s only a handful that actually message me from their real accounts,” Wade said. “It’s usually a fake account. So it’s just words. But I mean, it hurts, right? … The best way I can say it is, (imagine) you work at T-Mobile and I’m just standing in your ear, telling you how much you suck. Or, ‘Hey, I’m gonna kill your mom.’ I want to know what (you) would do.”

Earlier in his career, the harassment hit harder. The negativity was a big part of why Wade started his clothing line, Giving Yourself Flowers, that focuses on positive mental health.

“In 2017 and 2018, I went through a lot,” Wade said. “I was reading them. I didn’t know how to filter them out. And it sticks in your head for a while. You start to believe it. But the older I get, I’m like, ‘OK, bro, say it again.’  Like, you know where I’m at. Come say it to (my face). Meet me at 100 Park Boulevard. I’ll be more than happy to talk to you outside.”

But almost no one ever does. If they do approach or engage, it’s usually to apologize — or ask for an autograph.

It’s a small subset of fandom that takes it too far, and players hesitate to even call these people “fans.”

“They’re just trolls,” said Adam.

He receives his fair share.

“Everything from the harmless ‘Retire, you’re worthless’ to some people who take it too far and are like, ‘I hope your daughter dies in a car crash,’” Adam said. “Most people are just, like, mildly annoying. Then there’s a few that take it way too far.”

“(My wife) hates them worse,” he added. “I kind of know what I signed up for. They’re harder when they start reaching out to the wives and bringing up kids’ names and stuff. To me, that’s way too far.”

Changing times

Lovullo played in the big leagues from 1988 to 1999, before the age of smartphones, social media and 24/7 sports coverage. Players operated with far less public scrutiny than they do in today’s hyper-connected world.

“It’s a ‘now’ society,” Lovullo said. “Information is exchanged in one second. Then you’ve got the gambling portion of it that I’m sure is a real thing. … I remember talking to one of our young players in Atlanta. He made a couple of errors and he woke up the next day and came to the ballpark for a day game, and he said he had a couple death threats that morning. It was the first time that’s ever happened to him.

“How do you prepare a young player for that? How do you talk to somebody about that? You can’t just say, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ So it’s a whole new frontier for us.

“Yeah, there are death threats,” he said. “I get them too.”

Padres outfielder Gavin Sheets uses social media but said he doesn’t check direct messages. He also limits who can comment on his posts.

“I think you can find whatever you want to find, whether it’s good or bad,” he said. “My message always to young guys when they (come) up is, ‘Don’t go looking for that stuff.’ Don’t check social media when you’re going well and don’t check it when you’re going poorly. Because you’re gonna find reasons why you’re the best player and you’re gonna find reasons why you’re the worst player.”

Musgrove believes players bear some responsibility.

“I feel like it’s a cop-out at times for some people,” he said. “Some people are down bad about their performance. And we’ll use that stuff as like, ‘Oh, poor me, poor me.’ Not to say that it’s right, but we’re professional athletes. A big part of the game is being able to deal with that.”

Still, the effects of constant online negativity are well documented: anxiety, depression, even suicidal ideation. Mental health professionals do not dismiss those dangers, even for elite professional athletes.

“I think it’s a matter of two things,” Manny Machado said. “It’s a matter of social media, right? You have so much access, and you’re kind of just sitting behind the screen, so you can write whatever you want. And two, obviously, the gambling situation. Now you can gamble on baseball in most of the states that you go. So that’s going to come with the territory.

“But it just kind of sucks that these messages (are sent) to people and their families, and now we have to kind of start doing things that we’re not really accustomed to. Not trying to leave your home. You gotta look over your shoulder. It kind of just feels unsafe at times. And it shouldn’t even get to that point.”

The gambling element

Major League Baseball, like other major sports leagues, has embraced a once-taboo partner: gambling.

Partnerships with DraftKings, FanDuel and MGM Resorts International, among others, have become big business. While current revenue is reportedly estimated in the hundreds of millions, industry projections suggest it could eventually surpass $1 billion annually when accounting for both direct and indirect revenue streams.

Online sports betting has exploded in states where it is legal. It’s easier to access, slicker in design and gamified to the point where anyone, nearly anywhere, anytime, can place a bet from their phone.

Sports gambling is illegal in California with the exception of horse racing.

Elsewhere, ads are constant. Odds and prop bets are integrated into some live broadcasts. At Wrigley Field, a full-fledged DraftKings Sportsbook sits just outside the stadium, complete with betting kiosks and betting windows. Inside, a massive video board scrolls betting lines alongside scores and headlines.

At Chase Field in Arizona, Caesars Sportsbook is operated by Caesars Entertainment, which has a multi-year agreement with MLB as an Authorized Gaming Operator. The Diamondbacks’ website highlights Chase Field as the “first MLB stadium to allow sports fans to place an in-person wager,” which can be done at specific ticket windows.

Fans can bet on wins and losses, or even whether the next pitch will be a ball or a strike or the next at-bat will result in a hit.

“I don’t understand how they do it like that, and then they want you to don’t (gamble),” one player said. “You’re kind of like enticing me.”

The line between the field and the sportsbook is thinner than ever — and it’s being crossed.

Last year, Padres infielder Tucupita Marcano received a lifetime ban after placing nearly 400 bets on baseball, a clear violation of league rules. Four minor leaguers, including Padres prospect Jay Groome, received year-long suspensions for similar infractions.

MLB is currently investigating Cleveland Guardians pitchers Emmanuel Clase and Luis Ortiz for betting activity tied to specific pitches.

Today’s players aren’t just athletes, they’re investments. As betting expands, the stakes feel higher. The accessibility, money and culture have created a more charged environment.

The messages players receive on social media reflect that.

“We don’t hit the bet that cashes them out, so they’re pissed,” Musgrove said.

Jackson Merrill catches it on his phone and hears it in the outfield.

“These people don’t know who I am,” Merrill said. “(They) might see me as a baseball player who ruined (their) parlay, but…”

Merrill shrugged.

“It doesn’t even matter if you do good or bad,” he said. “I robbed a home run the other day. There are people in the outfield screaming, “(Eff) you! You ruined my parlay!’ It doesn’t matter what you do, good or bad. People are going to be mad at you for it.”

Asked if most of the hate he receives is tied to gambling, Merrill didn’t hesitate: “100%.”

Xander Bogaerts understands the intensity. He gambles in places where it’s legal — and never on baseball, Bogaerts said repeatedly; he is clear on the rules. He’s received more hate since gambling became more accessible.

“’I hope you die in a car accident,’ you name it, I’ve seen it all,” Bogaerts said.  “Obviously, when you’re not playing the way they want, I get (the messages), but I think a lot has to do with the betting. Like, ‘Oh, you lost the parlay for me.’ I mean, I know. I bet parlays, too. Sometimes I’m like, ‘Oh, you missed my free throw.’”

It was pointed out to Bogaerts that he probably doesn’t message that athlete and threaten to kill his dog.

“Hell no,” he said. “But I’m in a little different position. Maybe (the gambler) is counting on that for rent. I don’t know. But still, it’s no place for them to do that.”

Sometimes, the absurdity lands with humor. Venmo requests — “You owe me $200!” — make him laugh. So do some of the more ill-advised bets.

Recently, someone direct messaged Bogaerts in Papiamento, his native language. Thinking it was someone he knew, he responded.

“This was when I was struggling with (hitting),” said Bogaerts, who was hitting .266 with a .712 OPS at the All-Star break. “He said, ‘You messed up for me. I needed you to get two hits and you didn’t.’”

Bogaerts laughed.

“I was like, ‘I’m gonna be honest with you,’” he said. “Why the (hell) did you even bet on me? Aren’t you seeing the way I’m playing? I mean, I can’t buy a hit.’

“I can’t buy one. He wanted two.”

Bogaerts brushed it off.

“At the end of the day, you can do whatever you want,” he said. “He can say whatever he wants. He’s not causing any harm to me physically. I can’t control what they’re saying. I think if you start worrying about that, that would be a lot.”

Kristina Johnson, wife of former Padres pitcher Pierce Johnson, is used to being targeted on social media after a rough night on the mound for her husband.

“The messages have gotten worse with sports betting,” she said. “But I’ve never had a (Braves) fan message me. It’s always been some sort of bookie or just a random guy placing bets.”

Last year, Pierce Johnson — pitching with the Braves — received a message so disturbing that it was forwarded to MLB, which worked with law enforcement to trace the sender’s IP address. The Johnsons ultimately chose not to press charges out of fear that pursuing the case would expose personal details and put their family’s safety at risk.

Players are aware that gambling brings money into the league. But how much entanglement, if any, is appropriate?

“Man, I would say (gambling) is a sin, right?” Machado said. “It’s not a healthy thing to do. But it just is what it is. Yeah, we see it. I think it’s getting out of hand with everyone.

“MLB, I hope they can figure it out and put some security with it. Because you’re gonna allow this, right? It’s bringing a lot of money to the game. But at the same time, how about the players?”

The human aspect

It is not uncommon for fans to point out that players make a lot of money. They can afford therapy. They can hire private security. If the online abuse is too much, they can always delete social media.

All of that is true. But the more pressing question might be: How much of this are we willing to normalize?

This is uncharted territory. No one knows how deep the bottom goes.

What can — or should — be done? Are leagues and teams doing enough? Should players be better protected? There are no easy answers.

“I hope one day it’s censored, and I figure that there’s a really good policy to have that happen,” Lovullo said. “But today’s player has to endure. Today’s player has a hell of a lot more to deal with than the player of my generation. I don’t know how they do it, and I admire him for doing it.”

Awareness, at the very least, is a starting point.

“I think the more people talk about it and the more people realize that it’s not OK, it should help slow it down,” Adam said. “I don’t know what baseball could do. … (People are) just being mean. That’s kind of their freedom to do that, which sucks. But I mean, that’s not just baseball, it’s life.

“It’s a reminder that yes, we have an awesome job. We love our job, but we’re also humans. It’s easy to dehumanize athletes but at the end of the day, we’re just humans trying to do a good job at our job. And every once in a while, we’ll stink.”