PHILADELPHIA -- On a back field in Clearwater last spring — the kind with no scoreboard, no music, and no one watching except a few coaches and a curious seagull — Justin Crawford spent 20 straight minutes running route drills under a sun so hot it felt like the grass might liquefy. Over and over he chased down balls that were intentionally hit just beyond his reach. Over and over, he flashed speed that didn’t look coached so much as inherited.
That was the first hint of why the Phillies believed he could be their center fielder someday.
The second hint? That “someday” now might be defined as Opening Day, 2026.
Crawford is no longer a whisper in prospect circles. He’s a headline, a roster question, and—whether he wants it or not—a potential solution for a team that expects to contend from the first pitch of March to the last pitch of October. And the Phillies’ outfield picture is suddenly clear in one important way: there’s room, and Crawford can take it if he proves he’s ready.
One evaluator who watched him extensively last season put it this way:
“If he ever starts lifting the ball consistently, look out. Everything else already plays.”
That’s the big-league equation right there. His Triple-A performance in 2025 was loud — a .334 average, 46 steals, and on-base skills that turned heads in scouting departments from Tampa to Tacoma. His contact rate was elite. His sprint speed bordered on comic. When he reached base, it changed the geometry of the field instantly.
But this is where the Phillies’ optimism meets the subtle world of baseball reality: minor-league ground balls aren’t major-league hits, and Crawford hits a lot of ground balls. A whole lot. Enough that the Phillies have spent two winters talking to him about adjusting his attack angle and selectively driving pitches he once simply tried to beat out.
One scout summed it up perfectly:
“You love the athlete. You love the bat-to-ball. But big-league infielders will swallow some of those hits whole.”
And then there’s the defense. Crawford looks like a center fielder. He glides like one. He runs like he’s late for a flight and every gate is in another terminal. But he’s also 21, still ironing out route efficiency, and still learning how to read balls that carry differently at big-league spin rates. That’s not a red flag — that’s what happens when you’re very young and very fast and suddenly trying to solve a much harder puzzle.
It’s worth remembering the Phillies haven’t handed a center-field job to someone this young since before smartphones existed. Shane Victorino wasn’t handed anything — he was a Rule 5 gamble. Odúbel Herrera ran into the job, not into a plan. Crawford would be something different: a deliberate, developmental choice.
And the Phillies have made that choice with purpose.
The signing of Adolis García to hold down right field wasn’t accidental. The Phillies built the offseason around the idea that Crawford should get a real opportunity — not a September cameo, not a defensive replacement role, but a chance to win the job outright.
Rob Thomson tends to avoid anointing young players before they earn it, but behind the curtain, there is no mystery. The club wants to see if Crawford can handle 120–130 games. They want to see the dynamic version that terrorizes pitchers, not the developmental version that sometimes looks like he’s trying to remember 12 instructions at once.
And here’s what makes this spring so compelling: they’re not building a safety net beneath him.
If he wins the job, great.
If he loses it, he goes back to Triple-A and tries again.
But they’re not forcing a veteran into the role to block him.
For a contender, that’s a bold choice.
So is he ready? The truthful, baseball-honest answer is this: he’s ready to find out. The tools are there. The approach is maturing. The opportunity has finally arrived. And the Phillies — for once — are willing to let the kid decide the outcome.
Because this spring won’t just reveal who Justin Crawford is.
It’ll reveal whether he’s a prospect… or a solution.
The second hint? That “someday” now might be defined as Opening Day, 2026.
Crawford is no longer a whisper in prospect circles. He’s a headline, a roster question, and—whether he wants it or not—a potential solution for a team that expects to contend from the first pitch of March to the last pitch of October. And the Phillies’ outfield picture is suddenly clear in one important way: there’s room, and Crawford can take it if he proves he’s ready.
One evaluator who watched him extensively last season put it this way:
“If he ever starts lifting the ball consistently, look out. Everything else already plays.”
That’s the big-league equation right there. His Triple-A performance in 2025 was loud — a .334 average, 46 steals, and on-base skills that turned heads in scouting departments from Tampa to Tacoma. His contact rate was elite. His sprint speed bordered on comic. When he reached base, it changed the geometry of the field instantly.
But this is where the Phillies’ optimism meets the subtle world of baseball reality: minor-league ground balls aren’t major-league hits, and Crawford hits a lot of ground balls. A whole lot. Enough that the Phillies have spent two winters talking to him about adjusting his attack angle and selectively driving pitches he once simply tried to beat out.
One scout summed it up perfectly:
“You love the athlete. You love the bat-to-ball. But big-league infielders will swallow some of those hits whole.”
And then there’s the defense. Crawford looks like a center fielder. He glides like one. He runs like he’s late for a flight and every gate is in another terminal. But he’s also 21, still ironing out route efficiency, and still learning how to read balls that carry differently at big-league spin rates. That’s not a red flag — that’s what happens when you’re very young and very fast and suddenly trying to solve a much harder puzzle.
It’s worth remembering the Phillies haven’t handed a center-field job to someone this young since before smartphones existed. Shane Victorino wasn’t handed anything — he was a Rule 5 gamble. Odúbel Herrera ran into the job, not into a plan. Crawford would be something different: a deliberate, developmental choice.
And the Phillies have made that choice with purpose.
The signing of Adolis García to hold down right field wasn’t accidental. The Phillies built the offseason around the idea that Crawford should get a real opportunity — not a September cameo, not a defensive replacement role, but a chance to win the job outright.
Rob Thomson tends to avoid anointing young players before they earn it, but behind the curtain, there is no mystery. The club wants to see if Crawford can handle 120–130 games. They want to see the dynamic version that terrorizes pitchers, not the developmental version that sometimes looks like he’s trying to remember 12 instructions at once.
And here’s what makes this spring so compelling: they’re not building a safety net beneath him.
If he wins the job, great.
If he loses it, he goes back to Triple-A and tries again.
But they’re not forcing a veteran into the role to block him.
For a contender, that’s a bold choice.
So is he ready? The truthful, baseball-honest answer is this: he’s ready to find out. The tools are there. The approach is maturing. The opportunity has finally arrived. And the Phillies — for once — are willing to let the kid decide the outcome.
Because this spring won’t just reveal who Justin Crawford is.
It’ll reveal whether he’s a prospect… or a solution.
Loading Phillies schedule...
Loading NL East standings...
Support the Mission. Fuel the Movement.
You’re not just funding journalism — you’re backing the future of youth baseball in Philly.
👉 Join us on Patreon »