Some warnings come wrapped in coach-speak. Others arrive like a fastball to the ribs. When Kirk Herbstreit raises an eyebrow, baseball should probably sit up straight. And when it’s the Cincinnati Reds he’s praising—yes, those Reds—you know something strange is brewing. Terry Francona may have lit the fuse months ago, but now, the league might be scrambling to locate the fire extinguisher.

The Cincinnati Reds are coming alive at the right time of the season. It’s not like they are rising from the dead, but they are rolling when compared to before. As Terry Francona said after a win against the Giants, they are playing well, getting hits, and the pitching has been top-notch. And to add to Francona’s words, top sportscaster Kirk Herbstreit gives his support to the manager and the team.

In his recent X post, Herbstreit talked about how everything is clicking at the same time for the Reds and why the other teams should not take this lightly. “Fun to watch this @reds line up with Steer/McLain/Lux all starting to come alive… Team has pitched well enough all year to be atop of the standings… these boys could be dangerous!“

The Cincinnati Reds began the season with smoke in their engines but no real fire. Fans saw familiar mistakes, sloppy base running, and narrow heartbreaks that echoed last year’s collapse. Even Terry Francona, the new skipper, took early heat for not turning the tide. But somewhere between the rants and the groans, something started to click.

Since June, their team ERA has dropped from 4.76 to a crisp 3.21, and their OPS jumped from .665 to .755. Once known for stranding runners, they’re now cashing them in like overdue checks. The Reds aren’t just waking up—they’re shaking off the dust with purpose.

Now, the Reds aren’t just playing—they’re plotting. The improvements haven’t come with noise, but with precision. Young hitters like Elly De La Cruz are finding rhythm, while the clubhouse feels different. Francona’s quiet belief has turned into a team-wide mindset of execution and grit. Since May, De La Cruz has slugged .540 with 10 homers and 15 stolen bases—video game stuff. He’s running like he’s double-parked and swinging like the bat owes him money. The kid’s not rising—he’s launching.

The Padres game became the perfect postcard of their pitching dominance. Nick Martinez flirted with a no-hitter, hurling eight hitless innings with clinical control. Though a ninth-inning double spoiled history, his night still shimmered. Add Spencer Steer’s home run hat trick—and suddenly, these Reds look dangerously complete.

Just a month ago, their World Series odds hovered below 2%; now they’re creeping past 9%. The numbers might not be shouting, but they’re definitely whispering, October. They are mapping the route in red ink. And a hot streak in September could turn calculators into believers.

So, are the Reds still the punchline, or are they finally throwing the punches? Terry Francona didn’t bring magic. He brought a manual. And now the league’s reading it with sweat on its brow. Cincinnati’s not asking for respect anymore. They’re demanding it—one dominant inning at a time.

The Reds are making small changes, and Jeimer Candelario might be the first step

Sometimes a $45 million decision becomes a $1 million punchline. The Cincinnati Reds, never ones to scream rebuild but always flirting with reshuffle, have started tweaking around the edges. And yes, that edge just caught Jeimer Candelario. It’s not a fire sale—yet—but the front office seems ready to trim the fat, even if it comes with a price tag and a .113 batting average attached.

Jeimer Candelario didn’t just lose his swing—he lost his spot on the Reds’ roster. Hitting .113 with a sub-.200 on-base percentage is less a slump, more a vanishing act. Cincinnati gave him time, money, and patience. But results don’t lie, and lately, Candelario’s bat has been whisper-quiet.

The Reds aren’t blowing things up; they’re sanding down the splinters. This DFA signals more of a pivot than a panic. With Noelvi Marte nearing a return, the club sees internal answers ready to step in. Youth is knocking, and the Reds may finally answer the door.

Before dropping Candelario, Francona said, “He’s a veteran player that’s had some really good years…  there’s guys ahead of him.” Cincinnati can now shift focus to flexibility, upside, and actual production. Every underperforming veteran dropped makes room for someone hungrier. And in a tight division, that hunger could mean everything.

This move may not make headlines, but it sharpens the roster’s edge. One misfire out, one opportunity in. The Reds aren’t perfect, but they’re trying to be smarter. And Candelario, once the solution, is now simply a reminder of what didn’t work.

Call it a trim or a course correction—either way, the Reds just sent a message. They’re done handing out long leashes to short results. Candelario’s contract might’ve had years left, but his runway didn’t. If this is Cincinnati’s new standard, a few more veterans might want to keep their helmets buckled. The Reds aren’t rebuilding—they’re editing, and bad pages get cut fast.