Baltimore Fills the Empty Chair

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Baltimore Fills the Empty Chair — and PJ Bishop Puts the Orioles’ Rotation on Notice
The Orioles hired a mid-market pragmatist with a scouting-and-analytics pedigree, then watched him walk to the podium and tell the truth: the window is open, the clock is loud, and the pitching has to catch up—fast.

The first thing you noticed wasn’t the suit. It wasn’t the grin, either.

It was the way PJ Bishop talked like a man who’s already watched the tape.

On a winter-to-spring morning that felt more like a deadline than an introduction, the Orioles finally filled the vacancy that hovered over their baseball operations department heading into 2025. Bishop — a former player turned graduate assistant turned scout, who climbed through the scouting/analytics world before serving as Director of Baseball Operations at the University of Tennessee — stepped into the empty GM chair with the kind of résumé that reads like a modern front office blueprint.

And then he did the one thing most new hires avoid on Day 1: he called his shot.

“Just two seasons removed from a 101-win campaign,” Bishop said, “I expect to compete for the division and make a deep run in the playoffs. We are built to win now and need to capitalize on that.”

In Baltimore, that line lands with weight. Not because it’s bold — because it’s accurate. This roster isn’t a rebuilding pamphlet anymore. It’s a contender with expectations, built on a blend of veterans and young talent that has already learned how to play meaningful baseball. Bishop didn’t pretend it was perfect. He didn’t need to.

“No roster is perfect,” he said. “But we have the right pieces to win the division and make a run for the World Series.”

So what’s the problem?

Bishop didn’t hesitate.

“The rotation,” he said. “You can never have enough front-end pitching.”

The room got quiet in that specific way it does when a front office person speaks plainly — not to win the press conference, but to set the standard. Baltimore’s fan base has watched this organization build patiently, draft well, develop, and finally arrive at the part of the movie where the music swells. But Bishop’s message was clear: arriving is not the same thing as finishing.

And finishing, in his mind, starts on the mound.

“I want a rotation one through five that can all go six-plus innings and just make your day miserable,” he said, leaning hard into a vision that sounded less like a slogan and more like a scouting report. “The bullpen will be high-octane arms that make that final third of the game just as miserable.”

That word — miserable — did a lot of work. Bishop wasn’t selling romance. He was selling oppression. Six innings of no oxygen, three innings of no hope.

Then he pivoted to the long game, the part of the job that separates GMs who win a headline from GMs who build a decade.

His philosophy, he explained, is balanced — born from the reality of operating in an average market with an average budget. The Orioles can’t chase every shiny thing. They have to choose their moments.

“Having an average market size/budget requires having to pick and choose,” Bishop said. “When to go all in or when to rebuild for the future.”

The plan begins where Baltimore’s best teams have always been built: information and development.

“Scout well, draft well, and develop from within first,” Bishop said. “If we can’t do that we will trade or sign a free agent if the price is right.”

There was one more piece to his blueprint — a concept that plays beautifully in a city that’s watched enough teams get seduced by the wrong contract at the wrong time.

Bishop wants flexibility. Not because he’s afraid to spend. Because he wants the ability to strike when the final piece appears.

“I like to stay flexible and keep the money open in case we need it to bring in that final piece,” he said.

And if you were waiting for the “but,” Bishop had one ready.

He isn’t interested in paying for memories.

“Not a fan of aging vets who want to get paid for what they have done and not for what they will produce for us,” he said. “I’m not against players getting their large contracts. I just don’t want to be stuck paying over $20,000,000 a year for a 36-year-old bench player.”

In other words: Bishop isn’t allergic to bold moves. He’s allergic to bad ones.

That’s why the defining quote of the day wasn’t a promise. It was a warning — delivered with the kind of blunt honesty Orioles fans tend to respect, even when it stings.

“The rotation ain’t it,” Bishop said. “I don’t have much time to fix it now with Opening Day just 12 days away, but it definitely needs improvement if a parade is to be held in Baltimore.”

That’s the Bishop era in one paragraph: win-now expectations, long-term discipline, and a willingness to look at the one soft spot on a strong roster and say it out loud. No euphemisms. No dodge. No “we like our guys” cover.

He even brought the tone into the clubhouse.

“I expect 100% from everyone,” Bishop said. “Slumps will happen, but you can always give 100%.”

It was part challenge, part mission statement — a new GM telling a team with October aspirations that effort is the floor, not the ceiling.

And then, finally, Bishop gave the fans the line they came for — short, sharp, and tailor-made for message boards, banners, and the first post of a forum thread.

“Welcome to the Bishop era.”

Baltimore’s GM chair isn’t vacant anymore. The window is still open. The roster still has the blend to win now.

But the new guy didn’t arrive to admire the view.

He arrived to fix the part of the machine that could break the whole thing — and he’s already told the world what’s coming next.