Which MLB players could you trick into working in Macrodata Refinement on "Severance"?

Apple TV's Severance is probably (definitely) the best thing on TV right now, with executive producer/director of most episodes Ben Stiller continuing to prove that there's a lot more to him than the Zoolander/Tropic Thunder credits he made his name on as the show gets into its second season.

If you don't know how Severance works — well, it's complicated, but it follows four office workers who work for a freaky, cult-like company called Lumon, in an underground department called Macrodata Refinement, where their job is to sort through groups of numbers and sort them, looking for clusters that make them feel some kind of way (specifically, abject terror).

But here's the rub: All of these employees have undergone a procedure (the titular severance) that separates their out-of-work selves ("outies") with their in-office selves ("innies"), basically creating two separate people in the same body. The outies have no idea what goes on at work, and the innies are basically newborns who know nothing about what it actually means to be a real person.

The entire show is predicated on a dramatic escalation of the idea of work-life balance, remedied by complete work-life separation.

Now, baseball is, objectively, a fun job that players should want to enjoy every minute of. These are guys who throw a ball or hit that ball with a stick for money, and even players who aren't receiving Shohei Ohtani- or Juan Soto-level contracts are still making more than elected government officials do. That's objectively awesome.

Still, there are some players who would probably jump at the chance to separate their work lives from their home lives or, at the very least, be willing to hear the Lumon pitch out.

MLB players who could be tricked into working in Severance's Macrodata Refinement department

Anthony Rendon

Rendon wouldn't even have to be tricked into working in Macrodata Refinement; he'd do it willingly. Is there a single guy in professional sports who doesn't want to be at work as much as Rendon? This is a player who was on a Hall of Fame trajectory in the first seven seasons of his career with the Nationals, and then he went to the Angels for an absolutely ridiculous amount of money and decided he actually hated his job.

In five years in Los Angeles, he's accumulated just 3.7 fWAR versus the 30 he had in seven years with the Nats. The last time he played a "complete" season was during the COVID-shortened 2020 year, and he's dismissed concerns about his constant injuries by saying that baseball isn't a "top priority" for him but rather a job he did to make a living.

If someone told him that he'd be able to completely separate his consciousness from work but still make the $77.14 million the Angels owe him? He'd ask where he should sign and how soon he can start.

Javier Báez

Báez, unlike Rendon, has stayed mostly healthy during his first three years with the Tigers, and there's no reason to believe that he hates his job quite as much. Cubs fans still toast to El Mago in Wrigleyville, and he was politely received when he returned last season for the first time since leaving at the 2021 trade deadline.

What might get him down into the scary Lumon basement, however, is the haunting echoes of all of the boos that greet him every time he comes to the plate at Comerica and every time he swings at a ball so far outside of the zone that one has to think that some of these pitchers are just messing with him.

The pitch might go something like this: "Imagine it, Javy. You could leave all of it behind you. All of the boos, all of the now-ice cold takes on your contract being one of the worst in baseball. You don't have to feel any of that anymore. We could make it all go away."

Pete Alonso

The key for Alonso would be to trick him into thinking that severance would only be temporary, and that he could reverse it as soon as his free agency finally drags to a close. Agent Scott Boras is reportedly using Prince Fielder's nine-year, $214 million deal with the Tigers in 2012 as the blueprint for his client's new contract; if that's true, then Alonso (already 30 and on a sharp decline) will stay a free agent forever.

Even Uncle Steve Cohen, the wealthiest owner by independent net worth in baseball, admitted that negotiations were "exhausting" and is clearly unwilling to capitulate to Alonso's and Boras' ridiculous demands.

Alonso's probably wishing he could go to death-like sleep until it's all over and have Boras wake him up whenever he's secured a new deal. Severance could provide something close to that effect, if you leave out the fractured sense of self and lack of autonomy over a new half of your personality. At this point, those might be cons that Alonso's willing to contend with.