
Josh Bell Faced Baseball Mortality — Now He Arrives in Minnesota Ready to Help the Twins Grow
Baseball players are trained to project certainty.
The game is brutal, unforgiving, and relentlessly humbling. Failure isn’t an occasional visitor — it’s a permanent resident. To survive, players build armor: confidence, bravado, routine. Even momentary self-doubt feels dangerous, like exposing a weak seam before stepping into battle.
That’s what made Josh Bell’s honesty so striking.
In a brief introductory Zoom press conference last week, the Minnesota Twins’ new first baseman did something most veterans avoid. He admitted that, just months ago, he wasn’t sure if he’d have a job.
“I didn’t really know what to expect going into the offseason,” Bell said. “I had a good stretch at the end of the season that I felt good about. My agent told me there was a good chance I’d get signed — I just had to wait.”
For a player with Bell’s résumé, that uncertainty may seem surprising. But baseball careers don’t end with announcements. They fade quietly, when the phone stops ringing.
At 33 years old, Bell felt that silence creeping in.
When the League Stops Calling, You Start Listening

Bell’s 2025 season with Washington told two different stories.
The first half was brutal. Timing issues. Sluggish bat speed. Production that didn’t justify everyday at-bats. For the first time in four years, Bell wasn’t traded at the deadline — a subtle but devastating signal for a veteran who had become a familiar midseason upgrade for contenders.
Instead, he stayed with a rebuilding Nationals team.
Bell understood exactly what that meant.
“When no team is willing to give up value for you in July,” one veteran once said, “they’re telling you who you are now.”
For Bell, that message landed hard. This wasn’t a slump. This was career-threatening reality.
Reinvention Begins with Humility
Rather than denying the problem, Bell attacked it.
Late in the season, he began searching for answers — not in slogans or blind confidence, but in tangible change. That search led him to teammate Amed Rosario.
“Amed had an unbelievable camp and started the season really strong,” Bell explained. “So I basically copied his bat program.”
Rosario had been working with a Driveline-style training approach focused on bat speed, attack angle, and pitch-specific reps. Bell jumped in headfirst.
The key tool: a sinker machine.
Unlike traditional pitching machines that fire straight, predictable fastballs, the sinker machine forced Bell to hit moving pitches with late drop. He paired it with a weighted bat, training his hands to move faster while reinforcing contact beneath the ball — the foundation of hard, airborne contact.
“That’s when I started seeing results,” Bell said. “That’s when it showed up in games.”
The payoff was immediate.
In August and September, Bell slashed .257/.331/.486, rediscovering both his lift and his authority. More importantly, he rediscovered belief.
“That adjustment helped extend my career,” he said plainly.
Learning What Not to Do

Reinvention sometimes means subtraction.
Bell laughed when asked about his offseason routine — and then offered a confession.
“I tried golfing for the first time last offseason,” he said. “I think it made me lose my swing.”
For a lifelong baseball-first athlete, the rotational differences mattered. Bell noticed his timing drifting, his mechanics unraveling. Lesson learned.
“I’m hanging up the clubs until I hang up the jersey,” he said.
Instead, he’s spent the offseason hitting from both sides of the plate, reinforcing muscle memory and rhythm. No shortcuts. No distractions.
Just work.
Why Minnesota Called First
The Twins noticed.
Bell said Minnesota was the first team to reach out, but the connection ran deeper than performance metrics. It started with new Twins manager Derek Shelton, who had managed Bell during his final days in Pittsburgh.
“My agency told me Derek went right up to them at the Winter Meetings and said, ‘We want Josh,’” Bell recalled. “That meant a lot.”
Their time together in Pittsburgh was brief and complicated by the COVID-shortened season, but Shelton walked away convinced Bell possessed something harder to quantify: leadership.
That’s what the Twins are buying.
A Veteran Who Leads Without Ego
Bell doesn’t lead loudly. He doesn’t bark. He doesn’t posture.
He teaches.
“I did that last year with the Nationals,” Bell said. “Watching CJ Abrams, James Wood — helping when I could.”
He understands the nuance of mentorship. Some players want advice. Others need space. Trust must be earned.
“You’ve got to learn who’s open to listening,” Bell said. “But if I can help guys find better routines or adjustments, I’ll do it.”
That mindset fits perfectly with a Twins roster at a crossroads.
A Natural Fit with Royce Lewis — and Beyond
Bell already has a relationship with Royce Lewis, formed through their shared agency and strengthened by proximity. Both live near Frisco, Texas, and plan to train together this offseason.
“We’re going to start taking grounders together,” Bell said. “I’ll watch him throw from across the diamond, get reads.”
But the connection goes deeper than footwork.
Lewis’ career has been defined by talent and interrupted by injury. Bell knows that road well — the frustration, the stops and starts, the mental toll.
“If he can get to 140 games,” Bell said, “we’ll see what he can really do.”
That influence could extend to Matt Wallner and Trevor Larnach, players whose physical profiles echo Bell’s own. Power hitters often live on the margins of adjustment. Bell understands how thin that margin is.
Why Josh Bell Might Matter More Than His Bat
Minnesota’s 2026 playoff hopes hinge on internal growth.
The Twins won’t contend unless they get more from Lewis, Wallner, Larnach, and others than they’ve received over the past two seasons. Bell’s production will matter — but his presence might matter more.
He is unusually open. Unusually reflective. Free of bravado.
In a sport obsessed with certainty, Bell’s willingness to admit doubt — and overcome it — makes him uniquely valuable.
If the Twins’ young core absorbs that mindset, this signing could be remembered not as a depth move, but as a catalyst.
Josh Bell stared baseball mortality in the face.
Now he arrives in Minnesota with something rarer than confidence: perspective — and the ability to pass it on.