An ex-player more fit for a dugout than a booth, Jim Edmonds exits Cardinals broadcasts

Too much distraction, not enough insight from Jimmy.

Jim Edmonds isn’t long for the FanDuel Sports Network world.

AP Photo/Jeff Roberson

Saturday afternoon, news swept around the internet and socials that the former St. Louis Cardinals centerfielder was out of the 2025 broadcast schedule. After a number of seasons with Dan McLaughlin and lately Chip Caray, Edmonds was shown the door and it’s a good thing.

Some of my readers will be disappointed that they won’t be able to hear more of his bro tales in between pitches and at-bats, a sprinkling of color commentary over his recent batch of texts and “look at me” conversations. Jimmy, people don’t give a crap who you are texting or what you are doing. The minute you left town and played somewhere else, the red jacket and some respect was all that sat on your plate.

For a season or two, it was a good fit. He talked more ball than bullshit, giving the broadcast some genuine insight into hitting and outfield play from the one of the best to ever do it. Hall of Fame invite or not, Edmonds is the best outfielder I saw play in person. He’d post up closer to the shortstop than the centerfield wall, and still get back to catch a deep fly ball. He had an arm that could discipline wily runners and keep coaches honest. The bat could split a home run to left-center or drill it to right-center.

Behind the microphone, he got tiring to listen to and prompted more eye rolls than appreciated acknowledgements. He’s more fit for a windbreaker and a dugout than a suit and broadcast booth. It started going very downhill when Caray replaced Danny Mac. You see, McLaughlin could volley Edmonds’ quips into funny back-and-forth zinging sessions. Caray, on the other hand, acts like the steady grandpa paired next to the loudmouth uncle for three hours at a kid’s birthday party with all the school sponsors.

He tries to make lemonade out of Jimmy’s tales, but repeatedly sounds like a guy who couldn’t conjure up a worthy response to a dick joke. It’s not his fault; he’s a baseball announcer, not a late night talk show host. Perhaps Edmonds could succeed where even Joe Buck and Bob Costas failed: Late night chats with ex-players. Make it glitzy and find a hair gel or muscle shirt sponsor. After all, Jimmy likes a good pump and squirt.

My late friend Troy would take all of these words and flush them down the toilet. If Edmonds was holding a “for sale” sign on the corner of Clayton and Skinker, Troy would buy him for a bro night. Billiards, bourbon, storytelling. Troy loved Jimmy Baseball, especially the homers and diving catches. Anything he did was a plus for Troy, who couldn’t get enough.

If he were still alive, I could imagine the two of us doing a halfway funny impersonation of an Edmonds-Caray broadcast before the scoreboard. “Live from the Manual Scoreboard Nosebleeds, Chip and Jimmy talk about dating hot daughters of war veterans who wore jean shorts. It would be a roast-filled experience, especially if he was sporting the gelled-up Jimmy hairdo. Maybe we’d do it once a week during the season.

All jokes aside, Edmonds had a nice run in the booth. They’ll get someone different in there, maybe Steve Kline or Matt Holliday. If Adam Wainwright ever wants to stop being the baseball version of Kenny Chesney and gets tired of the MLB Network robotics, he’d be a perfect partner for Chip.

Now, instead of heading upstairs in the elevator to the press box, Edmonds should take it down to the dugout and put a uniform back on. No, he doesn’t need to activate himself. Join the coaching staff and get these Cardinal bats working again. That’s more beneficial than reading us your “Who Texted Me Lately?” stream live on air.

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