Can the Rangers Lean on Josh Smith to Fill the Second Base Void?

There are questions every baseball team hopes to avoid, and then there are the questions that find you whether you’re ready or not. For the Texas Rangers, arriving fresh off a season defined by resilience and ambition, one such question now hangs over the infield dirt like a lingering shadow:
Can Josh Smith truly be the answer at second base?

It’s not a small question. It’s not even a fair one. But that’s the nature of baseball — openings demand answers, and sometimes the most unexpected names become the most compelling possibilities.

Josh Smith isn’t a headliner. He doesn’t walk into a room with the presence of a superstar or the weight of expectation dragging behind him. He’s quieter, sharper around the edges, the kind of player who earns attention slowly, through details fans don’t always notice at first: the clean footwork, the smart angles, the controlled swings, the adaptability. He’s a baseball problem-solver — a player who doesn’t dominate so much as he steadies.

And maybe that’s exactly why the Rangers find themselves wondering whether he could be the solution they need.

Second base has become a void — a space once filled with routine confidence but now clouded by uncertainty. Injuries, roster shifts, and inconsistent production have left the Rangers looking inward, searching for someone who can not only hold the position but stabilize it, elevate it, own it. And the more they look, the more Smith’s name keeps resurfacing.

What makes the idea so fascinating isn’t just his skill set; it’s the way he plays the game. There’s a calmness to Smith that feels almost old-fashioned. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t overswing. He doesn’t flinch when the moment tightens. He carries himself like a player who understands that reliability is a kind of star power all its own — one that teams lean on when things get messy.

But handing someone a full-time starting job in the major leagues is a leap of faith, even when the player has earned every opportunity. And for Smith, this leap feels like both a blessing and a burden.

Because if he succeeds, he becomes the answer to a problem the Rangers desperately need to solve.
And if he struggles, the consequences aren’t just personal — they ripple into the lineup, into the momentum, into the delicate structure of a team trying to make another deep run.

The Rangers know this. Their coaching staff knows this. Smith definitely knows this. Yet the conversation persists, fueled not by desperation, but by opportunity. The Rangers don’t need him to be spectacular. They need him to be steady. Dependable. Present. They need him to turn the simple plays into guarantees and the tough plays into moments that lift the dugout.

And in flashes — beautiful, promising flashes — he’s already shown he can do that.

He’s shown it in the way he takes pitches the league expects him to chase.
In the way he turns double plays with controlled confidence.
In the way he carries himself with the quiet pride of someone who refuses to be outworked.

Fans have noticed, too. They’ve shifted from skepticism to curiosity, from curiosity to cautious hope. There’s a sense that maybe, just maybe, Smith is ready to step into a role that wasn’t originally carved out for him — the kind of role that changes not just how others see him, but how he sees himself.

And that might be the heart of the entire question.
Can the Rangers lean on him?
Or can Josh Smith grow into someone they want to lean on?

Baseball rarely hands out guarantees, especially at positions built on rhythm and instinct. The only way to know if Smith can fill the void is to let him walk into it, glove first, shoulders squared, ready to prove that steadiness can be just as powerful as flash.

Maybe he isn’t the obvious answer.
But sometimes the answers that change a season are the ones no one expects.

And in Texas, there’s a growing feeling that Josh Smith might just be one of them.