THE BOY CROWNED KING TOO EARLY

You can hear it every time the Yankees talk about Anthony Volpe. The optimism. The breathless faith. The rehearsed lines. The insistence that what you’re seeing with your own eyes is somehow wrong. Because if you really believed the numbers, the tape, and the results, you wouldn’t still be trying to sell Anthony Volpe as a franchise shortstop. Yet here we are.

Volpe talked last season “sleepless nights” and “work to be done.” Fair enough. Accountability is good. Unfortunately, it came paired with the usual organizational safety net: excuses, patience, and blind belief.  Then came the MRI. A torn left labrum requiring surgery. And just like that, for the first time in four seasons, Anthony Volpe will not be the Yankees’ Opening Day shortstop... which, I'm not gonna lie, I am thrilled about.  Why?

Let’s stop pretending this is complicated. Through 1,886 major league plate appearances, Volpe owns a .662 OPS.  Offense that has been 16 percent below league average. 19 errors in 2025 alone. That’s not a slump. That’s a résumé.

This isn’t a small sample. This isn’t “he’s figuring it out.” This is who he has been for three seasons. The “upside” Yankees fans keep being promised remains theoretical, while the production has been painfully real. The math simply isn’t mathing. The Yankees crowned his kid King way too early.

The organization keeps talking about him like he’s on the verge of becoming something special—as if one magical adjustment is going to turn a below-average bat into a cornerstone.  No one peddles this garbage harder than Aaron Boone.

Boone will tell you Volpe is “working through it.”
Boone will tell you he’s “almost there.”
Boone will tell you the final two months were “really good,” even when they objectively weren’t.

At one point, during the height of Volpe’s struggles last year, Boone was asked about him in a press conference and literally mouthed the words “he’s f’in elite” to Meredith Marakovits.

Elite.

 
That moment should’ve stunned everyone—and not because it was bold, but because it was detached from reality. The eye test alone screamed otherwise. Boone wasn’t managing; he was campaigning.

This is what Boone does. He doesn’t evaluate players—he protects narratives handed down by the front office. If Brian Cashman says Volpe is the guy, Boone will repeat it until the words lose all meaning. He’s not managing results. He’s managing optics. And let's be honest, high school stardom doesn't cash MLB checks.  Volpe’s legend has always leaned heavily on his past. The local kid. The shortstop dreams. The high school dominance. The “perfect Yankee.”

But high school numbers don’t win games in the Bronx.  New York fans, don’t care what you were at 17. We care what you are right now. And right now, Volpe looks overwhelmed by the pressure, the expectations, and the reality that the major leagues separate potential from performance. but don't worry, the Yankees will blame it on the bum shoulder.  An injury that popped up in the late of the season and was suggested it started in May. IN MAY? What are the Yankees hiding. We lost a lot of winnable games because this kid was hurt.  We are clearly not a serious franchise.

For Volpe, pressure showed up everywhere: the errors, the tentative at-bats, the inability to adjust when pitchers stopped challenging him. The stage got bigger. He didn’t. And instead of letting him sink or swim honestly, the Yankees wrapped him in bubble wrap made of excuses down the stretch.

But don't worry, Brian Cashman insists he still believes “everything they felt before the surgery.” He points to Trent Grisham as proof that development paths are unpredictable. That’s fine—once. But let's also not forget that the Yankees hid Grisham in 2024 and only played him in 2025 because they needed him... and he happened to work out.

Look, how many times can you say that Volpe is the answer before it becomes organizational denial? At some point, belief without evidence isn’t confidence—it’s stubbornness. And worse, it’s costing the team games. The irony is thick. Cashman himself said it best when he noted that “the game separates the men from the boys.”

It already has.

José Caballero is faster.
José Caballero is more athletic.
José Caballero gets on base.
José Caballero scores runs.

Caballero looks like a major leaguer who understands the moment. Volpe still looks like a player being protected from it. The Yankees don’t need another promise. They need production. They don’t need another press conference quote. They need accountability. And they don’t need to keep forcing Anthony Volpe into a role he hasn’t earned just to justify a scouting decision they refuse to admit might’ve been wrong. This isn’t personal. It’s baseball. Fans don't want Volpe as the starting shortstop... it's pretty simple.

When you’re bad, it’s better to know it than to pretend it isn’t happening. That’s how you improve. That’s how you grow. That’s how you stop embarrassing yourself nightly with empty optimism.

I want to be wrong about Volpe. Every fan does. But the tighter the Yankees cling to him, the stranger this whole thing feels. Development doesn’t look like this. Confidence doesn’t sound like this. And superstardom? It sure as hell doesn’t need this many excuses.

The math isn’t mathing. The tape isn’t lying. And the game and fans have already made their choice as far as I'm concerned.

The Yankees just refuse to listen... and that's on them.