THE ONLY DECISION SHOULD BE TO KEEP CABALLERO AT SHORTSTOP

Everyone keeps parroting that the New York Yankees have this “very hard decision” to make on Anthony Volpe. Let’s stop pretending. The decision isn’t hard—it’s just awkward to admit out loud for the Yankees front offce.

Because the truth? The Yankees already know what they’re going to do. They’re bringing Volpe back, plugging him in as the starting shortstop, and hoping—really hoping—that this time the bat shows up, the glove behaves, and the growing pains finally come with a payoff. It’s less a plan and more a wish written on a folded lottery ticket.

And that’s exactly the problem.

This isn’t about disliking Volpe. He was drafted by the Yankees, he wears the uniform, and if you’re a fan, you want him to succeed. That part is easy. But liking the story and believing the production are two different things. The Yankees—and their fans—keep getting sold on effort. You’ve heard it a million times: “He works so hard.” Great. So does everyone. The real follow-up question never gets asked though: what are the results?

Because working hard while spinning your wheels isn’t progress—it’s cardio.

Volpe hasn’t shown enough results. Not in the majors, and not convincingly on this rehab assignment either. Yes, there’s a .280 average floating around, but it’s built on roughly 40 at-bats—barely a sample, more like a suggestion. Zoom in a little closer and it’s not exactly dominant: hitless in a 13–3 win for Somerset the other night, a hit with another strikeout in an 11–0 game for Somerset last night. This is Double-A. He’s supposed to look like a finished product visiting a lower level, not a guy still searching for the instruction manual.

Meanwhile, the major league roster didn’t exactly fall apart without him. In fact, it found a spark. José Caballero has been one of the hottest players on the team since mid-April—hitting, running, creating energy, actually impacting games. That matters. Baseball has always been brutally simple: play the guy who’s producing. Ride the hot hand until it cools, not until a pre-written script says otherwise.

And yet, here we are, bracing for the Yankees to force the narrative again. Because that’s what this feels like: an organization trying to prove it was right about Volpe instead of honestly evaluating what’s in front of them. Fans see it. You can’t sell potential forever without delivering reality.

Here’s the part people don’t want to say out loud: maybe he just hasn’t earned it. And that’s okay. Not every prospect becomes the guy. It doesn’t make him a villain—it just makes him… not the answer.

So why rush him back? He wasn’t fully developed the first time. Keeping him in the minors isn’t punishment—it’s common sense. Let him actually build something resembling consistency. And if an opportunity comes along? Explore it. Trade him for a utility piece, bullpen depth, whatever improves the roster. Holding on just because of draft status is how you stay stuck.

Also, timing matters. His rehab assignment is ending, which forces a decision: bring him up or keep him down. For me, it’s simple—keep him down. Especially when there are already alternatives on the roster, even beyond Caballero, like Ryan McMahon. Why bend over backwards to reinsert someone who hasn’t proven it?

Baseball history is full of reminders that jobs aren’t guaranteed. Wally Pipp sat out with a headache and Lou Gehrig took over for good. Opportunity doesn’t care about prospect rankings or front office narratives.

And here’s one more uncomfortable thought: what if Caballero is just… better? That’s a perfectly reasonable conclusion based on what’s happening on the field.

If Volpe eventually proves he can handle New York—great, try him again. If he can’t, that’s information too. Maybe he fits somewhere else, in a lower-pressure environment, even as a depth piece behind someone like Matt McLain, the second baseman on the Reds.

But forcing him back into the lineup now? That’s not development. That’s denial.

And the worst part? It risks stalling the progress the team is actually making. When something’s working, you don’t “fix” it—you let it run.

And for the record... Wally Pipp? He ended up in Cincinnati after Gehrig took his job. 1926. Baseball's funny sometimes.