RODON'S JOURNEY HAS BEEN INSPIRING!

Let’s be honest—when Carlos Rodón first put on the pinstripes, he might as well have shown up in clown shoes and a fake nose. Big contract, bigger expectations, and… a start that felt like Carl Pavano: The Sequel. The injuries. The inconsistency. The thousand-yard stare after a three-inning meltdown. Yankee fans weren't just skeptical—we were practically sharpening pitchforks in the Bronx.

Then came the facial hair saga. First the beard—gone. Then the mustache phase, where Rodón looked like he should be tying someone to train tracks or robbing a saloon. It was all part of an identity crisis that mirrored his pitching. Was he the ace we paid for or just another name on the Yankees’ long list of cautionary tales?

But here’s the twist: Rodón stuck with it. 

He didn’t run from the pressure, didn’t make excuses, and didn’t try to beard his way out of trouble. And now, in 2025, he’s doing what many of us thought he might never do—he’s shoving. Consistently. Confidently. Quietly.

On Tuesday night, Rodón was absolutely filthy. He blanked the Angels over seven innings, struck out 10, and made Anaheim’s hitters look like they’d never seen a fastball before. Not a single baserunner got past second. It was clinical, it was dominant, and—frankly—it was everything Yankee fans have been dying to see.

This wasn’t just another win. This was Rodón stepping into the void left by Gerrit Cole and Luis Gil, and saying, “I got this.” His ERA’s down to 2.60. The Yankees are rolling. And Rodón, against all odds, is starting to look like the co-ace we hoped for.

Let that sink in. Carlos Rodón, the same guy we once feared might be the next chapter in the “Disaster Contracts” section of Yankees history, is now one of the most reliable arms in the rotation. He’s tough. He’s efficient. He’s throwing darts.

I’ll admit it—I was ready to slap the Pavano label on him and never look back. But Rodón? He kept grinding. The Yankees kept believing. And now, I’m eating crow with a side of humble pie—and loving every bite of it.

If there's any justice in baseball, this version of Carlos Rodón should be headed to the All-Star Game. He’s earned it. He’s endured it. And maybe, just maybe, we’re finally witnessing his true Yankee moment.

So here’s to you, Carlos. Keep mowing ’em down. Keep proving us wrong. And please—stay mustache-free unless it’s for a postseason villain arc, in which case... let’s ride.