BAD BOONE DECISIONS CONTINUE TO LOSE GAMES FOR THE YANKEES

Friday night’s 5–3 loss to the Rays wasn’t just another notch in a three-game skid—it was another reminder that the biggest problem in the Bronx isn’t always on the field.

Yes, Luis Gil had a rocky debut. Fine. That happens. But the defining moments of this game didn’t come from the mound—they came from the dugout, where Aaron Boone continues to manage like he’s guessing on a multiple-choice test and proudly circling “C” every time.

This is becoming a pattern, not a fluke.

April 5: high-leverage situation, Boone rolls with JC Escarra—three pitches later, strikeout, rally dead on arrival.

April 8: a .077-hitting Ryan McMahon keeps getting chances like he’s on a lifetime achievement tour. Boone’s justification was dumb. He actually said McMahon “had been on base four times in the previous three games.” That’s the bar now? Four times in three games? For a hitter batting .077?

And then Friday—somehow worse.

Down 5–3 in the ninth, the Yankees finally wake up. Giancarlo Stanton and Amed Rosario lead off with singles. Jazz Chisholm Jr. does his job, chaos ensues, runners move—suddenly, one swing ties the game.

This is where a real manager plays chess. But we don't have a real manager. We have Boone who plays rock-paper-scissors… blindfolded.

With a righty reliever on the mound, Boone sticks with Randal Grichuk while Trent Grisham—a lefty—sits on the bench watching the season pass him by. Predictably, Grichuk strikes out on four pitches.

And Boone’s explanation? Brace yourself:
“I like the righties against Baker. Had it been two outs, I might have gone Grisham.”

That’s not just a bad answer—it’s barely an answer. It’s the kind of logic that makes you wonder if lineup decisions are being made with a dartboard.

Then came the postgame philosophy lecture, where Boone said:

“Up until the last game of the homestand, we’ve been walking a ton, giving ourselves an opportunity, just got to get some guys clicking and obviously get that big hit... We’re not hitting a ton of longballs right now, but for the most part, approach-wise, I’ve been good…it’s going to happen sometimes from the offense. They’ll get it rolling and some people will pay the price.”

That all sounds nice—if you ignore reality.

Because here’s what Boone refuses to acknowledge: when you do get those opportunities, you can’t hand them to the worst possible matchup and hope for a miracle. Walks don’t win games by themselves. “Approach” doesn’t drive in runs. The right hitter in the right moment does.

Instead, Boone keeps rolling out scenarios where JC Escarra, Ryan McMahon, or a cold righty in a righty-righty matchup becomes the guy. Not because it’s smart—but because, apparently, it “feels” right.

That’s not strategy. That’s gambling. It's a guess. You need to give your team an opportunity. He's not.

Managing this team right now is like handing someone the keys to a Porsche and watching them say, “I like my chances,” right before driving it straight into a wall. And then afterward, they explain the crash by talking about how smoothly the steering wheel felt.

At some point, you stop calling it bad luck. You call it what it is: bad leadership.

The New York Yankees aren’t losing because they lack talent. They’re losing because, in the biggest moments, the decision-making collapses because of Aaron Boone. And until that changes, October isn’t the goal—it’s a fantasy. Mark my words, even if we make it to the playoffs, Boone doesn't have the brain capacity to guide us in a short series.  Trust me.

You cannot win a championship when your manager keeps explaining losses instead of preventing them. That's the bottom line.