THE YANKEES PUBLIC RELATIONS NIGHTMARE CONTINUES - BUT HAL DOESN'T CARE!

At what point, do the Yankees finally realize there is a serious problem and fix it? A problem that needs action to fix it and not just a bunch of "accountability" babble from Hal Steinbrenner. We've all been waiting for the day when hell freezes over....because that's when things MIGHT change. Maybe? Big fat maybe. Or maybe Hal needs to be blasted some more first.

He's certainly had enough blasting over the years, and especially lately. Here's a very recent breakdown of the Yankees getting criticized:

1. Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez got the recent Yankee ridicule started the night the Rays eliminated the Yankees on the Fox Sports post-game show.

2. Then Paul O'Neill gave some pointed commentary to Bob Klapisch on NJ.com HERE.

3. CC Sabathia and Dellin Betances discuss the Yankees that have no standards or expectations of excellence, HERE. 

4. Joe Girardi calls out the Yankees for having no fundamentals and a culture problem HERE.

5. Jorge Posada feels "unwelcome" around the Yankees so he stays away HERE.

6. Last but not least Brewers Manager Pat Murphy calls the Yankees a "horseshit team" HERE.

Sure, Pat Murphy is backpedaling on the "horseshit" comment but he still thinks it. Next up we have Hall of Famer Goose Gossage sharing his thoughts HERE. It's not the first time he's shared his brutally honest thoughts but it is his latest contribution. Sometimes it sounds like he doesn't even like the Yankees anymore, but "I love the Yankees! Are you kidding me? It's this whole regime that I don't like."

Another thing we can all agree on. This regime sucks. No fundamentals, no coaching, lots of coddling and then failure. He's tired of watching it. "Yankees coaches aren't allowed to coach. You get on a player, you're gone. When I was there, I saw the fundamentals were gone and we all know what was going to happen. Look what happened. Gerrit Cole didn't cover first base in the World Series." He's tired of watching the Yankees not do the small things that need to be done over a long season to win.

The older not modern methods that worked are not allowed. The guys that used the old methods and proved that they worked because they won with them can't bring those back either. When they show up as guest instructors they just stand in the corner to watch the analytical nerd methods that produce the same results over and over again.

More and more backlash coming from Yankees past. It all paints the same bad picture - but Hal continues to stand by and do nothing. Is this what rock bottom looks like? Serious question!

--Jeana Bellezza-Ochoa

BYB Senior Managing Editor

Twitter: @nyprincessj

POSADA JUST EXPOSED EVERYTHING WRONG WITH THE YANKEES

First off, be sure the check out Jeana's piece: UNSENTIMENTAL PINSTRIPES: JORGE POSADA FEELS THE COLD SHOULDER.  That being said, I had to give me own thoughts as well because I am incredibly disappointed in this Yankee team's front office. It's atrocious.

Jorge Posada just said more about what's wrong with the New York Yankees in a few sentences than this organization has been willing to admit in years. And somebody in that front office better start listening.

In a revealing interview with New York Post Sports, the former Yankees catcher was asked whether his fiery attitude, baseball instincts and championship mentality could help correct some of the unacceptable behaviors surrounding today's team.

His answer was absolutely devastating.

"I could, but I don't think they want me there. I don't feel welcome when I go there. Even in Spring Training... So, I don't go."

Read that again.

Jorge Posada. Five-time World Series champion. A cornerstone of the last great Yankees dynasty. A man who understood what wearing those pinstripes meant, doesn't feel welcome around the organization he helped make legendary.

Are you kidding me?

This is the problem with the Yankees. Not just the inconsistent baseball. Not just the lack of urgency. Not just the occasional embarrassing fundamentals, the mental mistakes or the seemingly endless acceptance of mediocrity.

It's an organizational culture that appears more comfortable protecting its own philosophy than listening to people who actually know how to win. And Posada just pulled the curtain back.

For years, we've watched a Yankees team that too often looks comfortable losing. Players make mistakes, the same excuses follow, and we're told everyone is working hard and things will eventually turn around.

Where is the fire? Where is the accountability? Where is the guy who gets in somebody's face and reminds him that playing for the New York Yankees is a privilege, not a guaranteed paycheck?

Posada was that guy.

So were Derek Jeter, Paul O'Neill, Andy Pettitte and the late, great George Steinbrenner in his own way. They didn't always agree. They didn't always get along. But they shared something that seems painfully absent today.

An obsession with getting better. An absolute refusal to accept losing.

And here's what makes Posada's comments so damning.

He's not begging for a job. He's not campaigning for attention. He's telling you that he believes he can help, but doesn't feel wanted.

Think about the arrogance of that possibility.

An organization desperately trying to recapture its championship identity has one of the men who helped build that identity standing outside the door.

And apparently nobody is making him feel welcome enough to walk through it. That's not progress. That's organizational failure.

Now, let's give credit where it's due. This was an incredible interview because it exposed something much bigger than one former player's frustration. Credit to New York Post Sports for bringing this conversation into the open and allowing Posada to speak candidly.

Because the Yankees don't need another polished press conference. They don't need another explanation about process, preparation or how close they supposedly are.

They need someone willing to tell them the truth, even when that truth makes people uncomfortable. And Jorge Posada has never had a problem doing that. This is why we love him.

Look, nobody is suggesting that bringing Posada into the clubhouse tomorrow automatically delivers a World Series. That's ridiculous. But wouldn't you want his voice? His knowledge? His expectations? His understanding of what separates a talented baseball team from a championship baseball team?

Wouldn't you want players hearing from someone who lived it?

Apparently, that's not the message Posada has received. And that's a disgrace.

The Yankees have spent far too long trying to convince everyone that their way is working. Meanwhile, the franchise continues searching for the championship standard that once defined it.

Maybe the biggest problem isn't that the Yankees don't know how to get better.

Maybe it's that they've become unwilling to listen to the people who do. Jorge Posada didn't just criticize the Yankees. He exposed a culture that needs to look in the mirror.

And if the people running this organization have any pride left, they should pick up the phone, call Jorge Posada and make it clear that he's always welcome.

Because the New York Yankees should never become a place where champions feel like outsiders.

That's not the Yankee Way. That's everything the Yankee Way was supposed to stand against.

THE BUCK STOPS EVERYWHERE BUT HAL STEINBRENNER'S DESK.

Seven years. Seven seasons. Seven variations of the same tired excuse. And somehow, the man who owns the New York Yankees still hasn't figured out who is ultimately responsible.

Hal Steinbrenner, the problem isn't just the players. The problem is YOU. Let's review the annual State of the Excuses.

2020: The offense was inconsistent.

2021: The responsibility belonged to the players.

2022: Aaron Boone wasn't responsible for the offensive collapse.

2023: Run production was the biggest problem.

2024: The Yankees didn't play a clean World Series.

2025: The Toronto series was on the players. They didn't hit.

2026: Once again, the majority of the responsibility belongs to the position players and their inability to score consistently.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

At what point does the man signing the checks, approving the roster, retaining the general manager, and overseeing this entire operation look in the mirror? At what point does Hal Steinbrenner stop conducting the same postseason autopsy and realize HE'S THE ONE RUNNING THE HOSPITAL?

You want to blame the players? Fine. Some deserve blame. You want to criticize the offense? Absolutely. You want to point out sloppy baseball, terrible baserunning, poor execution, and disappearing bats in October? Go right ahead.

BUT WHO KEEPS BUILDING THIS TEAM?

Who continues to entrust Brian Cashman with the blueprint? Who continues to accept the same organizational philosophy? Who keeps watching the same fundamental problems surface year after year and then acts surprised when the season ends in disappointment?

YOU DO, HAL. YOU.

This is the New York Yankees. Not some small-market experiment where simply reaching October is cause for a parade.

This is the franchise of Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle, Berra, Munson, Mattingly, Jeter, Rivera, and your father, George Steinbrenner.

Your father wasn't perfect. Far from it. He could be impatient, demanding, unreasonable, and downright impossible. But there was one thing nobody ever questioned. GEORGE STEINBRENNER HATED LOSING MORE THAN HE LOVED MAKING EXCUSES.

He understood that owning the Yankees meant something. It meant accountability. It meant urgency. It meant that when the same problems kept showing up, you didn't simply change the wording of your annual press conference. YOU CHANGED THE PEOPLE RESPONSIBLE FOR FIXING THEM. And that's what makes this entire situation so infuriating.

Hal talks about inconsistency as though he's a helpless spectator watching the Yankees from his living room. He's not a spectator. HE OWNS THE DAMN TEAM.

You cannot spend seven consecutive seasons identifying the same failures while refusing to seriously question the leadership responsible for them.

That's not accountability.

That's organizational complacency dressed up as postseason analysis.

And Yankee fans are tired of it.

Tired of being told the talent is there. Tired of hearing about potential. Tired of watching October expose weaknesses that were obvious in May. Tired of hearing that everyone needs to be better while the people at the top continue operating as though nothing fundamentally needs to change.

Here's something Hal needs to understand.

ACCOUNTABILITY ISN'T SOMETHING YOU DEMAND ONLY FROM THE MEN WEARING PINSTRIPES. IT STARTS WITH THE MAN WHO OWNS THEM.

You inherited the most recognizable brand in professional baseball. A franchise built on championships, expectations, pride, and the absolute refusal to accept mediocrity. And somewhere along the way, it feels like the standard shifted from winning the World Series to simply being competitive enough to keep selling the product.

That is not the Yankee standard. And it never should be.

So, spare us another speech about the offense. Spare us another lecture about the players needing to execute. Spare us another October explanation that sounds suspiciously like the one we heard the year before.

WE'VE HEARD IT, HAL. FOR SEVEN YEARS, WE'VE HEARD IT. The players change. The seasons change. The excuses barely change. But the owner, the general manager, and the culture of avoiding meaningful consequences remain. And until that changes, why should anyone believe the results will? George Steinbrenner built a reputation on demanding answers. Hal Steinbrenner has built a reputation on repeating excuses.

That might be the saddest difference of all.

THE NEW YORK YANKEES DON'T NEED ANOTHER EXPLANATION. THEY NEED LEADERSHIP.

And Hal, after seven years of pointing fingers, maybe it's finally time to point one at yourself.

BLEEDING YANKEE BLUE

Because pinstripes are supposed to stand for something. You're delusional and have lose your way.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. IT'S TIME FOR YANKEE FANS TO BOYCOTT

It might be the dumbest move in sports.

Aaron Boone is coming back. Brian Cashman remains untouchable. Hal Steinbrenner continues to reward failure. The Yankees have become everything this franchise was never supposed to be.

Are you fucking kidding me? Boone is coming back. Nine seasons. Zero World Series championships. One American League pennant. An endless parade of embarrassing postseason exits, fundamental mistakes, lifeless performances, ridiculous excuses and promises that next year will somehow be different.

And the New York Yankees, in their infinite stupidity, have apparently decided that the answer is MORE AARON BOONE. You cannot make this shit up. No one wants this fucking guy.

According multiple reports, Boone will return to manage the Yankees in 2027, his tenth season running what was once the proudest franchise in professional sports.

Ten seasons. Think about that. This is the organization that gave us Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Thurman Munson, Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera.

Twenty-seven World Series championships. A tradition built on excellence, accountability, pride and the understanding that wearing those pinstripes was a privilege, not a lifetime employment guarantee.

And now? We have Hal Steinbrenner, Brian Cashman and Aaron Boone. 

The Three Stooges of Yankee Baseball.

An owner who appears completely disconnected from the expectations of his fan base. A general manager who has been allowed to operate with practically unlimited job security. And a manager who has somehow turned postseason humiliation into a renewable contract benefit. Mediocrity is alive and well. This isn't leadership. This is institutional incompetence.

Let's face it; Hal Steinbrenner is a man who inherited an empire and settled on "Just ok". This disaster begins with him.

Hal, what the hell are you doing? Your father built a baseball empire where winning mattered more than comfort, where failure had consequences, and where nobody was guaranteed a job simply because everyone liked him. George Steinbrenner could be unreasonable, impatient and downright impossible.

But you know what? He gave a damn about winning championships. Hal seems perfectly comfortable winning 90 games, selling millions of tickets, collecting television revenue and watching his team get embarrassed every October.

Under his leadership, the Yankees have become a franchise that celebrates simply getting invited to the postseason. That's not the Yankee standard. That's the standard of a team that's happy to participate.

Seventeen consecutive seasons without a World Series championship. Seventeen years of watching other organizations celebrate while the Yankees explain why everything will be better next season. Hal, your father didn't build the Yankees to become baseball's most expensive participation trophy.

You inherited the most recognizable brand in American sports, and you've allowed it to become a monument to complacency. You want to know what makes this even more infuriating?

The Yankees have the resources to fix this, but they won't. They have the money. They have the history. They have the fan base. They have every imaginable advantage. What they apparently don't have is an owner with the guts to demand meaningful change. Hal Steinbrenner isn't protecting the Yankee tradition. He's presiding over its slow destruction.

I am absolutely disappointed by this Yankees team. You should be too. Boycott the Yankees. 

They are absolutely not interested in winning a championship. They want to take your money. So, cancel you season tickets, go to Billy's or Stan's to watch the game instead of heading into that dreaded stadium.  The Yankees are not winners.  

Over the next few days, I will be sharing different posts about this lousy organization. And I will beg you to stop spending your hard-earned money on a franchise that is not interested in improving.  ALL THIS BULLSHIT STOPS THE MOMENT YOU STOP GOING TO YANKEE STADIUM.

It starts with the fans.  Make it hurt.

Stay tuned... more to come.

CLEAN HOUSE. LOSER CASHMAN’S YANKEES ARE A FAILURE.

AI Generated

Brian Cashman built this mess. Aaron Boone keeps explaining it. And Yankees fans keep getting charged championship prices to watch an organization congratulate itself for coming up short.

Enough.

The 2027 Yankees need a demolition crew. Start with the front office’s arrogance, work through the manager’s office, and stop treating disappointing players like priceless family heirlooms.

Austin Wells needs to be a backup catcher. Period.

A .186 batting average. A .624 OPS. Fourteen home runs and 32 RBIs. Those were his 2026 numbers. Somewhere along the way, the Yankees apparently decided an everyday catcher’s bat was an optional accessory.

Nobody is watching those at-bats and seeing Thurman Munson. They’re watching another Yankees development project whose reputation keeps arriving at the ballpark before his production does.

His defense has value. Fine. Make him the backup. A good glove should earn consideration; it shouldn’t grant lifetime immunity from hitting .186.

Cashman needs to find a starting catcher who can contribute offensively without requiring a presentation explaining why the contribution is secretly happening.

Anthony Volpe? Trade him. Immediately.

The Yankees sold fans a cornerstone. Four seasons into his major league career, the offensive foundation still looks like wet cardboard.

A career 83 OPS+ through 542 regular-season games is a substantial body of evidence. League average is 100. How much longer are we supposed to applaud the possibility that he eventually gets there?

The hometown story was lovely. The marketing department must have loved it. Unfortunately, the opposing pitcher doesn’t care where you went to high school.

My assessment of Volpe now? A reserve infielder. A guy backing up second base in Cincinnati. That’s an opinion about his role, not a report about a Reds trade.

The Yankees presented him like a destination when he was still a question. Then they made questioning him feel like a violation of team policy.

Fans deserved an honest evaluation. Instead, they got a sales pitch with pinstripes.

Trade him while another organization still believes it can unlock what the Yankees keep insisting is in there.

Then fire Aaron Boone.

No farewell tour. No discussion about how much the players love him. No more treating clubhouse approval like the final score.

A manager can have good relationships with his players and still demand excellence. With Boone, the reassurance is easy to find. The consequences are considerably harder.

From the outside, he looks like Cashman’s preferred spokesman wearing a uniform. The puppet criticism survives because the arrangement keeps producing the same spectacle: the roster fails, Boone explains, Cashman remains above the wreckage.

What, exactly, would constitute failure serious enough to change this?

The Yankees dismissed Joe Girardi on October 26, 2017, after an ALCS Game 7 loss. Cashman cited problems connecting and communicating with players.

Apparently, the organization solved the communication problem by hiring someone who can explain disappointment indefinitely.

Chicago moved on from Joe Maddon in September 2019 after a collapse cost the Cubs a playoff berth.

Accomplished managers lose jobs. Boone keeps getting another opportunity to tell us how close this group is.

Fire him. The Yankees need leadership with enough authority to make standards matter.

Jazz? Gone. We're done with the antics. We're done with the BS.

Trent Grisham? Pack up.

His 2026 salary was $22.025 million. His production: .211, 18 homers and a .703 OPS.

Twenty-two million dollars bought the Yankees another hitter fans needed to be talked into appreciating.

Cashman’s ability to spend enormous money and still leave obvious holes should be studied. Every winter brings another complicated explanation for why something underwhelming was actually clever.

Let Grisham walk. Stop paying for the memory of a better season.

David Bednar? I’d move on—but the numbers deserve an honest hearing.

He recorded 35 saves in 39 chances with a 2.47 ERA. That’s good pitching.

It also doesn’t obligate the Yankees to make him another expensive attachment while the lineup needs repairs.

My preference is to spend elsewhere and build a replacement plan. A good closer can protect a lead. He cannot manufacture a functional offense or repair Cashman’s judgment.

The closer’s entrance music should not be the most dependable part of the organizational plan.

Giancarlo Stanton? Confront reality already.

The healthy version of Stanton has been tremendous entertainment. The problem is that the healthy version has become somebody the Yankees keep expecting to visit.

Three calf strains cost him more than five months in 2026.

You cannot keep reserving a central place in the offense for a player whose availability requires crossed fingers and a medical briefing.

His contract makes an exit difficult. Releasing him would still leave money owed. Cashman has to deal with that reality instead of using it as permission to repeat the same gamble.

Stanton’s body has repeatedly failed him. The front office fails the roster when it keeps budgeting for a version of him it cannot reliably put on the field.

And that brings us to the man who should be answering for every inch of this:

Brian Cashman.

He evaluates the talent. He constructs the roster. He chooses the manager. He oversees the system that is supposed to develop the players.

Yet somehow, whenever the finished product disappoints, responsibility gets scattered until nobody can find it.

A player didn’t develop. Somebody got hurt. October is unpredictable. The roster looked good on paper.

Who keeps buying the paper?

Cashman cannot claim credit for the organization’s sophistication and then act like its recurring flaws are unfortunate weather.

If the same weaknesses keep surviving different rosters, examine the person assembling them. If the same excuses keep surviving different seasons, examine the people accepting them.

That includes Hal Steinbrenner. Ownership enables this comfort. Cashman has room to keep defending the process because the man above him keeps accepting the explanation.

Meanwhile, Aaron Judge keeps getting older.

That is the unforgivable part.

The Yankees have a player whose greatness should define an era. They are burning through his championship opportunities while debating whether another disappointing season really warrants an uncomfortable decision.

Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez have publicly questioned the organization’s approach. CC Sabathia has joined the criticism of its leadership and direction.

These are men who understand what winning here requires. The Yankees would be wise to spend less time defending themselves and more time considering why those voices are dissatisfied.

This franchise should be embarrassed.

Embarrassed by the excuses. Embarrassed by the complacency. Embarrassed that fans can identify the problems and still expect the offseason press conference to explain why most of them are coming back.

Change Wells’ role. Trade Volpe. Let Grisham leave. Make hard decisions about Bednar and Stanton.

Fire Boone.

And stop pretending Cashman deserves permanent protection from the results of his own work.

Because if Judge finishes his Yankees career without a championship, the organization will have plenty of time to celebrate his individual achievements.

It will also have to live with the fact that he gave them greatness—and they kept handing him this.

STOP SELLING ME THE 2026 YANKEES. LET THEM EARN IT FIRST.

I love the Yankees. That is precisely why I am tired of being told how much I am supposed to love this 2026 Yankees team.

There is a difference between rooting for the uniform and swallowing every story the organization wraps around the men wearing it. I want them to beat Boston on Tuesday. I want them to win the World Series. But I am not going to pretend that 93 wins erase what I have watched for six months, or that a postseason berth turns every underperformer into a folk hero. A ticket to October is an opportunity. It is not a personality transplant.

The Yankees have won despite losing Aaron Judge for most of the season. That is real. Cam Schlittler and the pitching staff have given fans plenty to admire. Ben Rice has hit 41 home runs. There are players here who have earned their applause, and there is a reason to believe this club can win a short series. But a record cannot make me feel something the baseball itself has not made me feel.

And too much of this Yankee baseball has felt like a sales pitch interrupted by strikeouts.

Look, I'm about to go on a ramble, but that's why you come to Bleeding Yankee Blue, right? There is a difference between winning and believing. I know that doesn't make alot of sense, but let me explain.

We start here. Remember 1996? Derek Jeter hit .314. Bernie Williams hit .305 with 29 homers and 102 RBIs. Paul O’Neill hit .302 and drove in 91. Joe Girardi, the catcher nobody marketed as an offensive savior, hit .294. The club hit .288, scored 871 runs and struck out 909 times. It won the World Series.

Through 161 games this year, the Yankees were hitting .235, with 739 runs and 1,480 strikeouts. They had hit 223 home runs, 61 more than the entire 1996 team. Those are different eras with different league-wide offensive conditions; raw averages alone do not settle which lineup was better relative to its competition. They do tell you what it has felt like to sit through an inning. In 1996, a hit could become another hit. In 2026, you can spend a lot of time waiting for one swing to redeem a parade of empty at-bats.

The ’96 club had imperfections. O’Neill did not hit in that postseason the way he did in the regular season, and Girardi was no slugger. That is the point: nobody needed to pretend they were something else. You knew what those guys brought, you watched them bring it, and eventually they delivered the last win of the year. Affection followed the work.

This 2026 organization seems to want the affection up front. So, in short, stop telling me who to love.

Look, Anthony Volpe was a neat story to initially. Local kid. Homegrown shortstop. It practically wrote the promotional copy itself. Then the games kept happening. In 56 big league games this year, before his August demotion, he hit .240 with one home run. The Yankees handed shortstop to George Lombard Jr. That was an admission, in the language that matters most, that the old plan was not good enough. And thank god they made this decision.

Volpe did decent in Scranton. He hit .264 with an .906 OPS in 37 games, came back when Jazz Chisholm Jr. was hurt, and hit a grand slam in his return. I cheered the hit. I still refuse to be told that one big night settles three years of arguments about his bat. Volpe once again, and predictably, hasn't done a thing since.  Look, the bottom line and the point I am trying to make is a fan can wish a player well and reject the insistence that he is a cornerstone before his performance says so.

That is where the marketing grates. The Yankees can promote a young player. Of course they can. But they cannot schedule a fan’s emotional attachment like a bobblehead giveaway. When the image gets ahead of the player, every commercial, every reassuring quote, every invitation to believe feels less like celebration and more like an instruction to ignore your own eyes. And I think that's what bothers me most about this 2026 team. Much of it is like fake news.

Look at Austin Wells. Wells presents the same problem without the hometown fairy tale. He was batting .186 after Friday’s game. You can tell me about his defense and the demands of catching, and I will listen. You can tell me catching is hard, and I will agree. But you cannot ask me to watch a regular in the Yankees’ lineup struggle to get above .185 and act as though this is a minor aesthetic complaint. Girardi hit .294 for the 1996 champs. Nobody needed a brochure explaining why a hit from the catcher mattered.

The criticism belongs with the people who keep assembling and endorsing the roster, too. Wells did not draft himself. Volpe did not make himself the face of a campaign. The front office and the manager decide how long a bet gets to occupy the lineup and how they explain it to the people paying to watch.

It is my opinion that Brian Cashman has had years to build a club whose weak spots do not keep arriving as familiar surprises. His defenders can point to 93 wins and a playoff berth, and they are entitled to. He also deserves credit for talent that has helped this team survive Judge’s injuries. But that is not the end of the accounting. A general manager does not get graded only on whether enough of his bets hit to reach a Wild Card Series. He gets graded on the holes fans could see coming, on the cost of carrying them, and on whether October exposes them again.

How many seasons are fans supposed to watch the Yankees sell potential where production is required? How many times are they supposed to hear that a struggling regular is close, that a new piece might be the answer, that the next stretch will show what this club really is? Hope is part of baseball. Hope cannot be the entire roster-building strategy of the New York Yankees.

And do not confuse this complaint with a demand for nine .300 hitters. I am asking for a front office to look honestly at its own team, then speak with the same honesty to its fans. When a player is not producing, adjust. When a prospect has not become the star you promised, stop selling the promise as an accomplishment.

Aaron Boone has guided an injury-hit club to October. That matters. Players appear to trust him, and his handling of the staff has helped the Yankees keep winning. He has also made harder lineup choices this year; the demotions and changing roles show he might finally understand how to manage, but for me, I still don't truly see it. My problem is the gap between the action and the public language. Boone’s reflex is to protect his players, reassure everybody, and find the sunny side of another ugly night. I can understand why players appreciate that. Fans who just watched the same failed at-bat for the hundredth time are allowed to find it maddening. Leadership means more than absorbing criticism for the clubhouse. It means making the standard unmistakable.

Joe Torre’s calm felt like control because the club on the field kept backing it up. There was also accountability. Boone’s calm, at its worst, feels like a press conference held in a different ballpark from the game I just watched. There are nights when I want a manager to say plainly what every fan saw: this was not good enough, and the people who keep getting chances must earn the next ones.

That does not mean humiliating Wells or Volpe. It means refusing to treat honesty as disloyalty. When it comes to Boone, there is no accountability. It's called coddling.

Now, Willie Randolph knows what a champion looks like. He lived through the Bronx Zoo, coached the 1996 champions, spent time with this year’s club in spring training, and sees camaraderie and pitching that he believes can carry the Yankees to a title. I respect the firsthand view. He also said his teams were sharper fundamentally.  

The Bronx Zoo was not just a collection of personalities and good chemistry. The 1977 and 1978 Yankees won consecutive World Series. Thurman Munson, Reggie Jackson, Graig Nettles, Ron Guidry, Randolph and the rest did their talking amid the circus by beating the people in the other dugout when the season was on the line. Randolph is entitled to see a resemblance in the room. I am entitled to say that the resemblance is incomplete until this 2026 team does the job.

I also wonder what, exactly, we are being asked to compare. The Bronx Zoo label was born from actual chaos, conflict, talent and championships. This team has an expertly managed image and an offense that can disappear for innings at a time. Calling them equal because they get along and have a deep rotation is like saying a movie poster is as good as the movie. Let me see the ending.

Here's my thing; the uniform is enough reason to root, but it's not enough reason to pretend. Does that make sense? 

I will be there on the couch for the first pitch against Boston. I will celebrate every Rice homer, every Schlittler strikeout, every Lombard play and every unlikely contribution from Volpe or Wells. 

But I am done letting the Yankees tell me that skepticism is a failure of fandom. Loving this team means caring whether the standards match the sales pitch. It means remembering the difference between a player with a great story and a player who has done the job. It means demanding more from Cashman than another clever explanation and more from Boone than another comforting one.

93 wins are real. So is the exhaustion of watching the organization try to sell us devotion to players who have not earned it yet. The 1996 Yankees earned theirs one at-bat and one October win at a time. The Bronx Zoo earned its place in history with championships.

These 2026 Yankees? They have a chance to change the conversation. Good. Let them. But until they do, stop asking me to fall in love with the advertisement. I am watching the games dude. I see everything.

That's my take.

--Robert Casey
Chief & Head Writer, Bleeding Yankee Blue

LOOK WHO SHOWED UP? YANKS SWEEP ROCKIES

Anthony Volpe finally did something to help the New York Yankees win a baseball game.

There. I said it.

In his return from Triple-A, Volpe went 3-for-4, drove in five runs and launched a grand slam as the Yankees beat Colorado 10-3 and completed the sweep. It was a hell of a game. Give him credit. He showed up when his number was called.

But everybody relax. I'm still not buying Anthony Volpe. 

First off, there were other Yankees who deserve some attention from last night. Luis García Jr. launched his 30th homer of the season, a two-run shot that got things started. Spencer Jones delivered a huge two-run single in the seventh. Cody Bellinger drove in a run, and Max Fried struck out seven while allowing just one run, although it took him 80 pitches to get through 3.1 innings. The bullpen did enough from there.

That's called a team win.

We aren't asking Volpe to be Derek Jeter. We're not asking him to be a superstar. We're asking him to become something resembling the player Yankee scouts told us he was going to be. That's it. Like Jesus, bat .280 on the year.

We've spent years hearing about the talent, the upside and the potential. Meanwhile, we've watched the inconsistency. So, one huge night against a Colorado team that has lost 100 games doesn't suddenly erase everything we've already seen. I'm a realist.

Was Volpe's adrenaline pumping after getting recalled? Absolutely. Did he look energized? Sure. Did he have a great game? Damn right.

But we've seen this movie before. A big game. A little hope. Everyone starts screaming that Volpe has "figured it out." Then comes another stretch where we're wondering what happened.

So, spare me the redemption tour after one night. I've been fooled for 3 years with this guy.

Am I happy for Volpe? No. I'm happy the Yankees won.

Volpe did his job, exactly what he was supposed to do. That's what I'm happy about. There is way too much emphasis placed on the fact that Anthony Volpe did it instead of what actually matters: the Yankees need to win this division.

So that's the story. This isn't about rebuilding Anthony Volpe's confidence or proving the Yankees were right about him. September isn't about protecting prospects, organizational pride or winning arguments.

It's about winning baseball games. Volpe helped them do that last night. Good. Do it again.

And again. Because one grand slam doesn't change my opinion of Anthony Volpe. But helping the Yankees get to first place might.

That's the standard now.

Win the damn division.

WHY ARE WE FORCING VOLPE ON THE NEW YORK YANKEES?

Apparently, Anthony Volpe is Barry Bonds now.

Wonderful.

Alert Cooperstown. Somebody get the plaque ready. Jasson Dominguez says Volpe has “become Barry Bonds” down in Triple-A, and while I understand a teammate pumping up another teammate, can we please come back to planet Earth for five freaking minutes?

Barry Bonds? Anthony Volpe has five homers in his last five games in Scranton. That's terrific.

Barry Bonds hit 762 home runs in the major leagues.

Small difference.

And before everybody starts screaming that I'm picking on poor Anthony again, understand something: I'm actually happy Volpe is hitting. Since being sent down, he's put up good numbers — .299/.393/.701 with 10 homers over 97 plate appearances.

Bravo. Seriously. Now leave him the hell down there.

Why is that controversial?

We've spent three years watching the Yankees try to hammer a square peg into a round hole while insisting that if they just hammer hard enough, eventually we're all going to see the superstar they promised us.

I'm tired. How many Anthony Volpe auditions does one organization get? He struggled. We waited. He struggled some more. We waited some more.

More adjustments. More patience. More Aaron Boone speeches about how Anthony is “really close.” Close to what?

Because apparently he's finally arrived — in Scranton. Maybe this isn't a comeback story. Maybe it's a discovery. Maybe we've finally located Anthony Volpe's natural habitat.

Triple-A.

Mean? Not really. This is reality. It's the article you will not read anywhere else. Sometimes honesty needs to peak through the looniness of this entire story.  Perhaps we've learned something incredibly important here.

When the lights aren't as bright, when Yankee Stadium isn't packed, when the New York media isn't hovering and when 40,000 people aren't wondering why you just chased another slider off the plate...

Anthony Volpe can rake. Great. Unfortunately, Yankee Stadium isn't moving to Scranton. The Bronx doesn't come with training wheels. Maybe New York is simply too damn big for Anthony Volpe.

It happens. Some guys walk into Yankee Stadium and become bigger. Other guys get swallowed by it. Maybe Volpe needs Miami or Kansas City. Seriously.

Send him somewhere he can play second base on a Tuesday night without every at-bat becoming a referendum on whether he's the next Derek Jeter. Let him breathe. Let him play. Let him figure himself out somewhere that doesn't require him to carry Yankee expectations around like a refrigerator strapped to his back.

Because I already know what's coming. September. Expanded rosters. Volpe keeps hitting bombs in Scranton. And somewhere inside Yankee Stadium, Aaron Boone starts getting that look in his eye. You know the look. His boy toy is hitting again. And Boone is going to want his boy toy back.

“Anthony's in a really good place right now.”

Oh, Jesus Christ. Here we go again. Boone's crush is coming home. Then we'll get the press conference.

“He's worked really hard. He's made some adjustments. We really like where he's at. He's impacting the baseball.”

Maybe Boone will even tell us he's been “elite.” They love that word over there. And before Volpe's Scranton apartment has even cooled off, Volpe will be back in the Bronx and we'll begin another exciting season of Everybody Pretend Anthony Volpe Has Finally Figured It Out.

Why?

Leave. Him. Down. There.

For once, let the kid actually develop. If he's finally comfortable, let him stay comfortable. Give him 200 more plate appearances. Give him 300. Hell call him Scranton's Captain for crying out loud!

Let him destroy Triple-A pitching until the International League files a restraining order.

There is absolutely no rule saying that because Anthony Volpe gets hot in Scranton, the Yankees must immediately drag him back to New York to see whether he can find a brand-new way to disappoint everybody.

Meanwhile, George Lombard Jr. is here and he's better anyway. So play him! Stop treating the Yankees' major-league roster like Boone's boy toy has a lifetime membership.

And please stop pretending Triple-A success means the Yankees were right about Volpe all along.

Maybe the scouts weren't completely wrong about Anthony Volpe. Maybe they just had the wrong league... on the smaller stage, without the suffocating pressure and expectations of New York, Anthony Volpe really can be a star.

Beautiful.

Then let him be the Babe Ruth of Scranton. Let him hit 40... 60.

I'll send flowers.

But until Anthony Volpe proves he can consistently hit major-league pitching, spare me the Barry Bonds comparisons. Barry Bonds terrorized major-league pitchers.

Anthony Volpe is currently terrorizing Triple-A.

Pump the freaking breaks, Jasson.

This one's for you Boh.

ALL THE TOOLS ARE THERE. LET LOMBARD COOK.

Let’s state something for the record: since George Lombard Jr. arrived in the big leagues, he has been a breath of fresh air.

Actually, make that a huge breath of fresh air that the Yankees desperately needed. The kid looks like he belongs. He moves like a natural athlete, plays with energy, runs the bases aggressively and — imagine this — actually looks comfortable playing shortstop for the New York Yankees.

 

Since his arrival, the Yankees have been playing better baseball, and Lombard has already found ways to contribute beyond the box score. On Wednesday in Baltimore, for example, he drove in two runs, including the go-ahead run in the eighth inning of a 5-3 Yankees win, not the mention homers, smooth fielding plays, great instincts.

And this is precisely why I have a problem with anyone suddenly reaching for the panic button when the kid screws something up. Because he will screw something up. He's a kid.

Friday night against Toronto, Lombard dropped a foul ball at shortstop. It was an error. It wasn't pretty.

So what?

He's 21 years old.

Back on July 26, before Lombard ever stepped onto a major-league field, I wrote this:

“Will George Lombard Jr. struggle when he gets to New York?

Of course he will. Every rookie does.

Aaron Judge struggled. Derek Jeter struggled.

The difference is those struggles come attached to legitimate upside. They're part of developing a player whose ceiling still looks incredibly high. With Volpe, Yankees fans aren't watching growing pains anymore. They're watching the same movie over and over, hoping the ending changes. It hasn't.”

And that is exactly where I still stand. There is absolutely no comparison between what we're watching with Lombard and what we watched for years with Anthony Volpe.

The Yankees handed Volpe the major-league shortstop job and essentially decided to finish his development in the Bronx. The training wheels were attached while the Yankees were trying to win baseball games. Mistakes became patterns. Patterns became seasons. And eventually Volpe, at 25 years old, was sent back to the minors.

Lombard's situation is totally different. The Yankees drafted him in 2023 and developed him through their system slowly. He earned his promotions. In 2026, he hit .284 with a .411 on-base percentage and .909 OPS in the minors before getting the call.

Then he arrived in New York and immediately looked like he belonged. His first major-league hit was a home run, and he flashed the glove immediately in his debut. As of Saturday morning, Lombard is hitting .292 with a .352 OBP and .790 OPS through his first 48 major-league at-bats.

That's not a finished product. That's the point. Lombard is a kid playing Major League Baseball. There will be errors. There will be bad at-bats. There will eventually be a slump because major-league pitchers have this annoying habit of adjusting to hitters. Then Lombard will have to adjust back. But let me be clear, it will be nothing in comparison to Anthony Volpe. Volpe was not ready and the Yankees forced him down our throats. Lombard? Lombard IS ready.

That's why I don't want to hear the overreaction if Lombard make a mistake. He's going to make rookie mistakes because — breaking news — he's a rookie.   I believed Lombard would eventually grab the spotlight because the athletic ability was obvious. Now we're seeing it.

So, enjoy the kid. Let him play. Let him screw up occasionally. And when he eventually goes 2-for-20 and somebody declares that pitchers have “figured him out,” everybody please remember what we're actually watching. We're not watching Anthony Volpe all over again.

We're watching a 21-year-old legitimate major-league talent learning how to become a major-league star. There is a very big difference.

And right now, George Lombard Jr. looks like he belongs exactly where he is.

THIS FEELS LIKE YANKEE BASEBALL AGAIN!

Something strange happened while I watched the Yankees beat the Braves 5-4 today. I wasn't stressed out. I wasn't waiting for the stupid mistake, the lifeless at-bat or the inevitable Yankee self-destruction. I was actually sitting there enjoying baseball.

Imagine that.

The energy around this team has changed, and for me, George Lombard Jr. is right in the middle of it. The kid has been in the majors for less than a week, yet he already carries himself like he belongs here. It's not just the talent. It's the athleticism, professionalism and class. There is a confidence about Lombard that doesn't feel forced. He plays hard, handles himself the right way and brings an energy this team desperately needed.

Then he goes out Saturday and launches his second major-league home run. This kid is 21 years old. I'm not crowning him Derek Jeter. I'm not doing that nonsense. But there is something about the way Lombard carries himself in pinstripes that gets your attention. He looks comfortable. He looks prepared. Most importantly, he looks like he's having fun.

And that feeling is spreading. Spencer Jones was another huge part of it today.

Jones drove in two runs today, including a go-ahead triple against Chris Sale. That's what I've been waiting to see from these young players. Not hype. Not prospect rankings, not stuff that the Yankees are telling me these players are supposed to be. Just them being them. No Drama. Production in important moments against great players.

Jones and Lombard have injected athleticism and unpredictability into a Yankee lineup that too often felt slow and stale. Suddenly, I want to see what happens next.

And none of this works without pitching.

Gerrit Cole looked like Gerrit Cole.  Seven innings. Two runs. Nine strikeouts. He also became the fastest pitcher in Yankee history to reach 1,000 strikeouts with the club. But forget the milestone for a second. Cole pitched like an ace. That's what matters.

He went toe-to-toe with Sale and gave his team seven strong innings. If the Yankees are going anywhere meaningful, that's the Gerrit Cole they need. Yes, the bullpen made the ninth inning more interesting than necessary. Bednar eventually shut the door and the Yankees walked away with another win.

But I'm looking beyond one Saturday afternoon. This team feels different. For too long, watching the Yankees felt like work. Every game came with aggravation. Bad fundamentals. Bad decisions. Bad energy. Even wins sometimes felt exhausting. I was literally pissed off every day.

Right now I'm watching George Lombard Jr. and Spencer Jones and feeling something I haven't felt enough watching this team.

It's Fun.

Lombard especially has changed the temperature for me. There is a professionalism and maturity to this kid that jumps off the screen. He doesn't need theatrics. He just plays baseball, and he plays it beautifully. That's what Yankee baseball should look like.

Good young players. Athleticism. Great pitching. Energy. And fans actually enjoying themselves again. Maybe it's only the beginning. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Who knows.

For the first time in a while, I'm not watching the Yankees wondering how they're going to screw it up. I'm watching to see what George Lombard Jr. is going to do next. And somehow, this 21-year-old kid has made me believe again.

Wow, I miss that feeling. 

Meanwhile... Austin Wells is batting .170.  Next on the chopping block? Man I hope so.  We need a clean team... no more dead weight!

OLD TIMERS’ DAY: WHEN BEING A YANKEE ACTUALLY MEANT SOMETHING

There is something about Old-Timers’ Day at Yankee Stadium that gets me every single time. Maybe it’s the uniforms, maybe it’s hearing those familiar names announced again, or maybe it’s watching men who once seemed larger than life walk onto the field a little slower, carrying a few extra pounds and a lot more gray hair, while your brain stubbornly remembers them exactly as they were. Whatever it is, the day has a way of getting inside you. And maybe Old-Timers’ Day hits even harder now because it reminds us of something the current Yankees organization seems to have forgotten: being a Yankee used to mean you earned something.

Old-Timers’ Day has always been baseball’s version of a family reunion, and nobody does baseball history quite like the Yankees. The tradition connects generations, reaching all the way back to the emotional days surrounding Lou Gehrig’s farewell in 1939. Over time, it became something uniquely Yankee. The history of this franchise isn’t locked away in a museum or confined to grainy old film clips. Once a year, some of that history actually walks back onto the field, waves to the crowd and reminds you exactly why you fell in love with baseball in the first place.

There was a time when Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio were the final two Yankees introduced. Think about that for a second. The Mick and Joe D. Eventually, that honor belonged to Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra. There were also those wonderful years when Phil Rizzuto and Bobby Murcer weren’t simply former Yankees returning for a ceremony; they were broadcasters who would put the pinstripes back on, wander onto the field and somehow make you believe that nothing had really changed. Of course, everything had changed. That's the cruel little trick baseball plays on us. It moves slowly when we're watching it and unbelievably fast when we look backward.

And now we're apparently living in a world where Andy Pettitte, Jorge Posada and Mariano Rivera qualify as old-timers. Are you kidding me? I watched these guys play. I remember Pettitte peeking over his glove, Posada grinding through at-bats and the opening notes of “Enter Sandman” telling everybody in Yankee Stadium that Mariano was about to shut the door. Those guys aren't supposed to be old-timers. They're supposed to be the guys we watched while the old-timers were being introduced. Yet here we are. That happened pretty damn fast, didn't it?

My guys will always be the Ron Guidrys of the world because that was my generation. Louisiana Lightning was one of those Yankees who made baseball feel magical to me. But that is also the beauty of Old-Timers’ Day: everybody has their guys. Your father had his, you have yours, and your kids will eventually have theirs. If we're lucky enough, someday the players our children worship today will walk onto that same field with gray hair while our kids sit in the stands wondering where 30 years went.

Chris Chambliss

That's baseball. It gets handed down. Father to son, mother to daughter, grandfather to grandson. Families once gathered around radios, then televisions, and now they're watching games on phones and tablets. The technology changes, but the conversations don't. We still complain about umpires, argue about managers, second-guess pitching changes and somehow convince ourselves every April that this could finally be the year. Baseball will break your heart one night and give you a memory you'll carry for the rest of your life the next afternoon. That's the deal we make with this game, and for some reason we keep coming back.

But Old-Timers’ Day also reminds me of something else, especially when I look at the way the modern Yankees operate. Standards used to matter, and opportunities were earned. Players earned jobs, earned patience and earned the right to stay in the lineup. Accomplishments felt bigger because everybody understood how difficult it was to get there. There wasn't this endless organizational obsession with proving the front office was right about somebody simply because admitting a mistake might make Brian Cashman uncomfortable. If a guy performed, he played. If he didn't, somebody else eventually got his opportunity. It was a remarkably sophisticated baseball philosophy known as playing the guys who deserved to play. Maybe Aaron Boone needs somebody from analytics to build him a PowerPoint presentation explaining it.

That's what makes Old-Timers’ Day such an interesting contrast to the current Yankees. Look at the men walking onto that field and think about what many of them represented. Toughness, accountability, pride and an understanding that wearing pinstripes didn't automatically make you special. Winning in them did. Producing when the pressure was greatest did. Earning the respect of Yankee fans did.

Today, the organization too often seems to want the uniform itself to provide the credibility. We hear about process, underlying numbers and quality at-bats. Somebody goes 0-for-4 and Boone tells us there were some “really good swings” in there. A player struggles for months and we're assured he's “really close.” The Yankees lose a brutal game and we're told there were still “a lot of good things” happening. Great. Put it on a plaque and hang it next to the championship banners: 2026 New York Yankees — A Lot of Good Things Happened.

The Yankees of previous generations didn't build this franchise on encouraging postgame press conferences. They built it on results. Ron Guidry didn't need the organization explaining why you weren't actually seeing what you thought you were seeing. Mariano Rivera didn't require a spreadsheet to convince anybody he was dominant. Derek Jeter didn't need three years of excuses and organizational spin. Bernie Williams didn't need Brian Cashman appearing in front of reporters to explain that some internal metric suggested Bernie was secretly playing terrific baseball. Those guys played, they produced, and they earned their place.

That's why these old Yankees mean something to us. They aren't simply names on Baseball Reference or numbers printed on the back of throwback jerseys. They're memories. They're summers and October nights. They're your father screaming at the television. They're your grandfather telling you for the 900th time that baseball was better when he was young. You rolled your eyes at him then, and eventually you got older and started telling the same damn stories yourself. Funny how that works.

Saturday also brought one of those moments that reminds us Old-Timers’ Day isn't simply about nostalgia and applause. Sometimes it's about saying goodbye. Tommy John couldn't be there. At 83 years old and dealing with serious health problems in recent years, John sent an emotional message to the Yankees thanking the organization, the Steinbrenner family and the fans who followed him throughout his remarkable 26-year career. He also remembered Dr. Frank Jobe, the surgeon forever connected to the operation that saved John's career and eventually changed the sport.

John thanked the Yankees for giving him an opportunity to say goodbye to everyone, and those words are difficult to hear without feeling something. Forget wins, losses and statistics for a moment. Forget Cashman and Boone. This was an 83-year-old man looking back at an extraordinary baseball life and thanking the people who shared some part of the journey with him. We throw around the phrase “Tommy John surgery” so casually now that sometimes we forget Tommy John is actually a person. He was a pitcher, a Yankee and a man whose willingness to attempt something radical with Dr. Jobe more than 50 years ago ultimately helped thousands of pitchers who came after him.

That's the part of Old-Timers’ Day that matters most. For all the championships and famous names, baseball ultimately comes back to people. It comes back to family, memory and the people sitting next to you while you're watching the game. That's why you can remember a random Yankee game from 40 years ago and also remember exactly where you were, who was sitting beside you and what your father said when somebody hit the home run. Baseball somehow attaches itself to our lives that way.

Maybe that's also why Old-Timers’ Day feels even more important today, because the modern Yankees sometimes seem determined to convince everybody that baseball has become impossibly complicated. It really isn't. Play hard. Perform. Earn your opportunity. Win. And understand what the uniform represents. George Steinbrenner certainly had his faults—and there were plenty—but there was never any confusion about the expectation. Winning mattered to him. Losing bothered him. Failure wasn't endlessly repackaged as progress.

That's one of my biggest problems with this current organization. Sometimes I watch the Yankees and wonder whether losing actually bothers anybody in charge anymore. A terrible loss happens and Boone walks into the press conference sounding like the team just completed a successful corporate retreat. Cashman periodically emerges to explain why the roster he constructed isn't really the problem, and fans are expected to accept it because apparently expecting the New York Yankees to behave like the New York Yankees has somehow become unreasonable.

Then Old-Timers’ Day arrives, and for a few hours all that garbage disappears. 

Guidry walks onto the field. Pettitte comes out. Matsui and Posada appear. Mariano waves to the crowd. You hear the applause and suddenly remember what this franchise is supposed to feel like. There was pride attached to those pinstripes. There were standards. There was accountability. There was an understanding that playing for the Yankees wasn't the accomplishment; what you did while wearing the uniform was the accomplishment.

Baseball has changed tremendously. Some of those changes have made the game better, and some absolutely have not. But Old-Timers’ Day cuts through all of it. For a few hours, nobody cares about exit velocity, launch angle or whatever obscure metric the Yankees have decided explains why the guy hitting .210 is actually doing a fantastic job. Nobody needs Brian Cashman to explain the roster, and nobody needs Aaron Boone to tell us somebody put together a few good swings.

Instead, you hear a familiar name announced over the Yankee Stadium speakers and suddenly you're 12 years old again. For me, Guidry is dealing. Reggie is coming up with runners on base. For somebody a little younger, Pettitte is staring over his glove, Posada is digging into the box and Mariano is making that walk from the bullpen. Somebody younger still will have an entirely different group of Yankees that takes them back.

That's the whole point.

Baseball isn't really measured in innings, WAR, exit velocity or championship rings. In the end, it's measured in memories and the people with whom you shared them. Old-Timers’ Day gives us a few wonderful hours when those memories come walking back onto the field. It reminds us where we've been, who we watched with our fathers and who we'll eventually tell our children about.

And maybe, just maybe, while all those old Yankees are standing out there, the people currently running this franchise should take a good look at them.

Because those pinstripes didn't become famous because everybody was comfortable. They didn't become famous because the manager protected everybody from criticism or because the general manager refused to admit when his plan wasn't working. They became famous because generations of players understood that getting to Yankee Stadium wasn't the finish line.

You had to earn what came next.

That's what made those players Yankees.

That's what made the achievements worth celebrating.

And that's why, every Old-Timers’ Day, seeing those guys come home still means so damn much.