Monthly Archives: June 2025

I suppose it isn’t time to panic just yet, but it’s past time to be concerned. One game shy of the season’s halfway mark, the Yankees sit at 46-34 with a suddenly uncomfortable half-game lead in the American League East. They enjoyed a seven-game lead in late May, and most experts agreed that it was genuine. The surprising strength of their pitching staff combined with an elite offense had powered the team to one of the top records in the game, and expectations were high.

And then June arrived. While it wouldn’t have shocked anyone if Carlos Rodón had turned back into a pumpkin or if Clarke Schmidt had reverted to his previous four-inning form, the problem was with the offense. Take a look…

The counting stats will look at least a little bit better after the last four days of June, but the OPS numbers don’t lie. Jazz Chisholm missed all of May, so he’s hot right now instead, but everyone else in the lineup has declined either a little bit (Judge, but we’ll allow it) or a significant amount (Volpe, Bellinger, Grisham, Rice). Goldschmidt hasn’t just declined, he’s cratered to the point that anyone paying attention has to realize it’s time for a straight platoon at first base with Goldschmidt and Rice.

If you need evidence beyond what your eyes have been telling you, consider this. Rice is slashing .263/.358/.514 against righties, well over a hundred points better in each stat than he is against lefties, and Goldie is at .408/.494/.711 against southpaws, numbers that are staggering in comparison to the counter — .244/.287/.330. Think about that. This team has a first baseman that’s slugging .330 against righties.

The dip in individual offensive numbers has exposed this team’s larger problem. They are simply allergic to — and stop me if you’ve heard this one before — situational hitting. Aaron Judge should continue doing what he’s doing — swinging hard at every pitch that’s to his liking — but everyone else needs to look in the mirror. (Or at least angle that mirror so it’s reflecting an image of Cody Bellinger, the only hitter in the lineup who appears to alter his swing with two strikes.)

I don’t need to see a sacrifice bunt every time a player reaches base, but hitting to the right side with no outs and a runner on second would be nice, especially in extra innings. Winning is easy when you hit eight or nine home runs in a three game series, but when things begin to go sour as they have over the past three weeks, an extra run here or there can mask some of the individual slumps plaguing the lineup, and the dividends would extend beyond the boxscore. Don’t you think it would help Anthony Volpe to hear some cheers and get a few pats on the back for a ground ball to second base? And couldn’t that morale boost lead to a more relaxed at bat the next time he steps to the plate?

Some things just make sense. But what do I know?

[Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.]

As I look back over my 48 years as a Yankee fan — I can pinpoint the date of indoctrination, August 29, 1977 — there can be no question that most enjoyable era was the late 90s and early 2000s, but what’s interesting to me is that the postseason runs and World Series championships aren’t the only highlights. What really stands out in my memory are the games against the Boston Red Sox.

Because I was geographically removed from the Yankees out here on the West Coast, my knowledge of the rivalry came from books about the 1940s and ’50s and all the stories I learned about Joe DiMaggio and Ted Williams. I remember watching the playoff game in 1978 and celebrating Bucky Dent’s home run, but in my eight-year-old mind it was just a dramatic win to move my team forward in the playoffs; I didn’t feel the thrill of watching a rival go down in defeat.

But then when the Yankees entered their golden era in the 1990s, pulling the Red Sox along with them, I finally understood. Every game during those days was theater, with villains in every corner of Fenway Park. When I took the family to see a game at the Old Stadium during its final year, I happened to be standing at a souvenir stand looking at a television screen showing highlights of a Red Sox win. The fan next to me looked up at the image and said, “Fuckin’ Youkilis.” He looked at me for agreement, but noticed I was holding my three-year-old daughter. “Oh, sorry about that,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry. I feel exactly the same way. Better she learn it now than later.” (Spoiler alert: that daughter is now a sophomore at Boston University and, because she’s nineteen, loves nothing more than joking about becoming a Red Sox fan.)

So whether it was Pedro or Nomar, Manny or Papi, Varitek or Pedroia, the Red Sox have always had a cast of characters worthy of fear or hatred or both.

These Red Sox? Not so much. But it’s still the Red Sox, and it’s still Fenway Park. Here’s hoping the Yankees get a couple wins this weekend, even if there’s a little less theater than we’re used to.