Boone & The Analytics Department Lost Game 1 For The Yankees

It was predictable. Everyone with half a brain knew Garrett Crochet was going to carve the Yankees. He’s that good. The guy’s not just solid—he’s a freak of nature, the type of pitcher who makes professional hitters look like they’re holding pool noodles instead of bats. And the cruel twist? Crochet has the Yankees’ number. He doesn’t just beat them—he humiliates them. So, when I say I expected the loss tonight, I’m not being dramatic. I was just being realistic.

Now, Max Fried. My guy. One of my favorites. He’s as good as advertised—an absolute horse. He’s a four-pitch maestro, he competes, and he wanted the ball. He earned the ball. And yet, somehow, the Yankees’ brain trust—if you can call it that without choking on the irony—decided to pull him. Fried is still better than 90% of the arms in that bullpen. But apparently, the spreadsheet said otherwise. So, in trots Luke Weaver, who, let’s be honest, has about as much variety as a dollar-menu cheeseburger. Two pitches compared to Max’s 4. I mean, what did you think was gonna happen? Max Fried called out Boone tonight after the game.  They asked if he had more left in the tank. Fried said, “Yeah, I felt good….I had enough in the tank.”  Boone is a fucking idiot.

This is the Yankees’ analytics department in a nutshell: run by numbers nerds who’ve never thrown a ball harder than 45 mph in their lives. They treat pitchers like they’re apps you can just “close out” and “reopen” when the matchup looks prettier on an Excel sheet. Meanwhile, the game is happening in real life. Max Fried isn’t a column of data—he’s a competitor. He wanted the damn ball, and he still had plenty left. But no, Fishman and his crew of Ivy League “geniuses” decided it was time to meddle again. And Aaron Boone? Well, he’s too dumb and too soft to push back. He’s just the smiling puppet nodding along as the front office tugs his strings.

Then there’s Anthony Volpe. When I saw his name in the lineup, my immediate thought was: “This motherfucker didn’t even earn a playoff start. Why the hell is he there?” But sure enough, he runs into a pitch and parks one in the seats. Great. Good job, Anthony. You did your job for once. The problem? Boone acted like he’d just witnessed the Second Coming. He practically splooged all over the microphone when a reporter asked him about it. I mean, calm down—it was a solo shot in a game you lost. Nobody’s building a monument over it.

And don’t get me started on Jazz Chisholm. Why was he riding the bench until the 8th inning? This is a 30-30 player, an everyday sparkplug, a guy who brings swagger and production. But apparently, the analytics department’s Magic 8-Ball said tonight wasn’t his night. By the time Jazz got in, he was steaming, and rightfully so. You don’t waste a talent like that until garbage time. Boone once again looked clueless, fumbling his way through the decision like a substitute teacher who lost the lesson plan.

Let’s not pretend we didn’t all see this coming. Crochet was always going to shove. That part wasn’t shocking. What was shocking—scratch that—what was infuriating was the way the Yankees actively sabotaged themselves tonight. This wasn’t just Crochet’s brilliance. This was organizational malpractice. Boone and the analytics department straight-up handed this game away.

Max Fried pitched his heart out. He had the game in control. And instead of letting your ace ride it out, you piss all over his effort because some formula says “third time through the order” is scary. Newsflash: the other team is scary too, and pulling your ace in favor of Luke Weaver doesn’t suddenly make Crochet throw fewer strikes. You don’t win playoff games with Microsoft Excel—you win them with guts, instincts, and players who actually know what the hell they’re doing. 

But that’s the Yankees’ problem, isn’t it? The front office is obsessed with looking like the smartest guys in the room. They think they’re reinventing baseball when really they’re just burning it to the ground. And Boone? He’s not a leader. He’s a yes-man. A cardboard cutout in a hoodie. A motivational speaker without the motivation. When your manager’s biggest contribution to a loss is gushing over Anthony Volpe’s solo homer, you know you’re screwed.

So, did I expect a win tonight? No. Crochet was always going to dominate. But did Boone and Michael Fishman make sure there was zero chance of stealing one? Absolutely. They stripped the Yankees of their one shot by yanking Fried and screwing with the lineup. That’s not leadership—that’s sabotage.

Tomorrow? Who knows. Depends which Carlos Rodón shows up—the bulldog or the batting-practice machine. But tonight? Tonight was an unmitigated disaster. Proof that a solo homer from Volpe means jack shit when the organization is too stupid to get out of its own way.

The Yankees lost. Nobody should be surprised. This is what happens when you let analytics nerds and a dumbass manager run the show.

#FireBoone