The End Of Verdugo This Season?

Wow!

The Braves have designated Alex Verdugo for assignment to make room for Jurickson Profar, and all I can think is: how did we get here? How did he get here?

Verdugo is 29. That’s not old. That’s not “washed.” That’s “should still be slugging doubles into the gap and firing missiles from right field” territory. But here we are, DFA’d in July like he’s just some roster filler, and not the passionate, fiery outfielder who once carried himself like he belonged in the thick of every big moment.

And yeah, let’s not pretend this is actually the end. This league has seen worse players get third, fourth, and fifth chances. But it feels like the end right now, and that’s the problem. Because Verdugo isn’t some lazy journeyman who never gave a damn. He cared. You could see it in the way he played—when he was allowed to just play. This is a guy who has always brought energy to the field. A gamer. A spark plug. A guy who clearly loves the grind.

And yet somehow, the Yankees got ahold of him and—poof—he’s unraveling like a loose thread on a 99-dollar replica jersey.

Remember when he was the Dodgers’ top prospect? Remember when Boston flipped Mookie Betts for him? It didn’t pan out in Boston. He clashed with Alex Cora, sure—but “lack of hustle?” Come on. I rip guys who don’t hustle. Just ask Robinson Cano (read HERE). Ask Anthony Volpe (read HERE). But Verdugo? He was never the problem.

Then came the trade to New York. The pinstripes. The “fresh start.” Except… was it really? Or was it just another case of this black hole of a franchise chewing up another guy who actually plays with heart?

In 197 plate appearances this season with the Braves, Verdugo slashed .239/.296/.585. No home runs. 12 RBIs. Not good. But you don’t go from promising outfielder to DFA’d by two teams without something deeper being wrong. And no, I don’t think it’s Verdugo. I think it’s the Yankees. They turned him into a shell of the player we once saw as a clubhouse energizer and everyday guy. They stuck him in a lineup with zero identity and a manager who couldn’t lead a jog around the block, let alone a major league clubhouse. I say it jokingly, because that’s where he seemed to vanish.

So yeah, I feel for Verdugo. I hope he latches on somewhere—hell, maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow after dreaming that the Yankees bring him back on a minor league deal, he starts raking, gets called up, goes full October legend and leads us to a ring.

And then I’ll write that piece, happily. But don’t worry—I’ll still say Boone sucks. Because no matter who’s in the dugout or on the field, that part hasn’t changed.

I hope Alex latches on somewhere.