The Volpe Temper Tantrum That Blew Up

Listen, we get it — it must be stressful being Anthony Volpe’s dad. Your kid is trying to play shortstop under the brightest lights in baseball, and the New York crowd is letting him hear it every time he boots another routine grounder or swings through a 92 MPH fastball like it’s invisible. That can’t be fun. But let’s pause the violins for a second… because Anthony Volpe shouldn’t even be in the major leagues.

Why? Simple: he’s not a major leaguer. He’s a Jersey kid, drafted out of high school with a great smile, probably had a few Yankee connections courtesy of Papa Volpe, skipped college ball entirely, and the Yankees — suckers for marketable babyfaces — rushed him through the minors like it was a Disney+ origin story. No seasoning, no patience, just vibes and some spreadsheet from Michael Fishman, who might currently be doing more damage to this franchise than Boone and Cashman combined (and that’s saying something).

Fast forward to 2025, and Volpe’s playing like he’s still taking finals at Delbarton. Every at-bat feels like a science experiment gone wrong. Every throw to first base is a coin flip. And every time someone says “he’s just a kid” — yeah, well, maybe he should be playing with the other kids… in Triple-A.

Back to Daddy Volpe. Over the weekend, video surfaced of him jawing at Mets fans — and not from some fancy suite either. Nope, he’s down in the regular seats, doing his best “Do you know who my son is?” routine. After a fan started chirping (as Mets fans do, especially when your kid is batting .187), Daddy Volpe snapped:

“Bad-mouthing my son? F*** you!”

He screamed it, repeated it, had to be held back. This is real footage, not a deleted scene from The Sopranos.  It’s below.

Look — no one wants to see their kid criticized. But what did he expect? You’re sitting in a baseball stadium, not your backyard wiffleball tournament. Volpe’s been sold to us as “the future,” but it’s becoming painfully clear the Yankees just shrink-wrapped a minor leaguer and slapped a premium price tag on him. And guess what? It worked. The family got paid. The Yankees got their PR moment. And the fans? We got stuck with another overhyped infielder hitting like Mario Mendoza on a bad day.

This is the Yankees’ fault. 100%. They created this mess. Boone, Fishman, and Cashman decided that Volpe was The Guy before he earned it. And now that it’s backfiring? They’re still doubling down. It’s delusional.

Meanwhile, people like Neil Keefe (who nails this regularly) pointed out the absurdity of Boone saying Volpe can be a good player… and then saying he has been one already. Huh? Either he’s been good or he hasn’t. You don’t get to lie to our faces and misquote a dictionary. Boone used the word “ascension” like he’s doing Mad Libs with no clue what the words mean. Volpe isn’t ascending. He’s not even treading water. He’s sinking, fast — and taking this team with him.

At this point, even IKF is somewhere laughing.

And while we’re at it — let’s talk about Jomboy Media. They originally posted the video of Volpe Sr. going full WWE on Mets fans… and then poof, the video was gone. 

Why? Because Jomboy Media plays nice with the Yankees. But something must have happened.

Luckily Barstool grabbed it before it disappeared into the PR void.

Anthony Volpe’s dad was getting into it with some Mets fans

pic.twitter.com/gD2n1JNJZ9

— Barstool New York (@BarstoolNYC) July 7, 2025

This whole situation is pathetic. The Yankees tried to script a fairy tale with Volpe. A local kid makes good. But what we got instead is a classic cautionary tale of what happens when hype trumps development.

The Volpe Experiment is over. Send him down, let him breathe, and tell his father to stop yelling “f*** you” in a stadium filled with kids who already heard worse from Boone’s bullpen decisions.

And Mr. Volpe? Apologize. 

Your son’s struggles aren’t the fans’ fault. They’re yours — for buying into the myth and expecting the rest of us to cheer for mediocrity.

The Yankees need to own this mess. The fans are done waiting for “ascension.” We want results — not excuses. And certainly not tantrums from row 12.

The narrative is tired. The act is stale. And it’s time we all admit what we’re watching.

This isn’t baseball’s next superstar. This is a misfire. And by the way, that’s OK, but he’s got to be removed!