Boone Doesn't Get To Choose If Volpe Gets Sent Down!

Can we all finally admit that nothing Aaron Boone says carries an ounce of weight? The man’s press conferences are basically baseball’s version of a puppet show—except with worse punchlines. Everyone knows Boone doesn’t set the lineup, he doesn’t decide who goes to Scranton, and his creepy fixation on Anthony Volpe is… well, let’s just say it makes Yankee fans more uncomfortable than a rain delay with Dave Sims stuck in the booth.

And yet, here we are. It’s late August, Volpe is still out there putting together the kind of offensive résumé that makes Mario Mendoza look like a middle-of-the-order slugger, and Boone’s still out here calling him “elite.” Elite at what, exactly? Standing in the on-deck circle? Looking lost at the plate? Boone acts like Volpe’s OPS from high school wood bat tournaments should earn him lifetime tenure as the Yankees’ shortstop.

Let’s rewind: way back in April, Bleeding Yankee Blue (shoutout to us for being ahead of the curve) was already saying what needed to be said—ship Volpe to Scranton. He wasn’t hitting, he wasn’t showing fundamentals, and the fanbase could see it with their own eyes. I even had a conversation with my coffee guy in the city—a die-hard Yankee fan—who said, “They gotta ship Volpe to the minors. He doesn’t know how to hit!” And honestly, my coffee guy sparked this conversation. Read CALLS FOR VOLPE TO BE SHIPPED TO SCRANTON for more.

Fast forward to now, and finally, someone in the media asked Boone about sending Volpe down. Boone’s response? Comedy gold. He actually said:

“What planet does that guy get sent down? I don’t know that planet.”

Aaron, buddy, that planet is called Earth. Here. Right now. It’s the same planet where players who can’t hit above the Mendoza Line get demoted.

But Boone isn’t just wrong—he’s predictable. He doubled down with the usual “he’s mentally strong, he’ll get through this” bullshit. Boone’s always got this weird mix of dad-coach clichés and fantasy land projections, like he’s reading from a Hallmark card instead of managing the New York Yankees. Meanwhile, fans are left watching Volpe flail at the plate night after night while being told he’s secretly great. And Boone sits there saying “He’s trying.”

Here’s the bottom line: Volpe isn’t cutting it, and the fans know it. Boone can fight for him all he wants, but the reality is simple—when a player stinks, they get sent down. That’s how it works everywhere else in baseball. The only reason Volpe’s still here is because the front office (and Boone, the analytics department’s ventriloquist dummy) want to keep pretending their golden boy is about to “turn the corner.” Spoiler alert: he isn’t.

So, Boone can keep making googly eyes at Volpe, preaching patience and painting a picture of a player who doesn’t exist. But the fans? We’re done. We don’t care about mental toughness, emotional maturity, or OPS projections from four months ago. We just want a shortstop who can hit a baseball. Is that too much to ask when a guy’s making millions?

Apparently, in Boone’s world, it is. Meanwhile Jose Caballero is doing everything right. But Boone calls him utility.