At Least The Blue Jays Showed Up. The Yankees Wish They Were Them

What I just witnessed might’ve been the greatest World Series I’ve ever seen. I mean it. As a baseball fan, that was art. Seven games of passion, grit, and pure love for the sport. But as a Yankees fan? It just reminded me how far our once-great Yankees franchise has fallen.

Sure, I’ll always hold 1996 and 1998 close to my heart — those were my glory years of World Series wins. But this year’s World Series? It showed me what baseball should look like. Players fighting for every pitch. Managers leading with guts, not Google Sheets. Fans losing their voices because the team gave them something to believe in.

And the Toronto Blue Jays — yeah, I said it — deserve every ounce of credit.

The Jays didn’t make the World Series because they were lucky or flashy. They made it because they play as a team. They love their manager, John Schneider. The guy’s got guts. His players respect him. They run through walls for him. He’s a leader, not a lab technician. He manages with feel — not algorithms. He trusts his eyes, his instincts, and his players. You can’t teach that — and you sure as hell can’t find it on a spreadsheet.

They play small ball, they hit for contact, they grind out at-bats, and when the big moments come, they deliver. They lost the Series, sure, but they looked alive doing it. They looked united. They looked like the 1998 Yankees — remember those guys? The ones who played hard for their manager and actually cared about winning every single inning?

Meanwhile, in the Bronx…

We’ve got Aaron Boone clapping like a cheerleader in the dugout while his team strikes out seventeen times a night. The guy manages with all the urgency of someone picking out curtains. He’s a yes-man for a front office that’s allergic to accountability. Boone doesn’t manage — he reads off scripts. And when those scripts fail, he blames the “process.” 

The process? What process?! The process of watching the same lifeless at-bats, the same sloppy defense, the same lifeless dugout game after game? Give me a break. FIRE THIS LOSER.

And then there’s Brian Cashman — baseball’s version of the guy who keeps buying lottery tickets and swearing he’s “due.” He’s been selling the same analytic nonsense for years, signing past-their-prime stars, ignoring fundamentals, and pretending like he’s the smartest guy in the room. Spoiler: he’s not.

And don’t even get me started on Hal Steinbrenner. He’s silent and missing. The man inherited the greatest sports empire on earth and turned it into a country club with a merchandise line. You think his father would’ve tolerated this? Please. George would’ve fired half the team, Boone included, before the champagne stopped popping in Toronto.

These Yankees aren’t my Yankees. They’re not your Yankees either. They’re corporate robots in pinstripes. They don’t hustle. They don’t play small ball. They don’t even look like they care. They rely on Aaron Judge to carry the team, and when he can’t, they shrug and call it bad luck. 

It’s pathetic.

Meanwhile, the Blue Jays — yes, the team that just lost — looked like they belonged. They hit for contact, ranked first in batting average, and struck out less than anyone in the American League. The Yankees? They’re leading the league in strikeouts and excuses.

Toronto hits in clutch spots. The Yankees? They leave the bases loaded and stare blankly into space. The Blue Jays have Gold Glove defense. The Yankees? They play hot potato in the infield and hope no one notices.

It’s not rocket science — it’s baseball. But the Yankees’ front office treats it like a math equation no one can solve.

Let’s stop pretending this is bad luck or “a tough stretch.” This is bad management. It’s bad philosophy. It’s the arrogance of a front office that thinks the fans will just keep showing up no matter how lousy the product gets.

And you know what? They’re right — because we let them.

That’s why I’m saying it again: boycott the Yankees.

Stop buying tickets. Stop wearing their overpriced merch. Stop feeding this corporate beast that has no interest in winning — only in profiting. Because as long as Hal Steinbrenner’s bank account stays full, nothing changes. Cashman keeps his job. Boone keeps clapping. The analytics team keeps calculating launch angles while the rest of baseball laughs.

You want change? Hit them where it hurts — in the wallet.

Until then, enjoy watching other teams — like the Blue Jays — show what a real baseball team looks like. They play the game the right way: with heart, hustle, and leadership. The Yankees used to do that. They used to be that.

Now they’re just a spreadsheet in pinstripes.