The Ghost of Atlanta Haunts the Bronx: Max Fried's Enigma Continues
Published on: August 17, 2025
The scoreboard at Yankee Stadium flashed a reassuring 12-8 victory for the home team, the Bronx Bombers adding another win to their recent, if slightly stuttering, surge. Yet, the celebratory fireworks felt strangely muted, a nervous hum replacing the usual roar of the crowd. The reason? Max Fried, the supposed ace in the hole, the lefty linchpin of a rotation decimated by injury, once again looked less like a Cy Young contender and more like a pitcher desperately searching for his fastball – and his confidence.
Against the St. Louis Cardinals, a team fighting its own battles in a disappointing season, Fried delivered another performance that left Yankees faithful chewing their fingernails down to the nub. Five-plus innings, seven earned runs, eight hits – including a pair of dingers surrendered to Masyn Winn and Nolan Gorman – painted a grim picture. Gorman's two-run blast, a laser beam into the right field seats, served as the final, merciful blow, finally knocking Fried out of the game and sending him trudging back to the dugout with the weight of the world – or at least the Bronx – on his shoulders.
The Yankees, bless their pinstriped hearts, had spotted Fried a lead before he even took the mound. Aaron Judge, continuing his MVP-caliber campaign, roped a double in the first, sending Trent Grisham scampering home before Cardinals starter Sonny Gray could even find his rhythm. It was the kind of early offensive spark that should have settled a pitcher, a chance to breathe deep and attack the zone.
Instead, Fried seemed to implode. The first two innings were a disaster, a five-run hemorrhage that included Winn’s two-run shot, a blast that sucked the air out of the stadium and seemingly out of Fried himself. This wasn't a blip, a bad inning in an otherwise solid outing. This was a continuation of a disturbing trend that has stretched for weeks, a slow-motion train wreck that has seen Fried’s first-half brilliance fade into a hazy memory. The pitcher who looked destined for All-Star glory, a potential homecoming king in Atlanta, now carries the heavy baggage of a 6.80 ERA and 4.60 FIP over his last eight starts since the calendar flipped to July.
“Just haven’t been sharp,” a dejected Fried admitted post-game, his words echoing the sentiments of a fanbase clinging to dwindling playoff hopes. “Haven’t had the good results. When you got to go out there and have good outings, I haven’t been able to do that.”
The stark honesty was refreshing, but also deeply concerning. With Gerrit Cole and Clarke Schmidt convalescing on the IL after undergoing Tommy John surgery, Fried is no longer a luxury; he's a necessity. The Yankees, clinging to a slender 2.5-game lead over the Cleveland Guardians for the final AL Wild Card spot, desperately need the vintage Fried, the ace who dominated hitters with a mix of pinpoint control and devastating off-speed stuff. Instead, they’ve gotten a pitcher who looks lost, his mechanics seemingly out of sync, his confidence eroded with each passing start.
And yet, on this sweltering summer night in the Bronx, the Yankees’ bats bailed him out. Judge, ever the stoic leader, launched his 39th home run of the season, a towering shot that reminded everyone why he’s the heart and soul of this team. Grisham, a spark plug at the top of the order, collected four hits and scored four runs. And then there was Ben Rice, the rookie sensation, exploding onto the scene with seven RBIs, including a three-run bomb that punctuated the Yankees' offensive outburst.
"I’m working hard in between to try to make the best adjustments I can," Fried insisted, clinging to a sliver of optimism. "They haven’t really been showing, but we’re here to win games. Really fortunate today that they put up 12 runs to be able to cover me. But I know going forward, I got to be way better.”
The question, of course, is how? FOX commentator Adam Wainwright, a seasoned veteran who knows a thing or two about pitching, pointed to the oppressive humidity as a potential factor, speculating that the sticky conditions might have affected Fried’s grip.
Yankees manager Aaron Boone, however, dismissed the weather excuse, attributing Fried's struggles to a simple slump, the kind that even the best pitchers endure. “Even the elite-level pitchers go through things like this at times," Boone stated, his tone a mix of reassurance and perhaps a touch of wishful thinking. "He’ll get there. He’ll get through it. There’s nothing wrong with him. Physically he’s in a good spot, stuff’s there.”
Boone's confidence is admirable, his faith in Fried unwavering. "It’s just another level of execution," he continued. "You’re kind of going through it a little bit, so you’re mentally fighting yourself. There’s no alarming, ‘Oh his stuff’s down,’ or, ‘What’s wrong with this?’ He’s too good to not get through it.”
But the clock is ticking. The playoffs loom, and the Yankees need their ace back, the Max Fried who dominated lineups, not the ghost of Atlanta that currently haunts the Bronx. The question remains: can Fried exorcise his demons and rediscover his form before it's too late? The fate of the Yankees' season may very well depend on it.
Against the St. Louis Cardinals, a team fighting its own battles in a disappointing season, Fried delivered another performance that left Yankees faithful chewing their fingernails down to the nub. Five-plus innings, seven earned runs, eight hits – including a pair of dingers surrendered to Masyn Winn and Nolan Gorman – painted a grim picture. Gorman's two-run blast, a laser beam into the right field seats, served as the final, merciful blow, finally knocking Fried out of the game and sending him trudging back to the dugout with the weight of the world – or at least the Bronx – on his shoulders.
The Yankees, bless their pinstriped hearts, had spotted Fried a lead before he even took the mound. Aaron Judge, continuing his MVP-caliber campaign, roped a double in the first, sending Trent Grisham scampering home before Cardinals starter Sonny Gray could even find his rhythm. It was the kind of early offensive spark that should have settled a pitcher, a chance to breathe deep and attack the zone.
Instead, Fried seemed to implode. The first two innings were a disaster, a five-run hemorrhage that included Winn’s two-run shot, a blast that sucked the air out of the stadium and seemingly out of Fried himself. This wasn't a blip, a bad inning in an otherwise solid outing. This was a continuation of a disturbing trend that has stretched for weeks, a slow-motion train wreck that has seen Fried’s first-half brilliance fade into a hazy memory. The pitcher who looked destined for All-Star glory, a potential homecoming king in Atlanta, now carries the heavy baggage of a 6.80 ERA and 4.60 FIP over his last eight starts since the calendar flipped to July.
“Just haven’t been sharp,” a dejected Fried admitted post-game, his words echoing the sentiments of a fanbase clinging to dwindling playoff hopes. “Haven’t had the good results. When you got to go out there and have good outings, I haven’t been able to do that.”
The stark honesty was refreshing, but also deeply concerning. With Gerrit Cole and Clarke Schmidt convalescing on the IL after undergoing Tommy John surgery, Fried is no longer a luxury; he's a necessity. The Yankees, clinging to a slender 2.5-game lead over the Cleveland Guardians for the final AL Wild Card spot, desperately need the vintage Fried, the ace who dominated hitters with a mix of pinpoint control and devastating off-speed stuff. Instead, they’ve gotten a pitcher who looks lost, his mechanics seemingly out of sync, his confidence eroded with each passing start.
And yet, on this sweltering summer night in the Bronx, the Yankees’ bats bailed him out. Judge, ever the stoic leader, launched his 39th home run of the season, a towering shot that reminded everyone why he’s the heart and soul of this team. Grisham, a spark plug at the top of the order, collected four hits and scored four runs. And then there was Ben Rice, the rookie sensation, exploding onto the scene with seven RBIs, including a three-run bomb that punctuated the Yankees' offensive outburst.
"I’m working hard in between to try to make the best adjustments I can," Fried insisted, clinging to a sliver of optimism. "They haven’t really been showing, but we’re here to win games. Really fortunate today that they put up 12 runs to be able to cover me. But I know going forward, I got to be way better.”
The question, of course, is how? FOX commentator Adam Wainwright, a seasoned veteran who knows a thing or two about pitching, pointed to the oppressive humidity as a potential factor, speculating that the sticky conditions might have affected Fried’s grip.
Yankees manager Aaron Boone, however, dismissed the weather excuse, attributing Fried's struggles to a simple slump, the kind that even the best pitchers endure. “Even the elite-level pitchers go through things like this at times," Boone stated, his tone a mix of reassurance and perhaps a touch of wishful thinking. "He’ll get there. He’ll get through it. There’s nothing wrong with him. Physically he’s in a good spot, stuff’s there.”
Boone's confidence is admirable, his faith in Fried unwavering. "It’s just another level of execution," he continued. "You’re kind of going through it a little bit, so you’re mentally fighting yourself. There’s no alarming, ‘Oh his stuff’s down,’ or, ‘What’s wrong with this?’ He’s too good to not get through it.”
But the clock is ticking. The playoffs loom, and the Yankees need their ace back, the Max Fried who dominated lineups, not the ghost of Atlanta that currently haunts the Bronx. The question remains: can Fried exorcise his demons and rediscover his form before it's too late? The fate of the Yankees' season may very well depend on it.
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