Jazz Chisholm redefining Bronx—And Yankees don’t mind sinking their ‘reputation’

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The New York Yankees have long been a franchise synonymous with tradition, even if that stifles a player’s individualism. Clean-shaven players, buttoned-up professionalism, and a “play the game the right way” ethos often felt more like an unspoken law than a suggestion. But if there’s one player testing the outer boundaries of that legacy—and doing it with unapologetic flair—it’s Jazz Chisholm Jr.

“The Yankees organization has a well-earned reputation for stifling individuality,” wrote Chris Kirschner of The Athletic, “But Boone felt it was important to let Chisholm know that he would be accepting him for who he was and that he shouldn’t feel pressured to stop being himself. This was the message relayed on the day of the trade in their very first phone call.”

When the Yankees acquired Chisholm at the 2024 trade deadline, it wasn’t just about adding an athletic, versatile second baseman. It was a cultural move—a shift in tone. And it began with a phone call from manager Aaron Boone, one that Chisholm still remembers clearly.

“Boone told me, ‘Don’t change. Be you. We want you here,’” Chisholm said in a wide-ranging interview.

It was the first time in his professional career that a team not only tolerated his personality but embraced it.

Chisholm fought veterans in clubhouse

Chisholm’s road to the Bronx was anything but smooth. Drafted by the Arizona Diamondbacks and later traded to the Miami Marlins, he quickly became known for more than just his talent. His brightly colored hair, custom cleats, anime-inspired jewelry, and energetic celebrations made waves. But not everyone was a fan.

In Miami, his friction with veterans was real. According to Chisholm, teammates vandalized his belongings during his rookie year—cutting up his cleats and pouring milk into his shoes.

“That was pure jealousy,” Chisholm said. “If I were White, they wouldn’t have done that. A White kid complains, people panic. I complain, it’s like, ‘Relax. Let’s find a solution.’”

While some within the Marlins clubhouse denied racial bias and chalked the incidents up to old-school hazing, former manager Don Mattingly saw the damage clearly enough to call a 90-minute team meeting to address the tension.

“Jazz needs to feel free to play his best,” Mattingly said, now a bench coach for the Toronto Blue Jays. “His biggest thing is: he’s gotta be himself.”

The unlikeliest of fits in the Bronx

So, how did Chisholm, a self-described artist with a rapper’s swagger and a fashion designer’s taste, land in pinstripes?

It’s not as unlikely as it seems.

While the Yankees have a historic reputation for conservative clubhouse culture—no beards, no excessive flair—that image has started to shift under Boone and GM Brian Cashman. For the first time in nearly 50 years, the Yankees will allow facial hair in 2025. More importantly, they’re prioritizing personality alongside performance.

“I had a lot of comfort knowing Jazz was a quality human being with a big heart,” Cashman told The Athletic. “All of our feedback confirmed that.”

Boone, who has two adopted Haitian sons, said understanding a player’s background is as essential as understanding his batting stance.

“You have to dig deeper than the surface,” Boone said. “You can’t just rely on reputation. You have to try your best to see where someone’s coming from—even if you haven’t walked in their shoes.”

Letting Jazz be Jazz

And the Yankees have done just that.

Chisholm rocks diamond-studded chains featuring characters from Black Clover. He pimps home runs—yes, even wall-scrapers—and finishes the show with his signature Euro step across the plate. When he homered against Texas in August, he pointed at Boone and mimicked the manager’s own dugout dance. Boone erupted in laughter.

“That’s why I appreciate him so much,” Chisholm said.

He no longer isolates himself in the clubhouse nap room like he did in Miami. He goes out with teammates. He talks anime and golf (he claims to drive the ball 350 yards despite being new to the sport). He gets up at 5 a.m. to chill with his cat, Oliver, before reporting to the field. It’s a vibe. And it’s working.

“Last year, I actually hung out with the whole team,” Chisholm said. “It used to be just me in my room watching anime. Now, I mess with these guys.”

Even Yankees ace Gerrit Cole, perhaps the most serious man in baseball, has been won over.

“Gerrit Cole is 1,000 percent invited to the barbecue,” Chisholm joked.

And it’s not just talk. With Cole injured to start the 2025 season, the Yankees will need leaders like Chisholm to step up—not just on the field, but in the clubhouse. He’s already embraced that role.

He’s not just hitting baseballs; he’s making the game fun again.

From the Bahamas to the Bronx: Yankees’ misfit turns mainstay

Raised in Nassau by his grandmother—an elite softball player herself—Chisholm was hitting baseballs by age 2. By 12, he was in Kansas, attending boarding school and playing three sports as one of the only Black kids in his neighborhood.

“I never felt unaccepted growing up,” Chisholm said. “That’s why what happened in pro baseball hit me so hard.”

Still, he never stopped being himself. His cleats featured Oreo cookies, Vice City, and anime. He painted. He rapped. He designed clothes. And when he wasn’t allowed to be that person, he felt the game slipping away.

Why It works in New York

So why is it working now?

Because Boone and the Yankees finally understood what Mattingly and others had long tried to explain: Chisholm doesn’t just want to be himself. He has to be.

“The unwritten rules of baseball are White,” Chisholm said. “And I always broke them.”

But now, in a clubhouse with Judge, Soto, Volpe, and Rizzo—not to mention Boone’s backing—he’s not breaking rules. He’s breaking out.

World Series or bust?

With multiple key injuries heading into Opening Day, the Yankees need players like Chisholm to carry the weight. If his talent and confidence collide the way they’re starting to, he could have a career year.

He’s under team control through 2026. There’s plenty of time to leave a mark—and make the Bronx his home.

And if you’re still questioning whether Chisholm fits the Yankees’ mold, maybe the mold is what needed changing in the first place.

“Everyone knew Michael Jordan to be an a–hole,” Chisholm said. “But did that stop him from getting his money? I know a lot of a–holes who got paid. And I’m not even an a–hole.”

Let Jazz be Jazz. And the Yankees might just dance their way back to October glory.

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