Goodbye, greatest strangler in MLB history
In the high-stakes world of Major League Baseball, where loyalties run as deep as the rivalries, few moments capture the raw emotion of the sport quite like a former star torching his old flame. Aroldis Chapman, the Cuban fireballer once hailed as the Yankees’ ultimate weapon in the ninth inning, has unleashed a verbal fastball that has the Bronx faithful seeing red. Speaking on the Swing Completo Podcast, a platform dedicated to Cuban players, the 37-year-old lefty didn’t mince words when asked about a potential return to New York. “No. Not even if I was dead,” he declared in Spanish, the clip quickly going viral on Instagram. “If you sent me to New York, I’d pack up my things and go home right now. I’ll retire on the spot if that happens. I’m not crazy. Never again.”
Chapman’s scorched-earth rejection comes at a poignant time, just weeks after the Yankees’ heartbreaking exit from the 2025 playoffs. New York fell to the Toronto Blue Jays in the American League Division Series, four games to one, extending their World Series drought to 17 years. For a franchise built on pinstriped glory, the loss stung like a late-inning blown save—and who better to remind them of such agony than Chapman, the man fans once nicknamed the “greatest strangler” for his ability to choke away big moments? The moniker, born from infamous meltdowns like the 2019 ALCS Game 6 walk-off homer he surrendered to Jose Altuve, has haunted him ever since. Now, it’s being hurled back with venomous glee.
The backlash from Yankees Nation was swift and merciless, erupting across social media platforms like a Fenway fireworks show—fitting, perhaps, given Chapman’s current home with the Boston Red Sox. On X, formerly Twitter, fans dissected the interview with the precision of a scouting report. “Good riddance, biggest choke artist in MLB history,” one supporter posted, evoking that eternal image of Chapman’s sheepish grin after Altuve’s dagger sent Houston to the Fall Classic. “Still see that stupid smile on his face when he let up the walk-off to Altuve. How many Yankee seasons ended with Chapman on the bump? A lot lol. Guy’s a complete disaster.” Another quipped, “Sources say the Yankees would also rather retire than have Aroldis Chapman return,” drawing laughs amid the derision. Smugness seeped through in memes juxtaposing Chapman’s velocity with his postseason ERA, while bitter posts lamented the “disrespect” he claims to have endured—ironic, given the vitriol he’s now tasting.
Chapman’s grievances paint a picture of a fractured relationship that simmered for years. He arrived in the Bronx in 2016 via a midseason trade from the Cincinnati Reds, bringing his triple-digit heat and a resume marred by a 2015 domestic violence incident that had already cast a shadow over his career. Over parts of seven seasons—interrupted briefly by a 2022 departure to the Kansas City Royals—he tallied 153 saves and a respectable 2.95 ERA, striking out 453 in 294.1 innings. Three All-Star nods and key contributions to the 2017 and 2018 playoff pushes cemented his status as a pinstriped pillar. Yet, cracks formed. In 2022, he lost the closer’s role to Clay Holmes and skipped a team workout before the ALDS, landing him off the postseason roster. “I dealt with a lot of disrespect with the Yankees,” Chapman elaborated on the podcast. “I put up with a lot of things. I knew they just wanted to find a way to get rid of me, but they didn’t know how.” He was quick to exempt teammates and manager Aaron Boone from blame, pointing the finger squarely at the front office.
Since fleeing the Yankees, Chapman’s nomadic journey has been a tale of redemption and resurgence. A World Series ring with the Texas Rangers in 2023 washed away some sins, followed by stints in Pittsburgh and, crucially, Boston. Signed by the Red Sox in 2024, he transformed into a lockdown closer, posting a blistering 1.17 ERA over 61.1 innings in 2025 with 32 saves, 85 strikeouts, and a 0.701 WHIP that made him the envy of every bullpen in baseball. That dominance earned him a contract extension in late August: $13.3 million guaranteed for 2026, with a vesting option for 2027. In Beantown, where hatred for the Yankees pulses like a heartbeat, Chapman’s rebirth feels poetic. He dominated New York in the 2025 Wild Card round, surrendering zero runs across multiple outings at Yankee Stadium, as one X user gleefully noted: “Very unfortunate for the Yankees because Aroldis Chapman said ‘fuck you’ and did not give up a single run.”
The feud underscores a broader tension in the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry, now amplified by Chapman’s defection. Boston fans, ever eager to twist the knife, flooded replies with schadenfreude: “Welcome home, Aroldis—where winners play.” Some Yankees supporters, in a rare moment of introspection, even turned the mirror inward. “Yankees fans all over this app today are yapping at Aroldis Chapman over his comments without realizing that it’s their fault players like him and Juan Soto didn’t want to come back,” one observer tweeted, alluding to the free-agent star’s similar snub of New York last winter. Soto’s departure to San Diego after the 2024 season left a gaping hole, and Chapman’s words echo that sting—talent fleeing a franchise perceived as toxic at the top.
Yet, for all the barbs, Chapman’s legacy defies easy dismissal. At 37, with 367 career saves, he’s MLB’s active leader in that category, a testament to the raw power that once made him untouchable. His fastball still touches 102 mph, and his slider remains a nightmare for right-handers. The “strangler” label, while cutting, ignores the context: high-leverage pressure in the Bronx amplifies every failure. As one contrarian fan posted amid the pile-on, “I know his past is complicated… but fuck can he pitch.” In an era of analytics and arm fatigue, Chapman’s enduring fire—on and off the mound—reminds us why baseball’s personal dramas captivate.
As the offseason looms, Chapman’s declaration closes a chapter with finality. The Yankees, licking wounds from their playoff flameout, will pivot elsewhere for bullpen help, perhaps eyeing younger arms unscarred by Bronx baggage. For Chapman, it’s full steam ahead in Boston, where the ghosts of New York fade like a receding radar gun reading. In the end, his parting shot isn’t just goodbye—it’s a grenade lobbed into the heart of pinstriped pride. And as fans trade barbs in the digital coliseum, one truth lingers: in baseball, grudges are the real immortals, outlasting even the greatest heaters.
