Keith Mcpherson Should Shut His Pie Hole About Carlos Rodon

Athletes are finely tuned machines. We’re talking about high-performance Ferraris, not beat-up go-karts with duct-taped bumpers. Their bodies are built, tested, and pushed to the limit, and to perform at the elite level, they have to be on—mentally, physically, emotionally—every damn day. So when a guy like Carlos Rodón, who is built like a bull and pitches like a warrior, says the 100-degree heat cooked him in Cincinnati last week, I believe him.

Let’s start here: Carlos Rodón has been an absolute stud lately. Is he perfect? No. But he’s trending in the right direction. It took a minute, sure—putting on the Yankee pinstripes comes with a different kind of pressure, and some guys need time to settle in. Rodón clearly has. And honestly? I’ve been rooting for him since the moment he stepped into the Bronx. That kind of work ethic, that kind of grit? Respect.

Last week he just spun six scoreless innings against the Reds, for crying out loud. The guy was dealing. But it was overwhelmingly humid-hot. A smoldering 100 degrees in Great American Ball Park, and Rodón had reached his boiling point after 88 pitches. He admitted it: “I was huffing and puffing a little bit… I could tell I was gassed.”   It reminds me of the line from Dude, Where’s my Car?… “I know my body, dude.”

Fair enough, right? WRONG—if you’re Keith McPherson.

This clown hopped on the airwaves and unloaded the most idiotic take of the week: “You need to be in better shape, buddy. You need to be better conditioned. You make $27 million to be a starting pitcher for the New York Yankees.”

Oh really, Keith? That’s your expert analysis? That’s your high-powered radio insight? What a load of garbage. I get the whole “provocative hot take” schtick. But this wasn’t bold, or honest, or even remotely fair. It was just… fucking stupid.

Here’s what Keith doesn’t get—and probably never will: athletes aren’t superheroes. 

They’re not bulletproof. And they sure as hell aren’t robots with rechargeable batteries and A/C units in their backs. Sometimes it’s 100 degrees. Sometimes you’re not 100%. Sometimes your body says nope even when your brain is screaming let’s go. That’s just part of the gig.

You don’t know what you’re getting from any pitcher on any given night. Some days it’s dominance. Other days it’s a grind. You think an MLB contract makes you immune to exhaustion or dehydration? Come on. Baseball is chaos in cleats, and if you’re gonna run your mouth behind a mic, at least try not to sound like a clueless troll.

I’ve never been a fan of Keith McPherson—he’s an echo chamber of nonsense, constantly talking but rarely saying anything. Rodón, meanwhile, has proven he belongs. He’s one of the best arms in the Yankees’ rotation, and he’s earned every bit of the credit he’s getting right now.

So Keith? Sit down. Shut up. And leave the analysis to people who know what the hell they’re talking about.