By now, I hope you’ve watched/listened/received the fantastic Pivot Podcast episode featuring Marlins all-stars and 2023 MLB the Show cover player Jazz Chisholm Jr.
If you have not, let me tell you, it’s a lot—I mean a whole lot. I hesitate to say it was too much because I felt that much of what Jazz said during the interview needed to be said, if not for us, then for him.
BUT Family, the entire episode was on Mike Tyson’s Punch Out 10 — from start to finish.
It’s like when you reconnect with a close cousin you grew up with, and the two of you have been separated for a few years. There is so much to say and receive, and you decide to do it all in one night— well, in one hour and twenty-two minutes, to be exact.
Prince Jazz talked about his highs—he spoke of his lows—he spilled the tea (and there is a lot of tea)—he addressed the haters (and, boy, there were a lot of haters)—there are a lot of feelings going around on the episode. I instantly got caught up in my emotions watching it on YouTube. There was also a sense of relief, liberation, joy, and, in a way, true freedom for Jazz throughout the podcast.
The aftermath of the conversation left me with a familiar sensitivity that I could not place. I sat for an hour — maybe two, reflecting on Jazz’s words and trying to put my finger on this feeling I knew I had felt before. Then, like a Yamamoto fastball to Tatis, it hit me. KANYE WEST! I felt the same emotions I had after watching a Kanye interview. But what version of Ye? The old Kanye: the supremely confident, borderline arrogant, highly insecure producer turned rapper trying to fit in with the Roc Dynasty Kanye? That version of Kanye was fueled by his desire to prove himself as one of the greats. That Kanye made College Dropout, Late Registration, and Graduation in four years. That Kanye stood before a national audience and said, “George Bush doesn’t care about Black people.” That Kanye is the reason why a lot of people are still conflicted about this new Ye.
Or is Jazz Chisholm Jr. the new Ye? The Ye that has spiraled into a walking contradiction of his old self. The Ye that is a pseudo-delusional trainwreck who does interviews with Tucker Carlson wearing a mask — pals around with Candace Owens wearing white Lives Matter t-shirts— lost his wife, married a new wife (who somehow looks like the old wife), and ran for President. This Ye’s truths goes beyond facts and lands in a category far past narcissism. Essentially, This Ye is the guy who never finds fault with himself but finds fault in everyone and everything else.
So, is Jazz the old Kanye or the new Ye? Honestly, I think he is much closer to the old Kanye, but with a significant caveat: Jazz has not dropped a My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy on the field yet. He has not delivered a 808s and Heartbreaks. Has he even delivered a Life of Pablo? Jazz’s all-star season was in 2022. That season, he became the first Bahamian-born player to make the All-Star Game roster. But even in that campaign, he only suited up in 60 games and batted 254. What album would you call that? Yeezus?
During the Pivot podcast, Jazz discussed the abuse he received from the Marlins’ veteran players in great detail. And I don’t use the term abuse lightly. What Jazz described went beyond the veteran team hazing and entered a territory just below the criminals. Under the circumstances Jazz describes, he was forced to turn inward for self-preservation. I don’t blame him at all for that. I would have put my headphones on and slept a lot, too. It’s a miracle he was able to play at all, going through what I would describe as a level of depression.
But it does beg the question: Who was in charge of the environment? What measure of quality control was in place? It sounds like none. And while Jazz praised then Marlins President Derek Jeter as his mentor, anyone reading between the lines has to ask: Was the legendary #2 at fault for the culture? Was Don Mattingly? I think the culture problem was more extensive than Jeter because of what happened after Jeter left (Kim Ng’s departure is one example). Jazz described a horrible culture that only started to improve with hiring current manager Skip Schumaker and acquiring players like Luis Arráez, Josh Bell, and now Nick Gordon and Tim Anderson. Jazz said this is the happiest he has been playing baseball in three years — maybe the happiest and most comfortable he’s ever been in the pros. The sensitive soul has found his Roc-a-fella. Now, can he make hits?
Jazz was an all-star at second base but suffered an injury that 2022 season. Last season, he moved to center field. He batted 250/304/457 in 97 games — hitting 19 HRs and 51 RBIs. I’m not sure those numbers capture Jazz’s impact on the game or his influence on the culture. Young kids all over the county emulate his Euro Step, see his chains, and copy his style — on and off the field. At 25, Jazz is a young player but an old head to this new wave of players, very much like Kanye West, right?
With all of the recent information Jazz has given us through the Pivot podcast, one question remains: How many of Jazz’s problems were caused by Jazz? I can’t ignore or excuse his immaturity because he doesn’t. On the podcast, he admits that he was immature. He acknowledged that he willingly butted heads with OGs. He wishes the Jeter he had those years in MIA could work with the Jazz of today. He thinks the outcome would be different. And I believe him. But I also believed Ye when he said he didn’t mean to offend people. At least I did the first few times, only for him to turn around and do it again, and again, and again.
This season could very well be the line of demarcation—the point of no return for Jazz. The album that defines his legacy. I wonder what Kanye album is that?
