How good could Jazz Chisholm be? It might be the most important question this spring.

Last year, at age 26, Jasarado Prince Hermis Arrington Chisholm Jr. - the loyal British subject - seemed to reach his physical and spiritual peaks. 

He hit the most HRs in his career (24), and achieved his highest BA (.256) in five seasons. He stole 40 bases, nearly double his previous best, and drove in 73 runs, 20 more than ever before. As a Yankee, he thrived, hitting .273 and improving his stolen bases success rate (18 SBs, only 2 CS.) 

Until his trade to the Yankees, "Jazz" had played his MLB career in Miami, a football-and-cocaine city that vaguely tolerates the Marlins, unless they mount a rare, once-per-decade run. At age two, growing up in the Bahamas, he'd announced his plans to play baseball. At 12, he was sent to a Jesus-is-everything prep school in Wichita. At 15, he moved to a sports academy in the Bahamas. He was training for MLB before most kids reach high school. 

In 2015, at age 16, he signed with the Diamondbacks for $200,000. Four years later, Arizona traded him to Miami. in 2020, he started at 2B in the All-Star game. Last summer, he went to the Yankees for three prospects. In his first three games, he hit four HRs, as if celebrating his mission in life.

A few weeks later, something wonderful happened. (Or maybe it was just p.r. bullshit; we must always consider that possibility.) The Yankees appeared in Williamsport, Pa., for the Little League World Series, and were treated like rock stars. Chisholm seemed to be the player most affected by the moment. 

He befriended a boy from Nevada and rode with him on the team bus. They talked all the way. He vowed to forever stay in touch. Interestingly, in Chisholm's telling of the story, he noted that several MLB players took him under their wings, early on, when he was scared and lost. One was CC Sabathia, the great Yankee. One was Dominick Smith, then of the Redsocks, now fighting for a roster spot with the Yankees. Jazz vowed to do the same for this boy.

Look, maybe it's crapola; these days, you never know. But I'm going with the heart-tugging story. I'm looking at Jazz Chisholm in the above picture, and I'm thinking he's found his reason to be alive, and somehow, it involves being a member of the New York fucking Yankees.

Considering his past - and the tedium of playing for the miserable Marlins - it's tempting to imagine Chisholm having his career peak in 2025. And here's the deal: The Yankees need him to be an all-star level 2B, a 30-HR slugger who, crazy at is sounds, might be tasked with protecting Aaron Judge.

Last year, in the world series, Chisholm nearly ran wild. He stole two bases in one inning in a game the Yankees should have won. The Dodgers couldn't stop him. Damn. I remember thinking he was going to be the MVP of the series. Then everything fell through, though not his fault. (Frankly, it hurts to relive.)  

Around here, we waste a lotta time pondering Anthony Volpe and Jasson Dominguez. Fuk dat. Yeah, they are critical to the future of this team. But Jazz Chisholm needs to have the best season of his career - because that kid in Nevada will be watching. And if Jazz comes through, praise Jesus, because a lot of our problems will disappear.