Baseball Rigged? Shocking New Evidence MLB Writers Handed MVP to Aaron Judge Before Season Even Started

In a stunning revelation that absolutely no one with a functioning brain stem should find surprising, new “evidence” (also known as common sense and basic pattern recognition) confirms that MLB writers handed Aaron Judge the MVP months before the season even began — probably sometime around January, between their third Dunkin’ trip and their daily ritual of ignoring West Coast baseball entirely.

And who paid the price for this premeditated, baseball-voting atrocity? None other than the rightful, mathematically inevitable, universally beloved MVP: Cal “Ballistic Missile” Raleigh, the catcher who carried an entire franchise, several ZIP codes, and four tectonic plates on his back this season.

But sure. Give it to Judge. Again.

MLB writers — a group best described as “sports bloggers who time-traveled from 1973 and brought their biases with them” — apparently looked at the league, saw Cal Raleigh launching baseballs into low orbit, calling games with chess-grandmaster-level telepathy, and dragging the Mariners into relevance with the raw power of his thighs, and said, “Hmm yes, but Aaron Judge plays for the Yankees though.”

Did they analyze stats? Did they consider value? Did they even pretend to watch a Mariners game? Of course not. MLB writers haven’t stayed awake past the third inning of a West Coast game since the Bush administration. Their circadian rhythms don’t allow it.

So instead of giving the MVP to a catcher hitting nukes so violent NORAD had to update its missile-defense protocols, they gave it to Judge — a man who, according to sources, won the award because writers “already had his name pre-filled on the ballot” and “didn’t want to reach for the delete key.”

This wasn’t voting. This was muscle memory.

Let’s be clear: Cal Raleigh didn’t just play baseball this year. He dominated reality. Every pitch he caught gained 2 mph simply out of respect. Every pitcher who threw to him saw their ERA drop by a run purely because they didn’t want to disappoint him. Every home run he hit triggered a mild earthquake, but the Pacific Northwest just calls that “Tuesday.”

But none of that mattered. Because the writers saw “Yankees” on the ballot and blacked out like they’d just viewed the Ark of the Covenant.

The MVP race wasn’t rigged. It was pre-rigged. It came rigged from the factory. Cal Raleigh walked in with Excalibur; Judge walked in with a pinstriped participation trophy; the writers handed him the crown before Raleigh even finished stretching.

Still, real baseball fans know the truth. Not the writers. Not the coastal elite baseball illuminati. The fans. They know who the real MVP is. The man who swings a bat like he’s trying to punish baseballs for past crimes. The man who catches pitches like he’s intercepting enemy fire. The man whose presence alone raises Seattle’s GDP.

Cal. Freaking. Raleigh.

Judge can have the trophy.

Raleigh owns the legend.

And also, again, several baseballs still orbiting the planet.