The 2025 Subway Series kicked off with explosive energy at Yankee Stadium, fueled largely by Juan Soto’s dramatic return—not as a Yankee, but in Mets gray. Twenty minutes before first pitch, a loud, vulgar chant—”F— Juan Soto!”—erupted from the right-field bleachers, setting the tone for a night of resentment.
Soto, who helped power the Yankees to a World Series appearance in 2024, had left for their cross-town rivals, the Mets, in the offseason. Though he didn’t react overtly, Soto’s subtle cap tip hinted at acknowledgment of the hostile welcome.
The series already carried significant weight: a matchup between two first-place teams just 10 miles apart. But Soto’s departure from the Yankees and jump to the Mets added a deep emotional layer, making this perhaps the most anticipated meeting since the 2000 World Series. What might have been typical fanfare turned into something more personal and bitter, especially for fans who had hoped Soto would re-sign.
Soto’s Exit Ignites Outrage As Fans Express Betrayal With Chants And Props
Veteran fan Marc Chalpin, who leads the Bleacher Creatures’ iconic Roll Call, admitted he wasn’t a fan of the vulgar chants but knew they were inevitable. Soto, after all, had only played one season in the Bronx and hadn’t won a championship—hardly enough to be considered a Yankee legend. Still, the reaction was intense, especially among non-regulars, many of whom were eager to voice their anger in creative and not-so-creative ways.

During the 2024 season, fans had begged the Yankees to re-sign Soto. But once he accepted a slightly more lucrative deal from Mets owner Steve Cohen—including luxury perks and family security—the admiration quickly turned to disdain. His choice to join the Mets, despite a competitive Yankees offer, flipped the script. For once, Yankees fans felt the sting of being outbid, a reversal of the usual narrative where they are the ones poaching stars.
Yankees fans didn’t stop at chants. Some brought visual props, like James Roina, who altered his Soto Yankees jersey to read “SELLOUT” using tape and marker. The bleachers became a lively, if hostile, battleground with occasional scuffles defused by security. Mets fans wearing Soto’s new colors were few but bold, contributing to the tense but largely nonviolent atmosphere.
Some Fans Understood Soto’s Move, Others Made Sure He Felt Their Fury
Even as fans booed and chanted, some recognized the business side of Soto’s decision. Lifelong Bleacher Creature Joe Lopez noted that Soto’s move made financial sense, contrasting it with Aaron Judge’s loyalty. For Chalpin, Soto didn’t deserve respect but didn’t deserve hatred either. He proposed a symbolic protest instead—turning their backs on Soto when he took the field, a gesture Soto later claimed he didn’t notice.
Soto handled the pressure with poise, smiling and tipping his helmet before his first at-bat. Though he mostly ignored the jeers, he briefly responded to a chant with a heart gesture and tossed a ball into the bleachers, which was promptly thrown back. Fans believed they’d finally gotten under his skin, proving that their relentless energy had pierced his calm exterior—at least momentarily.
Late in the game, a surprising moment of unity emerged as both Mets and Yankees fans celebrated the Knicks’ dominant win over the Celtics, shown on the stadium video board. But the camaraderie was short-lived. Soon, taunts resumed and the rivalry reignited. Soto ended the night hitless with three walks in a 6-2 Yankees win, but the emotional weight of his return defined the night more than the scoreboard ever could.