The Roman Anthony Hype Has Been Rife for Months, but It Reached a Whole New Level When a Red Sox Legend Stepped in with a Message That Stopped Fans in Their Tracks: “He’s Going to Be Tough.” Such Praise Doesn’t Come Easily in Boston, Especially from Someone Who Knows What It Takes to Thrive in the Fenway Spotlight. Anthony’s Approach, Discipline, and Early Flashes of Power Have Raised Expectations, and the Endorsement Only Reinforced the Belief That the Red Sox Could Be Watching the Rise of Their Next Baserunner. It Was a Perspective-Shifting Moment—No Longer Just Potential, but a Real Glimpse of What He Could Become. Now, the Anticipation Only Grows.
In the unforgiving world of Boston sports, where legends are forged in the crucible of Fenway Park’s Green Monster and the relentless scrutiny of a fanbase that demands excellence, few prospects arrive with the weight of expectation that Roman Anthony has carried since his draft day in 2022. Selected 79th overall out of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, the lanky outfielder signed for a $2.5 million bonus that hinted at the raw talent scouts had whispered about for years. But whispers turn to roars quickly in Beantown, and by 2025, Anthony’s ascent had transformed from a murmur into a full-throated chorus, culminating in a season that saw him not just debut, but dazzle, before an untimely injury reminded everyone of baseball’s cruel unpredictability.
The hype machine kicked into overdrive during spring training, where Anthony earned an invitation to the Red Sox’s big-league camp. At just 20 years old, he held his own against veterans, flashing the kind of plate discipline that belied his youth—a .423 on-base percentage in Triple-A Worcester that spoke to an uncanny ability to work counts and punish mistakes. Fans packed Polar Park in Worcester, the Red Sox’s Triple-A outpost, to catch glimpses of the kid who had already been tabbed as the organization’s minor league hitter of the year in 2023. His slash line there early in the season—.288/.423/.491 with 10 home runs and 29 RBIs—was no fluke. On June 7, against the Rochester Red Wings, Anthony unleashed a 497-foot grand slam, the longest home run in professional baseball that year, a moonshot that echoed through the minors like a promise of Fenway fireworks to come.
That blast was the prelude to his call-up on June 9, a moment that felt less like a promotion and more like destiny unfolding. Stepping into the majors as MLB’s consensus top prospect—ranked No. 1 by Baseball America and Keith Law—Anthony wasted no time. In his first 71 games, he posted a .292/.396/.463 line, blending elite on-base skills with burgeoning power. Eight home runs, 16 doubles, and four stolen bases showcased a five-tool profile: the speed to leg out infield hits, the arm to gun down runners from right field, and the bat control to spray line drives to all fields. Over a scorching two-month stretch from late June to early September, he ranked among the American League’s top hitters, batting .329 with a 158 wRC+ (11th in MLB) and scoring 43 runs (ninth overall). The Red Sox went 38-20 in that span, and Anthony was often the spark—on base ahead of the big hit or delivering it himself. His elite baserunning turned singles into doubles and doubles into triples, injecting athleticism into a lineup that had lacked it.
But it was the endorsement from David Ortiz that truly ignited the frenzy. The Big Papi, Boston’s eternal designated hitter and 2004 World Series savior, doesn’t hand out compliments lightly. In a recent interview on his Apple TV+ show, Ortiz leaned into the camera, his voice gravelly with the authenticity only a three-time champion can muster: “Roman? He’s going to be tough.” The words landed like a cutter in the dirt—precise, unyielding, and impossible to ignore. Ortiz, who knows the Fenway glare better than anyone, having thrived under its pressure with 541 career home runs, saw in Anthony the same quiet fire that defined his own rise. “The kid’s got that approach,” Ortiz elaborated, praising Anthony’s discipline at the plate and his ability to handle the mental grind of a 162-game season. “In Boston, you don’t just hit; you survive. Roman’s built for it.” Fans stopped scrolling mid-tweet, replaying the clip in group chats from Back Bay to the suburbs. Such praise from Papi isn’t hyperbole; it’s a seal of approval from a man who once stared down the Yankees in the ALCS and emerged a legend.
The impact was immediate and profound. Anthony’s already skyrocketing popularity surged—jersey sales spiked 40% overnight, and Worcester Red Sox giveaways featuring his bobbleheads and replica shirts became instant viral sensations on social media. But beyond the merchandise, Ortiz’s words shifted the narrative. No longer was Anthony just a prospect with “potential”; he was a cornerstone, a glimpse of the next great Red Sox baserunner in the mold of a young Jacoby Ellsbury, but with Ortiz-like pop. The organization responded in kind, locking him up to an eight-year, $130 million extension in August, a deal that could keep him in Boston through 2034 and includes All-Star and MVP bonuses poised to kick in soon. Chief baseball officer Craig Breslow called it “an investment in our future,” but for fans, it was validation: the hype was real.
Of course, no rookie season is without its thorns. An oblique strain sidelined Anthony on September 2, just as the Red Sox were surging toward the playoffs. The injury—a gut punch, as third baseman Alex Bregman put it—cost him the final month and a postseason return, despite workouts in Florida showing promise. Boston still clinched a wild-card spot, powered by a rotation featuring Garrett Crochet, Brayan Bello, and Lucas Giolito, but Anthony’s absence highlighted his centrality. He finished third in AL Rookie of the Year voting, behind Oakland’s Nick Kurtz and Jacob Wilson, but manager Alex Cora was unequivocal: “Roman changed our lineup. At 21, he’s got the makeup—the discipline, the power flashes—to be here for a decade.”
As the offseason unfolds, the anticipation builds like the crack of a bat on a summer night. Anthony, now rehabbing and eyeing a full spring, represents more than a player; he’s the embodiment of Boston’s youth movement, a bridge from the cursed past to a championship horizon. Ortiz’s endorsement didn’t create the hype—it amplified it, turning whispers into war cries. In a city where “tough” is currency, Roman Anthony is cashing in. The Fenway faithful, ever skeptical yet hopelessly optimistic, are ready to believe. The rise has begun, and 2026 can’t come soon enough.
