The Insert: Aaron Judge PRIME Review

A Fan's Thirst for Truth, Dingers, and Cherry Freeze Flavor

Inspired by the special inserts thrown into packs by baseball card makers, I’ve decided to surprise readers of The Pack Rat with assorted bits of writing.

In the final innings of 2022, Aaron Judge agreed to return to the New York Yankees on a nine-year, $360 million contract. The late December deal capped an MVP year for the then 30-year-old, who set an American League single-season record by smashing 62 dingers. Still, the Home Run King was thirsty for more.

Neither this title nor the payday that came with it were enough. He had to take a swing at becoming the Drink King as well. PRIME Hydration was happy to oblige and the two announced their partnership early this spring. Founded just a few months before Judge began his historic barrage of longballs by YouTube-stars-turned-sports-drink-upstarts Logan Paul and KSI, PRIME was already a hit with Gen Z. Could the 6’7” Judge help PRIME compete with Gatorade and Powerade, the giants of the field? Only TIME will tell.

I've been fascinated with PRIME since Christmas 2023 when it began appearing on children's wish lists. According to one story, a British father spent £1,000 on cases of PRIME energy drink for his kids. While I refrained from asking Santa for a sampler pack, I, too, began to develop a thirst. One that nagged me every time I grabbed a boring old bottle of water from the bodega cooler but never demanded to be quenched until the pinstriped partnership was announced. Of course, PRIME had high-profile endorsement deals with athletes before Judge, but none of these international superstars were the captain of my beloved New York Yankees.

For weeks, temptation took a baseball bat to the back of my better sense of, well, judgment. Still, I remained dry. As a soon-to-be 34-year-old man, I couldn't stomach the thought of spending $2.99 on a chemical-laden drink destined to destroy my carefully cultivated gut biome. A quick search of the ingredients list kept me away for a while. Acesulfame potassium sounded harmless, like something I was already getting my daily dose of in my morning banana, but it turned out to be an artificial sweetener. On the other hand, there were also natural flavors. I love natural flavors.

The final straw was discovering that the special edition Aaron Judge bottles were New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. "Special edition," "exclusive." I all but drooled as I sped in and out of Manhattan grocery stores, searching for the white bottle with navy blue pinstripes emblazoned with Judge's name and uniform number. When I finally found it in Wegman's, I was so excited that I nearly forgot to pay.

On the subway back to my Brooklyn apartment, I felt like I was smuggling a baby bird in my tote bag. Some exotic parrot that would magically learn to talk and tell me the secrets of life. In other words, I was filled with hope. Unfortunately, those feelings quickly evaporated as I poured the Cherry Freeze-flavored PRIME into my glass at home. The cloudy white liquid reminded me nothing of the scarlet stone fruit. I reminded myself that if this were the intention, the flavor would simply be "Cherry." That would never play in the New York metropolitan area. After all, this is a cosmopolitan town. Only Warhol could get away with the obvious.

Upon first taste, I was struck by its flabby mouthfeel, like the milk of a strange mammal. The flavor was very cherry, as promised, but the sweet and sour aroma invoked a false or perhaps repressed memory involving a clown's makeup. A delayed yet intense finish made my mouth feel like I was sucking on a lithium watch battery. I knew what time it was: PRIME time. My inquisitive sips turned to aggressive gulps, and before I could pair the sports drink with the sharp gouda in my fridge, I finished the whole bottle. My tastebuds were abuzz like the Bronx crowd after a game-winning home run by Aaron Judge himself. Unfortunately, my stomach felt more like the losing pitcher's. Even so, I wanted more.

I don’t smoke, but I assume it’s a similar craving—though I’ll admit I probably looked a little less cool than the leather-jacketed cigarette enjoyer. Aaron Judge PRIME Cherry Freeze tasted bad and made me feel bad, but I couldn’t get enough. I’m not saying this is some addictive, harmful beverage. It’s likely no worse than any unnatural concoction favored by pro athletes and hungover couch potatoes. That being said, I’m not sure that it has the juice to beat PepsiCo’s lineup of Gatorade and Powerade.

While I like to think that I won’t buy another bottle, I know to never say never. I have a habit of torturing myself for no real reason (see: assigning myself this review) and can imagine the milky bitterness scratching a certain itch on a hot day. Perhaps an unseasonably warm morning in November where I’m watching Aaron Judge parade, World Series trophy in hand, down Manhattan’s Canyon of Heroes. As long as another fan doesn’t elbow me in the chops while we’re packed behind the barricades like sardines, I should be able to keep it down.

—Alex Watt