Max Fried donned the pinstripes for the first time as he was introduced at Yankee Stadium on Wednesday. NewsdayTV's Laura Albanese reports. Credit: Newsday/Howard Schnapp

Max Fried walked up to the dais at Yankee Stadium in a slim-fit navy suit, a businessman’s blue-checked tie, and the air of a mild-mannered banker about to explain your various mortgage options. He spoke softly, espoused the virtues of the mythical pinstripes, and sometimes smiled, if only slightly.

And you might look at all of that and wonder.

Sure, Fried, despite a sometimes unfortunate injury history, was dominant in Atlanta. He’s a two-time All-Star, a World Series champion, and was in some early-season Cy Young discussions last year (he came in second in 2022). But this is New York, and Fried just signed the largest contract ever extended to a lefthanded pitcher at eight years, $218 million. At the moment, he’s the biggest piece in the consolation prize that we’re going to call Not Juan Soto.

Successful Yankees, though, are supposed to have swagger. They’re supposed to have aura. They’re supposed to have a sort of Teflon confidence that can withstand getting booed by 40,000 people after one bad outing in mid-June.

But from what we saw Wednesday, Fried might become a different sort of Yankee, both in temperament and skill set. And that’s not a bad thing. In fact, as the Yankees attempt to wash away the sting of last year’s docile World Series exit, it might very well be a necessary thing.

First, the most important part: Fried was 11-10 last season with a 3.25 ERA, stayed mostly healthy on his way to pitching 174 1⁄3 innings, and posted a 2.91 walk-to-strikeout ratio. In a rotation that features more strikeout-heavy pitchers, Fried falls into the soft-tossing lefty category (“soft-tossing” being relative — this isn’t the ’90s we’re talking about). He’s a ground-ball pitcher with a five-pitch arsenal that occasionally expands to seven, and the variety between him and, say, Gerrit Cole, can only help the Yankees from game to game.

However, there are other parts of Fried’s personality that speak to a player who might just thrive in generally hostile environments. Though he seems almost timid, there’s no denying that, athletically, he was nothing short of a hotshot in high school, getting drafted seventh overall in 2012. The minor leagues, though, weren’t kind: He underwent Tommy John surgery in 2014, didn’t pitch again until 2016, and by the time 2017 came around, he had a 5.54 ERA between Double- and Triple-A.

And then he was called up, and for a guy who struggled with confidence throughout his life, the conditions weren’t exactly ideal.

“I was always very soft-spoken and probably had a lot of low self-confidence as a kid — but I was just always very competitive,” he said Wednesday. When Atlanta called him up, “it was a little bit of, ‘I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stay or if this is going to be my only opportunity.’ I think it unlocked a little vulnerability in me saying, this is who I am as a player. I’m going to give it everything I have and if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Then so be it, but I can live with it.”

It’s not really a story you hear much in professional sports, where we’re often force-fed the nonsense notion that anything is possible if you just believe in yourself. Instead, Fried confronted the reality of the situation, took stock of both his strengths and failings, and believed in the work. Understanding that failure is not only possible but likely can be a superpower for some people; it’s especially helpful in a sport often built around failure. But Fried didn’t fail, and after, the confidence came.

That sort of trial by fire is invaluable, especially in high-pressure situations. It’s the sort of confidence that whispers, rather than screams. “I can do difficult things because I’ve done them before” is a lot more powerful than “I can do this because, of course I can.”

And it does seem like a lot of that has stuck with Fried, even as he’s achieved major-league success. Brian Cashman, Aaron Boone and pitching coach Matt Blake all said they were impressed by the initial Zoom call they had with the pitcher — particularly when it came to his interest in evolving in his craft. Fried was interested in the Yankees’ pitching lab, and learning more about pitch shapes, optimizing his arsenal, and being more consistent. He’s ready to analyze and tinker, despite having already secured a big-time payday.

“You kind of see him in there — soft-spoken, articulate and reserved, but this is a guy that’s kind of tenacious between the lines,” Boone said. “He’s a frontline starter already, so how much can you move that needle? Hopefully we can, and I know it’s just the early stages of getting to know him, but he feels like the type of guy [who has a] thirst for things that are going to help him as he evolves through his career.”

It’s a yeoman’s work ethic, an accountant’s temperament, and an athlete’s thirst for competition. Whether it spells success in the Bronx is yet to be seen, but it’s a good start.