Mets' Devin Williams, Luke Weaver are bullpen buddies

It wasn’t a circumstance that generally would be conducive to camaraderie.

Luke Weaver, a reliever who had swooped in and assumed the Yankees’ closer role after Clay Holmes struggled at the tail end of 2024, found himself replaced. The Yankees traded for Devin Williams — at that point one of the best closers in the game — and Weaver, a converted starter who had spent the better part of a decade figuring out his place in the baseball ecosystem, again had to adjust.

And then the troubles began.

Williams, who had never played for any team but the Brewers, gave up nine runs (seven earned) in eight innings in his first nine appearances in the Bronx. Boos rained down as a matter of course.

The closer’s role went back to Weaver, who hummed along nicely, not allowing an earned run in his first 13 games.

Then a June hamstring injury derailed his season. The Yankees traded for David Bednar at the deadline, and by the time September rolled around, both Weaver and Williams spent most ninth innings in their seats.

Though teammates, they could be natural rivals — two guys trying to save their egos, their roles and their livelihoods in a year in which both were set to hit free agency.

And yet . . .

“You get to know a guy, your locker is right next to them,” Weaver told Newsday. “You’re just trying to build a relationship over time, some trust and respect .  .  . and at the end of the day, at the end of the year, you’re hoping that you’ve built something decent. So coming over here was just seamless, and it was comfortable. And I think we lean on each other, and we’ve leaned on each other early.”

“Here,” of course, now is the Mets. Right now, they represent a back end that has what generally would be considered the unenviable task of filling the void left by Edwin Diaz, whose dominance (and trumpet entrance) created an aura of invincibility.

Williams and Weaver are not Diaz, nor do they claim to be. What they are is a bit of yin and yang, at least from the outside looking in.

Williams is understated. Weaver is a ham. In the great tradition of buddy comedies everywhere, they find their lives intersecting again.

If you’re wondering, their lockers still are next to each other. (And because baseball has a sense of humor, Holmes sits a few lockers away — an entire set of deposed Yankees closers.)

“We’re different in different ways, right?” Williams told Newsday. “On camera, he wants to be the star. I’m completely the opposite. I really don’t care. But I’d say off camera, we’re similar. We like to play around and we joke with each other. It’s a good dynamic.”

Added Weaver: “We’re very different, but not in the bad way. That’s what makes it cool . . .

“I’ve grown to appreciate different things I’ve learned from his perspective and the things that he likes. He has a good laugh when, [with] a lot of things he says, I just don’t know or understand. The same could go for me, with [him] deciphering [my] dad jokes or just puns or witty wittiness. [He gives] a little bit of a respectful smile — something [that says], ‘I can’t quite [understand] that, but I can appreciate where you came from.’  ”

Before Weaver’s struggles this past week, it had mostly worked. Before he coughed up two runs against the Diamondbacks on Thursday, neither had allowed a run. Weaver allowed four more runs against the A’s on Saturday, but otherwise, the bullpen has fared well.

Going into the 11-6 loss to the A’s, the unit’s 2.85 ERA was third in the National League. Still, it’s early, and both Weaver and Williams know plenty about working through rough outings.  

There are plenty of fresh faces in there, but Williams and Weaver help set the tone. Every bullpen is different, Weaver noted, and the one the Mets have is “balanced” — in part because they’re different but the same, not unlike their setup man and closer.

“We’ve got funny guys in Brooks [Raley], we’ve got serious guys in Devin,” Weaver said. “We have Latin guys, white guys, we have everything.  We have a diverse crowd with [different] cultural backgrounds. We’re learning. We’re trying to speak Spanish sometimes. We’re learning about each other’s backgrounds .  .  . It’s a beautiful thing, and in the bullpen, there’s a lot of that going on. Typically, the first half of the game, we’re just kind of kicking back, watching the game and having lot of conversations.”

Things change as the game ticks on, of course. Removed from their teammates and with roles singular to the sport, relievers have to understand each other’s approaches, temperaments and processes.

“It’s like another unit out there,” Williams said. “The bullpen itself is like its own team within a team. We all need each other. Him doing his job makes my job easier, and vice versa. It applies to everyone down the line. So we really have to be close and spend a lot of time together . . .

“I feel like our bullpen so far is a lot of guys. We’re still building that chemistry with guys I haven’t known in the past, but I think it’s coming along nicely.”

In a way, that helps rein in overly active egos. Pride is important — no one gets this far without a drive to do well — but at its best, members of the bullpen are fingers on the same hand.

Weaver seems to embrace that mentality. When Williams first showed up in the Bronx, Weaver understood that he had never played anywhere else — much less in such a big market.

As for Weaver? “I’ve been through quite a few” teams, he said. “I tried to lend a hand . . . It’s a big culture shock.”

Ceding his role was OK if it meant more collective success.

“He earned it,” Weaver said of Williams. “I can make a case that I could be pitching in that role, but that’s not what I set out to do. It’s cool, [but] it’s just a label . . . I’ve gone through a lot in this game. I’ve started, I’ve been a long guy . . . He’s had high success in this game and he’s earned every right [to close] . . . That’s an All-Star.”

Incidentally, Williams showed a similar spirit when he signed with the Mets.

“It’s a job you had to earn,” he said during spring training. “If you’re not performing, then changes get made. All I can do is work as hard as I can and try to put good results on the field and try to win games.”

“I just want to win,” Weaver said. “It doesn’t just take one person in one role. It takes all of us collectively doing our job. There are going to be days where [Williams is] down and I’ve got to step up, or Brooks [has to], or everybody else in the pen. We’re going to have to put it together.

“It’s easy to get wrapped up into what I want or what I deserve. I don’t look at it like that. Of course I have things that I want, but they’re not necessarily [the priority]. I’m just happy to be here. He just continues to do his thing. I’ll do mine. And success comes in different ways and different looks.”

So does camaraderie. Though it looks as if maybe these two aren’t as different as they seem.

By Laura Albanese

laura.albanese@newsday.com@AlbaneseLaura

Laura Albanese is the Mets beat writer for Newsday. She's been covering MLB since 2014 after starting at Newsday as an intern seven years earlier.