Cashman Made A Problem For The Yankees Acquiring Devin Williams

Brian Cashman’s biggest blunder of the off season was trading for a closer we didn’t need. There, I said it. And so here’s a riddle: What do you get when you trade real talent for a guy whose job is to close games, when your team already had a guy successfully doing that exact thing?

Answer: You get Brian Cashman’s Yankees.

Let’s rewind to the offseason, where all the Yankees had to do was keep it simple. Really simple. Sign two reliable starting pitchers — we got one in Max Fried (OK, good job, I guess) — and then grab a few strong bullpen pieces. You know, middle relief, setup guys, people who don’t flinch in the seventh with two on and nobody out. That’s it. That was the blueprint.

Nowhere on that list: “Replace Luke Weaver as the closer.” The man was holding down the ninth inning like a bouncer at closing time. Cool, effective, and not the problem. Naturally, Cashman — always one for dramatic overcorrections — blew it up.

Enter Devin Williams, the guy with a “closer’s pedigree” and apparently a reputation that still hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s 2025. Now, Cashman tried to peddle the laughable excuse that this move wasn’t to replace Weaver, just to “bolster the bullpen.” Sure, Brian. And I drink tequila “just for the taste.” You don’t trade Nestor Cortes and Caleb Durbin unless you’re making Devin Williams the guy.

And guess what? He became “the guy.” Unfortunately, “the guy” can’t close a window, let alone a baseball game. Let’s be real. Devin Williams has turned the ninth inning into a high-wire act performed by a juggler with no hands. His command is off; his confidence is shattered and watching him work is like waiting for a car crash in slow motion.

So, I’ll say it: Trade Devin Williams.

Here’s the catch. You can’t. His trade value is somewhere between “expired coupon” and “Yankees Cable Package.” Even Jon Heyman — hardly the voice of Yankee pessimism — admitted executives around the league are “split” on whether Williams can be dealt at all. Translation: The Yankees aren’t getting back anywhere close to what they gave up. Nestor Cortes? Gone. Yet the Yankees still need a fifth starter. Caleb Durbin? Wouldn’t he look nice filling in at second base with Jazz on the shelf? But no, we shipped both out for a closer we didn’t need and who’s now unmovable.

Nice job, Brian. Really crushing the “ineptitude speedrun” this season. And look, Williams has been marginally better lately. He’s had a few clean outings, sure — with the glaring exception of May 5th, when he coughed up three runs to the Padres and turned Yankee Stadium into a haunted house. That’s not growth. That’s temporary containment.

But what really made me snap was the off-field stuff. There are reports that Williams, shortly after arriving, sauntered into Hal Steinbrenner’s office and had thoughts about the team’s hair policy. Look, when you’re blowing saves left and right, maybe worry less about grooming standards and more about earning your paycheck.

Then came the quote that really sent me off the rails: “I just don’t feel like myself.” Oh, boo-hoo. You’re being paid millions of dollars to throw a baseball 60 feet. Feeling a little off? So are we — every single time you take the mound in a one-run game.

Here’s the bottom line: Williams was brought in to be a difference-maker. Instead, he’s been a disaster. Boone keeps running him out there hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’ll stumble into a save and spark something. But at this point, it feels like we’re rolling a boulder uphill and pretending its strategic.

I’d love to say I’m optimistic that he’ll turn it around. But I’m not. I’m not holding my breath, crossing my fingers, or rubbing any lucky rabbit’s feet. Devin Williams looks broken, and thanks to Cashman’s latest miscalculation, we’re stuck with the pieces.