When the New York Yankees swung a deal for All-Star reliever Devin Williams, sending fan-favorite Nestor Cortes and promising prospect Caleb Durbin to Milwaukee, they envisioned lights-out dominance from the back end of the bullpen.
Williams was supposed to be the finishing move, the knockout punch—like bringing a scalpel to a bar fight. Instead, he’s shown up with a butter knife.
Eight innings into his Yankees tenure, Williams is lugging around a 7.88 ERA. Not only has he failed to shut the door in late innings, but he’s cracked it wide open more than once, costing the team a couple of winnable games.
A Changeup That Isn’t Changing Anything
The issue lies in the pitch that made him famous: that devastating, gravity-defying changeup. Once considered sorcery by hitters, it’s now looking more like a batting practice offering.
He’s throwing it 57 percent of the time—leaning on it like a crutch—but it’s no longer the weapon it once was.
To understand just how off the rails things have gone, consider this: since 2020, the changeup never dipped below a 40% whiff rate. This season? It’s at a shocking 22.4%.
Hitters aren’t missing it. They’re sitting on it like it’s a middle-middle meatball in a 3-1 count. The illusion is gone: it has a .402 xwOBA against.
Fastball Fixes and the Art of Deception
Yankees insider Greg Joyce hinted at the fix—less changeup, more heat. Williams’ fastball has been more of a supporting actor in recent outings, but without it, the changeup has nothing to contrast against.
It’s like telling the same punchline without ever setting up the joke.
The numbers aren’t lying: hitters are feasting on the fastball too, posting a .372 wOBA against it. But even that stat doesn’t paint the full picture. If used strategically—maybe in a mix closer to last season’s 53.5% four-seamers and 45% changeups—it could restore the pitch’s fading magic.
That formula netted him a 1.25 ERA in 2024. It was balanced. Unpredictable. Effective.
Of course, he still needs to refine his command, regain a tick or two with his heater, and find more consistency overall. But a change in his pitch mix could help him over the long run.
Tipping the Scales
Williams’ dominance has always been about deception, about forcing hitters to guess wrong. Right now, he’s become too readable—like a thriller novel with the plot twist on page ten.
Adjusting the pitch mix is more than a tweak; it’s a return to what worked when he was one of baseball’s most feared late-inning arms.
The Yankees didn’t trade for an experiment—they traded for a sure thing. It’s time to stop forcing the issue and start throwing with purpose.