NEW YORK -- It was Luke Weaver who, after the Mets snapped one of the longest losing streaks in franchise history last month, stood on the field, looked up at the Citi Field crowd and crowed, “I’m not the biggest guy in the room, but I ain’t scared of nobody.” It was also Weaver who, following a difficult loss to the Nationals on April 30, spoke quietly about the “freedom” of playing professional baseball “getting suffocated a little bit.”
Weaver gets it. Among the more thoughtful and eloquent players in the game today, Weaver understands how to act when things are going well for the Mets, and he knows the score when things are going poorly. As a high-leverage reliever, Weaver has been at the center of both extremes.
Saturday, Weaver found himself squarely in the middle of things again, entering in the seventh inning with the bases loaded, no outs and a two-run lead over his old team, the Yankees. He struck out Amed Rosario and Trent Grisham in succession to dull the threat, before inducing an inning-ending fielder’s choice from Anthony Volpe.
The Mets went on to win, 6-3 at Citi, taking a tiny bit of the sting out of Clay Holmes’ significant leg injury.
“It’s a cool moment,” Weaver said. “That’s why you play the game.”
The Mets needed that one, especially given the context. Heading into the seventh with a three-run lead, the Mets began to lose their grip when Aaron Judge doubled and Carson Benge dropped a routine fly ball from Cody Bellinger, plating a run. Brooks Raley hit the next batter, before Jazz Chisholm Jr. popped a bunt over the pitcher’s mound for an unorthodox infield hit to load the bases.
Had the Mets gone on to lose at that point, their “LOL Mets” reputation would have only grown.
Instead, Weaver came on to extinguish the fire, giving the Mets a chance to win the first installment of the 2026 Subway Series behind Freddy Peralta on Sunday. Following his Houdini act in the seventh inning, Weaver went on to retire three more batters in the eighth, building a six-out bridge to closer Devin Williams.
“Unicorn stuff,” teammate Juan Soto said.
“Weaver was hittable there,” added manager Carlos Mendoza.
“That was sick,” Mark Vientos said. “That was fun.”
Weaver found plenty of help from teammate Vientos, who drove home three runs to pace the offense. Benge also rapped out a trio of hits, while Soto reached base in all four of his plate appearances, stealing two bases and scoring once. David Peterson, meanwhile, struck out a season-high eight in a bulk-relief role to earn the win.
But it was Weaver who played the most central role. When Weaver entered the game, the Mets had a 54 percent win probability. By the time he departed, retiring Judge with his final pitch, that probability had ballooned to 97 percent.
Along the way, Weaver hit a season-high 97.6 mph on the radar gun -- evidence of his heightened state of emotions. When he struck out Rosario, Weaver stepped toward home plate, demanding the ball back immediately. When he fanned Grisham on a changeup, Weaver half-skipped off the mound. When he retired Volpe, Weaver clapped his glove, unaware that Mendoza was about to ask him to go back out for the eighth.
If the break between innings diminished his adrenaline at all, Weaver didn’t show it, sprinting full speed to cover first base on a double-play ball in the eighth. The only crack in Weaver’s demeanor came in the form of a smirk for Judge as his former teammate approached the plate with two outs. Then Weaver set him down as well.
“That’s what great players do,” Raley said. “Clutch stuff in a big spot. Obviously, we’re chasing some wins right now, and he’s built for that stage. He’s got a lot of poise and control and swag, I would say. So yeah, he was ready for that moment.”
Raley was among several Mets to acknowledge the weight of Saturday’s game, which began about 21 hours after most of them learned about Holmes’ injury. In the clubhouse following Friday’s defeat to the Yankees, emotions were raw. A night later, though Mets types still fretted about a loss that hadn’t gotten any easier to overcome, it was clear that some of the weight had been lifted.
In a jocular postgame clubhouse, Weaver joked about scrawling Holmes’ name underneath his cap, and about trying hard to become his best friend. He and others seemed relieved simply to be able to clown around for a bit, freed from a bit of the stress that had dogged them.
“A lot going on, man,” Weaver said, grinning as he summed up the night. “I’m tired.”