The first few times, they figured he wanted something to drink. Then they started to wonder if he might be lost. But after watching Juan Soto stride dozens of times from his position in right field to the bullpen during breaks in action, New York Mets relievers have finally accepted: He just wants to hang out with us. 

“I guess we’re good company,” says righty Max Kranick. 

It’s one of the highlights of the game for everyone involved: Nearly every time the Mets make a mid-inning pitching change, the highest-paid player in sports history visits his most fungible teammates. 

“At times, the bullpen can feel like they’re part of the team but they’re outside the team,” says bullpen coach José Rosado, “So having him around is bringing a lot of joy to our bullpen guys.”

But Soto is not just gracing the humble relievers with his presence. “I love those guys,” he says. “They’re my teammates. I just like to pick their heads and find out what they’re thinking about the situation in the game.”

And indeed, he requests such detailed scouting reports that Rosado finds himself studying a bit before the game so he can be ready. In the first inning, Soto stops by to grab a few sunflower seeds that he drops on the outfield grass as positioning markers. He says a brief hello but gets to work. But as the innings unspool, the conversations get longer—although never more than the minute and a half or so before he needs to be back in right. 

When the Mets faced the Philadelphia Phillies last month, New York made a pitching change in the top of the seventh, and Soto ambled over to the bullpen. He figured he’d face lefty Matt Strahm in the bottom of the inning, and he wanted to know how lefty A.J. Minter thought Strahm might pitch him. 

“You’re a guy who’s not gonna chase,” Minter said. “You know the strike zone. I think he’s gonna come right at you.”

Instead, Strahm dotted the corners and struck Soto out looking. 

Minter chuckles. “I kind of avoided him the rest of the night,” he acknowledges. 

Other scouting reports are more successful. Soto has polled the group for advice on how to improve his throwing arm and picked up a few drills. He requests detailed information on how the relievers plan to pitch each hitter in the next inning, so he can adjust his defensive positioning. And when their intel leads to a successful play, he makes sure to acknowledge them. 

Soto has always had a good relationship with relievers—when he played for the Washington Nationals, the San Diego Padres and the New York Yankees, he would stop by occasionally, and part of his home run celebration with the Yankees last year involved pointing to the bullpen. 

“That’s kind of how he’s always been as a teammate,” says Clay Holmes, who was a longtime Yankees reliever before becoming the Mets’ No. 2 starter this year. “He makes it a point to hang out with more people.” 

But Soto, who signed a $765 million, 15-year deal this offseason because he is a generational hitter, simply can’t get enough of these relief pitchers. Not all of the conversations are so serious; sometimes they banter about video games. And Soto, who is bilingual in English and Spanish, easily switches languages. Righty Ryne Stanek theorizes that the visits offer a break from what must be a high-pressure life. “The bullpen is typically a less serious place,” he says. “Sometimes it’s nice to have, like, a quiet place. Just 30 seconds of quiet.”

And not much more than that. The relievers marvel at his internal sense of timing: Sometimes he will pull up a chair with his back facing the scoreboard, never appear to look at the clock—and still make it back to his position with three or four seconds left before the game resumes. 

Stanek grins. They have a good thing going, he says: “He just comes in, hangs out, shoots the breeze for 90 seconds, and he’s like, ‘All right, see you guys in a couple innings!’”


This article was originally published on www.si.com as Juan Soto’s Secret Weapon Is the Mets’ Bullpen.

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