CAPITOLA — Bryan Stow stands on a deck in his backyard. Using his left hand to balance his 250-pound frame on a walker, he wraps his right hand around a baseball and unleashes a pitch with all his might.

“Perfect — just like that,” says his father — and catcher — Dave.

Four years ago, after a savage beating outside Dodger Stadium left Stow in a coma, many doubted he would live, let alone resemble his active, vivacious self again.

Now here he stands channeling his inner Tim Lincecum.

“That was pretty good, right?” he asks a visitor, flashing a big thumbs up and an even bigger smile.

Thursday night at San Jose Municipal Stadium, Stow will park his walker midway between the pitching mound and home plate and throw the ceremonial first pitch for the San Jose Giants’ home opener.

It will be a moment for the Stow family to celebrate just how far they’ve traveled on this rollercoaster journey.

Every day moves them a little farther past courtrooms and hospitals. All they need to know is that Bryan is enjoying life — as he himself will gladly announce to anyone who’s wondering.

“I’m back!” he says.

***

Dr. Gabriel Zada, the neurosurgeon who worked on Stow at LAC+USC Medical Center has one word for it: “Miraculous.”

“It’s a relatively rare case to see that dramatic of a recovery,” Zada said. “He really came as close to dying as anyone I’ve seen in my 12 years.”

Geoffrey Manley, chief neurosurgeon at San Francisco General Hospital, took over Stow’s care while he remained in a coma and was experiencing severe seizures — a common symptom for patients with traumatic brain injury.

“We almost lost him several times,” Manley said. “He was extremely sick.”

But CT scans also showed reason for hope, that there didn’t appear to be damage to the brain stem and brain structure, only to “the more superficial areas that dealt with consciousness.”

“They always stayed extremely cooperative and positive and hopeful,” he said of the Stows. “It was a journey we took together — let’s keep trying, let’s keep trying.

“It just shows how important family is in these things. I credit them more than anything we did.”

Stow, 46, is a long way from where he hopes to be in the days and months and years ahead. Just how far can he go? No one’s quite sure.

The former paramedic must ingest 56 pills a day to ward off blood clots and seizures, like the one he suffered last June while his parents were in Los Angeles at the civil trial they would ultimately win against the Dodgers and defendants Marvin Norwood and Louie Sanchez.

Though he’s shedding weight thanks to a steady swimming regimen and hopes to use his crutches more, Stow’s compromised motor skills keep him mostly confined to a wheelchair when he leaves the house. While his short-term memory has improved, his parents are constantly helping fill in the details — and reminding him to take certain meds or call his children, 16-year-old Tyler and 12-year-old Tabitha, who live with their mother in nearby Scotts Valley. Full-time care might always be required.

Nonetheless, the Stow household — which includes the frequent support of younger sisters Erin and Bonnie — carries a remarkable sense of positivity and gratitude. It also bubbles with humor.

Sitting at the dining room table, Bryan jabs at his dad about his love for Merle Haggard and country music. Dad fires back about Bryan’s inexplicable admiration of the Dallas Cowboys.

“It was the cheerleaders, duh!” Bryan says.

Ann recalls how Bryan — a hard rock fan whose favorite band Queensryche came to his bedside in San Francisco (“How cool is that?” he asks) — once sported hair down to his butt.

Later, Erin swings by the house to say hello and begins plucking at his bushy eyebrows. “Bryan, you know you’re posing for the newspaper, right?” she asks as he winces in pain.

***

Although a Los Angeles Superior Court jury awarded Stow $18 million from the Dodgers and his assailants 10 months ago, the family has yet to see a dime of it. A recent Bloomberg story detailed how the settlement has been ensnared by a little-known concept called subrogation, which allows insurance companies to recoup expenses, while holding up compensation.

Even though estimates on Stow’s future care reach as high as $30 million, the family says, their attorneys expect them to receive as little as $5.8 million when it’s all settled.

Dave and Ann Stow, however, say they don’t spend a lot of time thinking about that.

“We’ve got Bryan to think about,” Ann says.

And Bryan’s got his own stuff to think about, like throwing a strike Thursday night. Tim Flannery and Jeremy Affeldt — Stow’s biggest Giants supporters — expressed disappointment that they won’t be in San Jose for the occasion. (Both have commitments to the San Francisco club — Affeldt as a reliever, Flannery as a broadcaster.)

It boggles the mind of Affeldt to realize he was standing on the mound at AT&T Park next to Tyler Stow three years ago, while Bryan, still trying to regain his motor skills at a rehab center in Bakersfield, virtually handed the ball to his son and wished him luck.

Flannery recounted a wisecrack Bryan made at a recent benefit concert Flannery’s band played in Santa Cruz. “I wheeled him up on stage so he could meet my wife,” Flannery said, “and he said to her ‘What do you see in this guy?'”

Ann Stow can hardly recall life before the whirlwind — shuttling between hospitals, rehabilitation centers, physical and occupational therapy appointments.

“We’ve met so many people that weren’t in our lives before,” she says.

They gravitate toward Bryan not just because of his big teddy bear looks and jokester persona, but also the fact he exudes the same resilient spirit of his team.

He shouted “Play Ball” from the field before Game 4 of the World Series last October alongside Flannery and Affeldt. Schools around Santa Cruz are lining up to have him come to their campus and share his infectious spirit.

There are times when Bryan gets down. “But,” his mom says, “Dave and I remind him how far he’s come.”

Ann says the public outpouring is most overwhelming when they take Bryan to a ballgame and wheel him around the stadium. The love comes from all quarters.

“Even the panhandlers outside the stadium will be saying ‘Hey, Bryan!'” Ann laughs. “People love being around Bryan. He’s got that light, that aura.”

Staff writer Andrew Baggarly contributed to this report. Contact Mark Conley at mconley@mercurynews.com. Follow him on Twitter twitter.com/MarkConley.