ON A CHARBROILED May morning in Tempe, Ariz., at a nondescript strip mall among a sea of them, Justin Upton exits his ride, puts his black-and-white Dolce & Gabbana sneakers on the asphalt and walks across the parking lot toward a cellphone store. Up ahead, the Diamondbacks outfielder can see folks standing behind a maze of black ropes, in a loose line that snakes along the left side of the building. They are here to get his autograph.

It's a younger crowd, or at least younger than what one might expect in the Greater Phoenix area: lots of men with young children in D-backs caps, and college-aged women wearing Upton's No. 10 jersey. A security guard with a buzz cut stands indifferently near the front door, waiting for the 24-year-old ballplayer -- the man who seven months earlier had led his team to an improbable playoff berth, won a Silver Slugger Award and finished fourth in the National League's MVP voting. The man who now is mired in the worst hitting slump of his five-year career.



"M-V-P!" shouts someone behind the rope.

The challenge this season has been to get all of his tools and confidence working together. Darren Carroll for ESPN The Magazine

Upton looks wearily at the crowd. The previous night, he'd gone 0-for-3 with a strikeout and an error in a win against the Giants. His average dropped to .229. After his teammates cleared the clubhouse and the lights were turned off at Chase Field, he stayed behind to study video of his at-bats; pitch by pitch, swing by swing. Leg straight. Don't turn over. A few hours later, Upton drove alone to his townhouse near Scottsdale, arriving well past midnight. His parents were visiting from Virginia. He woke his father, Manny; he wanted to talk about hitting. Upton crouched in his batting stance and mimicked his swing while Dad offered critiques. Upton's mother slept just a few feet away.

His passion is, at times, his Achilles' heel, and his immense talent is both a blessing and a curse. Those 31 home runs, 88 RBIs and 105 runs last year would have been a career season for most players. For Upton, the overall No. 1 pick of the 2005 draft, they are supposed to be the beginning. And so the kid who has had expectations heaped on him since he was a teenager is now confronting the central tension of his new season: Is he ready to be a franchise player? Does he have the maturity to lead a team and to endure if he struggles, as he has so often in his short career? Only the next five months will reveal that. But there is one thing of which Upton is already certain: In his world, anything short of perfection will be seen as a failure.

On this morning, hearing the "MVP" call from behind the rope, he is in no mood for encouragement. "I'm hitting .230, man," Upton mumbles as he brushes past the line.

During slumps of years past, events like this autograph session would worry the people who handled Upton's schedule. One bad game and the rightfielder might show up an hour late. He was seen as uncaring, detached. "You wouldn't know what to say to him," says one of Upton's reps, Mike Dillon, as he watches Upton slide into a seat in the middle of the store. "Or you're worried what someone might say to him."

But here he is. The new Upton, or at least the Upton who now understands what's asked of him. He'd discussed it with his inner circle -- his parents, girlfriend Ashley Borror, best friend on the team Chris Young and agent Larry Reynolds -- before the season began. Be yourself, they told him; good things will happen. Maturity is now his watchword, as in, Isn't Justin so much more mature? He is, at least today. From his chair, he can see the crowd building outside as wave after wave of bats and balls and jerseys and photos are placed on the table in front of him.

Upton signs a photo, Happy birthday, Ethan!

He signs a bat. Then a ball.

Dillon is beaming. He fetches Upton a blackberry soda and a bottled water. Smiles all around. Thirty minutes later, after the last fans pass through the door, some store employees line up for a group picture. Soon Upton is ready to leave.

"Good luck tonight," someone says as Upton makes his way toward the door. "Tear it up."

Upton nods his head. And with that, he's gone.

"I BELIEVE I'M capable of being No. 1," Upton says a few weeks later as he sprawls across a couch in his townhouse. Even lying down, he looks like a coiled spring -- 6'2" and a lean 205 pounds, a mass of sinewy limbs and fast-twitch fibers. "I expect to come in, hit for power, hit for average and steal bases," he says, jabbing his finger into a cushion. "I hit 31 home runs last year. I want to hit 35. I hit .289. I want to hit .310. I stole 21 bases. I want to steal 30. Do I want to do the same thing again? That's a little boring."

Upton was leading MLB in strikeouts when he was benched in June. Darren Carroll for ESPN The Magazine



Growing up in the Hampton Roads area of Virginia, nothing came easier to Upton than baseball. He learned hitting from his father, a former college athlete who once worked as a scout for the Royals and White Sox. He learned the value of competition from older brother B.J., the Rays outfielder selected second overall in 2002. As a 10-year-old, the younger Upton was pitched around as if he were Babe Ruth. By 2005, he was 17 and tearing up teenage pitchers as a shortstop for Great Bridge High School in Chesapeake. Scouts flocked to his games and saw a superstar: a power hitter's stroke from the right side; quick, strong hands that could place the ball anywhere on the field; great defensive instincts and a laser arm; and a lower body built like an Olympic athlete. After drafting him in '05, Arizona gave him what was then a record $6.1 million signing bonus.

Success came quickly. He was 18 years old with Class-A South Bend in 2006 when he hit 12 home runs, stole 15 bases and drove in 66 runs in 113 games. The next year, he shredded Double-A and was called up to Arizona in early August 2007, just shy of his 20th birthday. Five days later, he hit his first home run and fell a single short of the cycle. Still, Upton was, by his own admission, too naive and reckless as a rookie. He threw helmets and smashed bats in the dugout when he failed. He cut up his body when he leapt into an outfield wall. He flew up the first base line on routine infield choppers, not caring if he blew out a hamstring. He hit .221 in 140 at-bats.

"At 19, I didn't think at all," Upton says. "I was a kid playing with grown men."

The following season, he exploded out of the gates, batting .415 with five home runs in his first 11 games. But he hit only .216 in May, then .123 in June. He lost time to an oblique injury and worried constantly about his production. He became sullen after losses. During the season, Arizona's medical staff asked Peter Crone, the team's "performance specialist," to meet with Upton. The two sat on a training table one day and talked about rising expectations. "He had this immense talent that everyone wanted to draw out of him," says Crone, who works as a mental coach in California. "The first thing I wanted Justin to do was to accept himself."

In 2009, Upton's third season, he found his swagger. He hit 26 home runs, stole 20 bases, batted .300 and made his first All-Star team. At 21, he was the NL's pre-eminent young star. But he was also tagged with another label: immature. His dugout temper tantrums were beamed on TV highlights across the country. And at times, Upton would seem coolly disconnected. He blew pink-bubble-gum bubbles as he stood in the outfield or admired his home run blasts.

"No one was there to talk to him, to sit him down and say, This is how things work in the major leagues," says Don Baylor, who was with the Rockies at the time and is now the Diamondbacks' hitting coach. "It was totally hands off."

While Upton struggled with his image, Arizona clearly understood his value, signing him to a six-year, $51.25 million extension in 2010 and creating "Uptown," a section of bleacher seats behind the rightfield fence. But Upton slumped again at the season's start, finishing with just 18 home runs and 64 RBIs as Arizona went 65-97, the third-worst record in baseball. In the offseason, his name was mentioned in trade discussions. That left an indelible mark on him. "I was golfing with CY [Chris Young], and I read about it on my phone," Upton remembers. "I saw how much of a business this really is."