In spring training, I didn’t think I could sell my editor on 20 minutes of Danny Farquhar just talking about pitching, even if it was the most fascinating 20-minute conversation I had ever had on the job, so I roped Lucas Giolito into it.

Farquhar, who joked about any reporter wanting to talk to him, was neither surprised, nor bothered my questions.

Four months later, at the center of a brush with death and an incredibly swift recovery, he remains just as taken aback at a gaggle of Chicago media waiting for him after he threw a baseball for the first time since he suffered a ruptured aneurysm in his brain during an April 20 game in the White Sox dugout.

“Whoa! This is a cool room!” Farquhar said while clasping his wife, Lexie’s hand.

Farquhar didn’t let go of her hand during his media session.

Farquhar said he has no memory of the moment he collapsed in the dugout. He has no memory of pitching an inning against the Astros before that, no memory of scouting hitters’ patterns during that game on the bullpen television like he always does, and no memory of that entire night, even though his teammates said he was acting normal. He has no memory of George Springer taking him deep. He’d probably say he won’t miss that one.

So there’s truth when he jokes about being taken aback when he was still in the ICU by the news he was placed on the 60-day disabled list; he never saw how bad it looked. There was real awe and emotion in his voice when he spoke about being touched by the whole team joining him on the field for his ceremonial first pitch, a safe lob to his friend Nate Jones, and he was truly without an answer for why his story and journey back galvanized outpourings of support from across the league; including texts from players he didn’t know and tributes from teams he never played for.

But he also remembers waking up with staples and a drainage tube in his head with no idea of where he was nor how he got there, and keeping his wife and high school sweetheart from leaving his hospital room, or even his side for a week-and-a-half. Lexie, for her part, managed a sarcastic “Thank you,” when Farquhar quipped that she probably hadn’t bathed during the entire stretch where he was in critical condition. He’s still got jokes, but also the perspective of someone who knows he’s lucky to be around.

White Sox pitcher Danny Farquhar reacts after throwing out a ceremonial first pitch Friday. Farquhar suffered a brain aneurysm at a game earlier this season. (Patrick Gorski/USA TODAY Sports)

“You really learn to appreciate your wife and kids so much more,” Farquhar said. “One day we’re all gonna go, but you’d like to not be as young as I am with three kids, one who’s six months old, and two older ones. So you look at everybody differently.”

The White Sox certainly look at him differently. They called him “Statcast,” and “Google,” and while it was always out of love, it was clear he was a big leaguer of a different breed that they had grown used to. In the days after their playful teasing had turned wistful. They really thought they could lose him.

“That first night, you start looking it up to see what happened, what it is, what a brain aneurysm is, all the numbers and odds that were against him,” Jones said before the White Sox’s 8-3 win over Milwaukee. “When he went down, everybody was hurting. But to see him out there doing something that he loves and being part of a special brotherhood that we have in here, it’s going to be a pretty cool moment.”

The White Sox have had a miserable season. Since spring they’ve seen teammates go down and be carted off, or consoled them after they were optioned for poor performance, held players’ meetings to search for answers or had meetings held for them by an exasperated coaching staff. But this, their darkest moment of the year by a mile, has turned into a triumph somehow, even though statistically, it might have been the most unlikely.

“I think it’s sunshine in a rainy cloud,” reliever Aaron Bummer said. “It’s something I don’t think really any of us expected. He’s a walking miracle and I think we’re all pretty stoked about the fact that he’s going to be here, and hopefully he’s going to start showing his face a little bit more around here.”

Danny Farquhar returns to the mound pic.twitter.com/KXffcxNvZk — James Fegan (@JRFegan) June 2, 2018

There’s an incision scar that runs down the left side of Farquhar’s head, which is a little different, and to see him throw something other than a max-effort four-seam fastball or a buckling circle changeup, is also a little different. But for the most part, it was imperceptible that he was slipping back into a world that had grown foreign to him. Even the black White Sox cap on his head was the first time he had worn a hat since he collapsed, his lofted throw to Jones was the first time he had tested whether his brain could tell his arm to throw, and that his arm would receive the message. He wants to pitch in the majors again, but he’ll have to be sure he remembers how.

“I’m dealing with a lot of memory issues, so a lot of what I’m going through is a blur,” Farquhar said. “A lot of the past is a blur, so I get a free pass with my wife on many issues because I’ve got bad memory problems.”

He’s pushing toward it. Farquhar said he’s been cleared to throw going forward and has been working out steadily for the past three-and-a-half weeks. He cannot lift heavy weights, because he’s still at a point where his doctors, all of whom flanked Farquhar behind the mound during his pitch, can’t guarantee what will happen at this stage when his blood pressure is elevated. He’s working out 90 minutes per day, which probably qualifies as easing back into it for a major leaguer, but it was just last month that being able to amble around the hospital in a gown with Lexie was a blessing.

There’s a bit more uncertainty in Farquhar’s voice about his career than there probably would have been when he was pulling himself out of his hospital bed. He says “I hope so,” and “one day,” when he talks about playing again, as if he’s become more educated about the obstacles facing him for a return to the highest level in baseball. His arm listens to his brain when he tells it to throw, and Jones didn’t have to lunge for it, but he’ll have to see how much the mitt moves when he’s humming it over 90 mph again. The way his wife talks about it, none of that means much.

“I’ve known Danny for a long time,” Lexie said. “And every time someone has said no he can’t, he’s always said, ‘Yes I can.’ So from the moment they told me every issue that was going on, I was like, ‘It might be a rough road, but it’s one that’s going to end with him doing what he loves and him doing it his way.’ Because he always has.”

And maybe on that day, he won’t be surprised when we’re all fascinated by him again.

(Top photo: Patrick Gorski/USA TODAY)