Bob Nightengale

USA TODAY Sports

Six months ago, David Ross was a backup catcher.

Today, he’s a 40-year-old heartthrob.

Since he last wore a Chicago Cubs uniform, Ross has become one of America’s favorite dancers. An author. An ESPN analyst. A Cubs front-office executive. And the proud bearer of a second World Series championship ring.

Oh, and there's also a movie about his life in the works.

“I’ve got enough job titles,’’ Ross tells USA TODAY Sports. “Really, I just want to go home. I want to be dad again.’’

Ross, who retired from baseball last November, is boarding a flight Thursday from Bristol, Conn., where he was doing a publicity stop for his book, Teammate: My Journey in Baseball and a World Series for the Ages. This was after stopping into the ESPN studios, after appearing on Good Morning America, after guesting on LIVE with Kelly & Ryan, after enduring an entire season on Dancing with the Stars, after working his first game as an ESPN analyst, after his White House visit, and after winning the first Cubs World Series in 108 years.

Whew, got all of that?

“I feel like my World Series parade has come to an end. I’m completely exhausted,’’ says Ross, who has slept six hours in the past three days. “It was such an unbelievable ride being on Dancing with the Stars, I still can’t get over it.

“Being the first major-league player to be on the show was such a huge honor. I wanted to represent baseball well. And I wanted to make sure I didn’t let anybody down.’’

Marlins' Marcell Ozuna thrives while coping with loss of best friend Jose Fernandez

Boy struck in head by Chris Carter's broken bat at Yankees game

Chris Sale falls short of new strikeout record but Red Sox rally to win

Who could have imagined, least of all Ross, that he and his 23-year-old partner, Lindsay Arnold, would finish runner-up in the entire competition, nearly pulling off perhaps the most stunning upset in the 24-season history of the show?

“Really, I was just hoping to make it Week 3,’’ Ross says. “I was actually prepared to go home four weeks ago. It was amazing.

“It’s very similar to a playoff run. The schedule was nuts. It’s like a whole season in itself. You’re so emotionally focused on the moment, just like you are every pitch in the playoffs. The nerves are kicking like it’s a playoff or World Series game.

“And when you step out on the dance floor, you become very vulnerable. It felt like I was sky-diving or something. One slip-up, and America is ready to make fun of you.

“Then, it just ends so fast, like a baseball season in the playoffs. It’s over. Boom.’’

Ross, who can’t wait to jump into the pool Friday with his three kids, ages 10 to 19 months, will finally have a moment to relax at home in Tallahassee, Fla.. It will last a little less than 72 hours.

Ross has to be in Baltimore on Sunday to prepare for the Orioles-New York Yankees 1:05 p.m. ET broadcast Monday on ESPN. He’ll travel to Chicago for book signings. And then he’ll be doing his first ESPN Sunday Night telecast at the Cubs-St. Louis Cardinals game at Wrigley Field.

“I’m sure the boys will be giving it to me then,’’ Ross says. “But I’ll be thanking them, too. I can’t believe the outpouring of support. I know I wasn’t the best dancer, but people enjoyed my journey. I felt so much love from so many walks of life.

“I look back now, and if I wasn’t able to experience it all, I would have felt (shortchanged). I tried something that could have been embarrassing, and something I’m not good at, and grew as a person. It gave me a lot of confidence. I learned to have patience with myself and everything I do.

“Baseball was such a long journey in my life, but this thing made me grow up so fast, and the feedback was so rewarding. Really, it changed me.’’

Certainly, it dramatically altered the image of a backup catcher who was a career .229 hitter, played for seven teams, and only once played more than 100 games in a season.

“It’s been so strange,’’ Ross says, “it’s almost like people forgot or don’t even care I played baseball. I go the grocery store, and I hear people say, “Hey, there’s that “Dancing with the Stars’ guy.’ I’m like, “Wait a minute, I won two World Series with the Boston Red Sox and Chicago Cubs.’

“But they just know me for dancing. Instead of men coming up asking for autographs, women will come up and take pictures. So many people gravitate toward you now. I’m not any different. I’m the same idiot as before. But everybody else is treating me different. It’s pretty funny.’’

Ross, who began this dance journey with his first rehearsal March 1, spending at least five hours each day with Arnold and a camera man, traveling everywhere from Los Angeles to Tallahassee, to Chicago, to Mesa, Ariz., to New York, says he felt a strange sensation when the results were announced during Tuesday night's finale. He was almost, well, grateful.

Sure, he knew he had drastically improved, but also was keenly aware he wasn’t the best dancer in the show. Not even close. When singer Normani Kordei and dancer Valentin Chmerkovskiy were eliminated, drawing boos from the audience, he stood on stage nervously waiting to see who would be crowned champion. He felt an immediate sense of relief when he heard the names of NFL running back Rashad Jennings and partner Emma Slater.

“I’m standing there thinking," he says, "'Do I really want to win this thing? Do I deserve this? Do I really want to win?’ In sports, the best team wins. And I knew I wasn’t the best dancer. I was getting a lot of votes, and it was such a huge compliment that the fans were voting for me and my personality, but I’m glad Rashad won. He had way better rhythm than I did.’’

Ross laughs, recalling his 8-year-old son Cole’s message to him immediately after the show: “Hey Dad, you didn’t win, but you did really good. You made it to the finals. That’s not the best, but it’s really good.’’

Besides, how can Ross be disappointed when he received a video that night from his wife, Hyla, showing Landri, their 10-year-old daughter, winning the presidential and rising star awards in her fourth-grade class?

“I feel like I can go back,’’ Ross says, “to being normal again.’’

Perhaps, but that re-entry back to his old life could prove to be a bumpier ride than he imagined.

David Ortiz, Ross’ former teammate with the Red Sox who also is spending his first year in retirement, has faded into virtual oblivion compared to Ross’ popularity. He wrote a book, too - Big Papi - was hired to be a Red Sox special assistant, and is currently being featured in a John Hancock Retirement Rookie campaign. Yet, instead of being on the national stage, Ortiz is quite comfortable finally being out of the limelight.

Maybe one day, says Ortiz, who hit 541 home runs to Ross' 106, he can grow up and be as famous as the old backup catcher.

“Man, I’ve never seen my boy dancing before,’’ Ortiz says. “I saw him a few times, and I was impressed to be honest with you. That’s something money can’t buy.’’

And, just in case you’re wondering, Ortiz has no inclination of becoming the second major-league baseball player to be on the dance show. His knees are too bad, Ortiz says. Pick someone else.

Now that Ross has a few spare minutes, he has come up with his perfect successor. The guy who has one of the most charismatic personalities in the game. A guy who’s a better athlete than Ross. A guy who will draw immediate national appeal.

“Torii Hunter,’’ Ross blurted out. “That would be my vote. He just retired. He’s definitely got rhythm. He’s got a great personality. He’s an inspirational guy. He would shine such a positive light on the sport.’’

Only one problem:

“No chance,’’ Hunter shot back in a text. “No chance.’’

Well, Major League Baseball has got nine months to come up with another candidate to cross into mainstream fame. If anyone wants a recommendation, Ross is a phone call away. You’ll still be seeing him plenty. On ESPN. On the book tour. On cereal boxes. On commercials. Who knows, perhaps a managing gig, where many he played with during his 16-year career believes he’ll be a natural.

“I just need to catch my breath now,’’ Ross says. “It’s been so emotional. I feel like I’ve been crying for eight months now with the Cubs, the World Series run, the show, and all of the great things that have happened to me.

“There’s only so much baseball and dancing you can do. I don’t have to be miked up every single day. I won’t always have the cameras on me. I don’t have to do all of the sound bytes.

“I can be just dad again.’’

Follow Nightengale on Twitter and Facebook