ARLINGTON, TEXAS—A Blue Jays clubhouse without Devon Travis loses a huge chunk of its sunny ways.

Both teammates and reporters feel the absence of Toronto’s most amiable and, until his latest detour to the disabled list, most impactful player.

“You couldn’t ask for a greater kid,” John Gibbons says of the 26-year-old second baseman, sounding more like a father than a manager.

Cascading effects from the multi-tool fireplug — built like a fire hydrant — have become increasingly evident in the Blue Jays often lethargic lineup, which Gibbons radically shook out on Wednesday.

When a tearful Travis departed the fray at the start of Toronto’s west coast swing early this month, he left as the hottest Jay extant and in no small measure sparking the team’s resurgent turnabout from a horrific April. He led the majors with 16 doubles in May while riding a 13-game hitting streak, with a slash line of .364/.373/.646 on the month, production that has not been picked up by replacements off the bench. He was hitting .259 with five home runs and 24 RBIs in 50 games.

While Travis originally was worried about a hand he banged up sliding in his last game on June 4, it was his right knee that proved the pernicious culprit, locking up on the flight to Oakland, leaving him unable to bend the swollen joint the next morning. The diagnosis: a bone bruise on the inside of the patella. He was back under the knife last week, primarily to scrape out tatty cartilage. Travis similarly had a flap of vexing cartilage removed in the off-season, same hinge, different spot. Rehab cost him most of spring training and, consequently, with only 13 at-bats in Grapefruit League games, a sluggish start to the 2017 season.

And now, Travis is again in Florida, plunged into the grind of methodical, laborious recovery, watching his team from afar.

“I’ve definitely been tested early on in my career,” he said when the Star caught up with him. “But I’m a believer that everything happens for a reason.”

He just can’t imagine what that might be, the existential reason for a slew of injuries, common and exotic (that freaky additional bone in his shoulder that required stabilizing), forcing long bump-outs from the roster in each of the past three years.

Such a snake-bit young man, his genial and endlessly polite nature sorely tested by fate.

“I try to focus on all the great things that have happened in my life. I mean, just making it to the big leagues is still so surreal for me. And I don’t want to allow dejection to take over. But, yeah, there’s borderline depression at this point.”

He wants to make one thing absolutely clear: He can deal with pain. He can, and has, played through hurts.

Yet he knows that “fragile” is becoming appended to his name. That hurts even more.

“Growing up, I never had any injuries except for the usual stuff for a kid, bumps and bruises, falling out of a tree. I didn’t suffer my first baseball injury until college.” (Hamate bone, common in baseball.)

But up here, in The Show, it’s been one damn thing after another — career interruptus. More exasperating to Travis than his manager, his teammates, his fans.

He’s even asked medical authorities: Is there something wrong with me?

Nothing that can be identified.

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Plenty of bad luck. And maybe, as Travis is beginning to conclude, playing the game with, perhaps, too much abandonment.

“That’s who I am. I run hard to first on pop-ups. I always look to turn a single into a double. I always go hard. But maybe that could be catching up to me now. Maybe I need to back off the throttle.”

That’s frustration talking, no doubt. Because Travis taking an edge off wouldn’t be Travis. And he doesn’t sound as if he’s convinced himself either.

“Ah man, another mountain to climb. It feels like there’s not a mountain I haven’t climbed already.’’

Post-surgery, Travis takes heart that the knee — he’s already off crutches — feels better than it did after last time under the scalpel. “The surgery wasn’t so bad. I know I’m going to come back from this one sooner. At first, sure, I was just so depressed — what, again? Up the mountain again? But you have no choice, really. You either lie down, feel bad for yourself, or you strap it on. I need to take on whatever is in front of me.”

Travis can’t quick-step rehab. But he’s absolutely certain (though no one has given him a timeline) that he’ll back in the saddle for a playoff push, late August and September.

At his home now in Florida, Travis will return to Toronto after the team concludes this road trip. Just being around the guys will help. And having him around will uplift that clubhouse.

He’s taken comfort from the phone calls and texts his teammates have been sending, leaning most heavily on close pals such as Marco Estrada, Darwin Barney and Ryan Goins. “It seems like every single guy has reached out to me. Just knowing that they’re thinking of me, it’s a good feeling. It’s filled a void.”

And, while Travis doesn’t wear his beliefs on his sleeve, he is a man of faith. “I pray every single day.” He laughs. “Though it seems kind of strange to be praying for a comeback.

“I know one thing: Whoever’s up there is definitely making a warrior out of me.”

Correction – June 22, 2017: This article was edited from a previous version that transposed Darwin Barney’s first and last names.

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