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The first thing you notice about Gerrit Cole is the size of his hands—large enough that they resemble Virginia hams when balled up. Everything about Cole suggests he's an old-school bruiser, not tapered and chiseled like, say, Giancarlo Stanton or a CrossFitter like Noah Syndergaard. And unlike the New York Mets right-hander, Cole hasn't nicknamed himself after an action-hero Norse god.

If anything, Cole is more like the Marlboro Man, a billboard of gimmick-free confidence.

He's supposed to end the New York Yankees' 11-year championship drought, and that was even before a run of spring training injuries that have left the Bombers without James Paxton and Luis Severino, two front-line starters. But Cole isn't fazed. When he says, "I'm ready for all of it," he means the weight of that nine-year, $324 million contact, an impatient fan base and the phalanx of reporters who'll follow him around all summer.

Lesser personalities have felt boxed in by the surroundings. Randy Johnson was already on his way to the Hall of Fame when he arrived in 2005, but he was so freaked by the hyper-focus that he face-palmed a New York Post photographer moments before his first press conference.

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The Big Unit ended up winning 34 games in two seasons but never felt at ease with the Yankees—sullen and withdrawn from the outset, counting the days until he could escape the noise. Cole, on the other hand, has been waiting for his Big Apple introduction seemingly his entire life.

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"When I tried this on for the first time, I have to admit it was pretty cool," Cole said recently to Bleacher Report, gesturing to the interlocking "NY" on a home Yankees jersey. "They were taking photos [for the team yearbook and game-day program], and I'm thinking, 'This feels right at home.'"

The story of Cole's long journey to the Bronx has been told many times: The Yankees started targeting him as a high school senior in 2008, making him their first-round draft pick. But Cole had already committed to UCLA and wasn't about to turn his back on the Bruins.

The Yankees were disappointed but not angry. In fact, their admiration for the young Cole only grew.

"Gerrit basically said, 'I'm going to bet on myself for the future,'" said general manager Brian Cashman to B/R. It takes a special person to be that sure. Fast forward to a Yankee Stadium press conference in December and Cole was holding the winning lottery ticket: the richest contract in Yankees history.

He'd successfully leveraged the Bombers' need to get to the next level after falling short in October for four straight years. Cole instantly turned the Yankees into the odds-on favorites to win the American League pennant. He was equally responsible for the shifting of another set of tectonic plates. He forced Hal Steinbrenner, who'd been accused by angry ticket buyers of being a cheapskate, into channeling his big-spending father.

That $324 million payday, so plush that not even the Los Angeles Dodgers dared to make a counter-offer, was the work of George Steinbrenner's ghost. The old Boss, hovering over River Avenue, whispered in his son's ear that Cole had to be a Yankee, no matter what.

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Cole did his part that day, saying, "It's always been my dream to be a Yankee." He was already off to a better start than Johnson. But the Steinbrenner family is paying for more than positive sound bites on the YES Network. It even goes beyond the 20-win campaigns that should be a lock for Cole as he begins his age-29 season.

Of course, there's no guarantee Cole will be throwing in the upper 90s as he gets closer to his 40th birthday. Pitchers' long-term contracts inevitably cough and wheeze their way to the finish line. But if anyone has a chance to fight Mother Nature to a draw, it's Cole.

His devotion to analytics means there's a possible avenue to maintaining arm speed and spin rate down the road. In fact, the biggest breakthrough of Cole's career was realizing how much more explosive his fastball was at chest level and above.

Upon acquiring him in 2018, the Houston Astros used computer simulations to prove to Cole he was doing hitters a favor by over-focusing on lower-half strikes. So while much has been written about Cole learning to spin the seams faster, he said, "It was really just a matter of working up instead of down."

Today, cutting-edge technology dictates virtually every aspect of Cole's delivery. It'd be a mistake to assume he'll hit a wall at, say, 35 or 36. Cole's future self could be just as dangerous as he is in 2020.

Cole is supposed to make the Yankees feel invulnerable, the way Reggie Jackson did when he signed with the Bombers as a free agent in November 1976. It's no coincidence that the Bombers, who were swept by the Cincinnati Reds in the 1976 World Series, proceeded to win back-to-back championships with Reggie in Pinstripes.

Now it's Cole's turn to work magic.

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"Gerrit definitely has the personality that says, 'Put it on me,'" said Ron Guidry, a teammate of Reggie's during that two-year mini-dynasty. "He's going to help the other pitchers. They're going to look to him—and I mean look up to him."

But Cole relies on a different leadership style than his appearance might suggest. He doesn't have Reggie's ego or Johnson's smoldering anger or Roger Clemens' John Wayne tough-guy persona. For someone so physically imposing, Cole is actually a techie at heart—just as well-versed in spin-rate analysis as he is one-on-one warfare with opposing hitters.

That's the beautiful dichotomy Cole presents. He grunts upon release of the ball—you can hear him from the dugout—but after every inning, he'll huddle with catcher Gary Sanchez to review the last three outs, pitch by pitch.

"Gerrit's stuff is amazing, which by itself makes him a leader," said Paxton. "But it's his intensity that sets him apart. He's always studying so that when he's on the mound, you know he's already prepared. You know he's in charge. He makes you feel that."

Cole admits nothing animates him more than a symposium about pitching. Having learned that a New York reporter had pitched in high school and college and was still playing in a semi-pro league, Cole was curious enough to query even the amateur about his cutter: How did he grip it?

Severino, whose locker was adjacent to Cole's, watched in amusement. "Gerrit likes to teach. It feels like he's always had a lot of coffee. A lot of energy, man."

Cole isn't just a fan of advanced analytics; he's also a baseball historian. He models his delivery after Clemens ("I love the way he stood tall and came right at hitters"), Greg Maddux ("loved his efficiency") and Pedro Martinez ("great torque").

The cumulative effect has been devastating to opponents. Half-man, half-rocket launcher, Cole has the velocity (and guts) to throw four-seamers high in the strike zone. He forces hitters to pick a quadrant to defend—like a soccer goalie deciding which side of the net to protect on a penalty kick.

More often than not, hitters guess wrong. According to Fangraphs, the swing-and-miss rate against Cole in 2019 was 50 percent higher than against an average pitcher.

That's what the Yankees are hoping for in April and May as they await Paxton's and Domingo German's respective returns to the rotation. They need Cole to take charge—not just be the guy who takes the ball on Opening Day against the Orioles in Baltimore on March 26, but also to be The Man for 2020 and beyond.

The Yankees can't afford starts like the one Cole had on Mar. 5, during which he allowed six hits and six runs over just two innings against the Detroit Tigers.

Cole is too modest to articulate his role as a powerbroker—"We have an All-Star squad as it is; I can just blend in"—but the Yankees don't have to worry about him running away from that mandate.

"I hold myself to a pretty high standard," Cole said, smiling but definitely not kidding.