In April, 2014, during a stupidly wintry week of “spring” that snowed-out two consecutive baseball games, I drove down to Buffalo to meet Marcus Stroman. We went to Spot Coffee and talked for an hour about baseball and life and everything in between. About how he got to snowy Buffalo, and the twists and turns along the way. We talked about belief. I wrote a magazine feature from it.

We kept in touch — a text here and there. Then, in May, he was called up to pitch out of the bullpen. He didn’t want to do it and made little secret of it, but your first major league call-up isn’t exactly an invitation you decline. In the end, he was right. He was better as a starter. He went back down to get stretched out again, and then returned to Toronto to run roughshod through the majors.

This spring he looked great. You could see he was more comfortable in the clubhouse, more like himself. He was really alive in that room in a way you didn’t see last year when he was certainly a big personality with fans and the media, but kept mostly to himself within clubhouse walls. A couple weeks ago I went over to his place in Palm Harbor and spent the afternoon with him and Aaron Sanchez for another magazine feature. It went off to the printers the night before his injury.

We talked for a long time while watching ESPN on mute. When a Blue Jays preview came on Stroman rushed to turn up the volume and listen to what his teammates were saying. He was so genuinely excited about this season and what he was going to do. He truly wants to win—and wants to win in Toronto. He absolutely loves the Raptors and was watching when tens of thousands of fans packed Maple Leaf Square outside Air Canada Centre during the playoffs. He dreams of that happening for his team.

“That was so awesome, man—the whole city just buzzin’. Like, that would be so cool,” Stroman told me. “Man, we’re making strides. We’re gonna get there. I honestly believe we’re gonna do it.”

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Trust me, I hate it when pieces start like this. It’s not about me. It’s about a young kid from Long Island on the come up; a kid who’s conquered an awful lot to get here and have that progress stalled in heartbreaking fashion. I’m telling you about my experiences with Marcus Stroman because it’s important that you know he’s a genuine person.

The way Stroman is in front of cameras and on social media can seem very contrived. It’s not. That’s him. He’s unabashedly himself in all situations: courteous with reporters, respectful with management, goofy with teammates, and almost teenage-like with his true friends — of which there is only a select few — who he takes selfies with and raps to and brings along on this crazy ride he’s been on. You can see it on Twitter and Instagram. That’s really him posting that stuff.

So for those reasons, and a whole whack of others, what happened on Tuesday sucks. That’s really the perfect word for it. It sucks for the Blue Jays, a team with practically no margin for error, whose minimal front-line depth will make it next to impossible to internally find 32 starts of a quality similar to Stroman’s. It sucks for the fans, who have been waiting patiently for this team to succeed since the Blue Jays entered win-now mode two off-seasons ago, weathering all manner of ridiculous catastrophe and preposterous misfortune throughout. And it sucks for Marcus Stroman.

People have been telling him he can’t do this for his entire life. He’s too short, he’s too cocky, his fastball’s too flat. The thing about Stroman is he reads everything — every last word, positive and negative. He knows what’s said about him. He’s internalized it and he’s taken every doubt, every criticism, every ounce of negativity sent his way, and shoved it right back in the faces of those who dared underestimate him. This is not to be overwrought or melodramatic in the way sports writers can get at times like these, but very few thought he would be here.

He’s worked unbelievably hard. I’ve seen it. I remember getting to Rogers Centre early in the afternoon on an insanely muggy Tuesday last June, the day after Stroman went eight innings against the Yankees, holding them to a single run and striking out seven — the best start of his career so far. The dome really holds in the humidity on days like that and I was sweating just sitting in the press box, but there was Marcus, wearing shorts and a hoodie, big red headphones over his ears, running up and down the aisles between the seats. No one told him to do that. Blue Jays pitchers aren’t required to run stairs the day after a start. He was out there because he wanted to be. Because the one thing he knows has worked for him so far has been the work itself.

The last thing Marcus would want is for you to feel sorry for him. I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I’m certain he’s found strength from this ordeal, and found a way to compartmentalize the litany of emotions that run through a 23-year-old’s head at a time like this and turn them into something positive. I’m sure he’s already talking about coming back. About how awesome it’s going to be to take the mound 12 months from now.

He’s that kind of guy. He’s so determined, so full of sheer willingness, so confident that if he does things the right way he’ll find success, despite the cloud of negativity and doubt that forever hovers around professional athletes. Despite the kids coming behind him trying to take his job. Despite fortune working in such cruel ways. It must be so damn easy to be cynical and bitter if you’re a professional athlete but Stroman has never once shown me that and I truly admire it about him — because I so often take the other route.

The longer you do this job, the more you realize sports — and the world, really — is just motion. What goes up must come down. Every rise has a fall. Every streak has a slump. Every win has a loss. But there is an exception, in that not every brutal injury has a comeback tale. Sometimes you land the wrong way and that’s it. Sometimes the barking knee or sore elbow is the bullet hole that drains the gas tank. Not everyone gets to triumph.

So, at least he has that, as well as everything else. Marcus Stroman will get his comeback, probably right around this time next year. It’ll be a great story. One of hard work and conviction and talent and revival.

And belief.