Paul Daugherty

pdaugherty@enquirer.com

GOODYEAR, AZ – He’s playing with house money now. His past speaks plainly for itself. His future is a barrel of choices, all of them good. What’s the worst that could happen to 40-year-old Bronson Arroyo in this Peter Pan spring? The Reds release him? Well, let him explain how that will work out:

“It’s a wide-open world, man. I got nothing to do but spend time with human beings I want to be with and go to places I’ve never seen before.

“If I walk out of this camp, I’ll probably get in my car and drive to California, hang out with some musician friends, maybe write a few songs, then trip on up to Seattle and see some friends, come back across the country and stop at Kevin Millar’s place in Beaumont, TX, and eventually get my car back to Florida, start looking at a bucket list and telling every single human I love to tell me what the hell they want to do before they drop dead. Because that’s what we’re going to do.

“My bucket list is to do what’s on everyone else’s bucket list. I just want to be around and mix it up with humans before we all drop dead.’’

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Before we pause to ponder the joy, gratitude and eloquent wisdom in that statement, let’s understand something: Arroyo would rather put that roadie off for another spring, at least.

He hasmissed two whole seasons, first with a blown elbow in Arizona and next with a torn rotator cuff in Washington. He hasn’t pitched since June 15, 2014, and even that day both his shoulder and elbow were ready for softball. Arroyo has pitched exactly one inning for the Reds this spring, having been sidetracked by an intestinal illness. He doesn’t plan to pitch again for another four or five days.

That sounds like a guy ready for a summer of cold beers and Pearl Jam.

Not so fast.

“Let’s assume I can get up to six innings and my arm is not hurt,’’ he began. “I’m throwing 83 to 85 or 86 (mph), let’s say. I’ve got what I’ve always had. Command. Savvy. Competitiveness. If I have all that, I’m capable of putting up a 14-10 season.

“In Arizona in 2014, I had 14 starts. I was on pace for 200 innings. I was 7-4. I have a torn shoulder the entire time. The (elbow) ligament broke after eight starts, so for six starts I pitched with nothing here (elbow) and this (shoulder) torn. No one else on that team won seven games until August.

“If I can battle at full tilt, whatever that is, I believe I can put in 200 innings and win a substantial amount of games for this team.’’

Dreams are easy and encouraged in March. Arroyo pitched at least 200 innings eight times in nine years. The one time he missed, he pitched 199. He was never a thrower. When your fastball barely breaks a sweat, you don’t have the luxury of throwing. Arroyo was a pitcher the day he pulled on a jersey. Because his flame never was white hot, it’s still capable of smoldering.

“I’ve always had to win with creativity and savvy. Savvy isn’t going to erode,’’ he said.

He has this going for him, too: Nothing to prove. Nothing to keep him sleepless, no reason to do anything but be Bronson. If that’s not good enough, well, his car knows its way west.

“I don’t have to be here,’’ said Arroyo. “If you’re 25, you feel like you have to be here. I don’t have any other aspirations. I’ve fulfilled my life’s work. I’m in a position monetarily where I don’t have to think about’’ money. “I can just go play, whatever that entails.’’

His motivation is familiar to anyone who’s ever lived a sport. Arroyo hasn’t quit because he isn’t convinced he’s ready. He wants the definitive answer, yes or no, so that a year from now, if he’s tossing a ball at the beach with his buddies, he’ll say, “Man, my arm feels good, I could still pitch’’ and genuinely know he’s kidding himself. And that will be OK.

Arroyo could resume being Rubber Arm Man and be a miracle at 40. Or, “I could go out here and throw an inning and it would be the last you’ll ever see of me.

“Guys in this game don’t appreciate until after the fact. I’ve appreciated during the fact,’’ Arroyo said. If he and his arm make it through the month and make the club, Arroyo promises to take nothing for granted. “I’ll grasp it a little harder,’’ he promises. “Touch it and taste it before it’s all gone.’’

Arroyo’s favorite band is Pearl Jam. His favorite Pearl Jam tune is “Alive’’. Eddie Vedder sings it at all of the band’s shows, usually near the end. It’s about survival:

I'm still breathing, I'm still breathing

I'm still breathing, I'm still breathing

I'm alive

I'm alive

The metaphor sits there, as obvious as Arroyo’s curveball. “I’m still alive in the game. I did it all. I won a World Series, I was an All Star,’’ he said. “I got a Gold Glove. I was a helluva teammate. I walk away from here saying there’s nothing I wish I would have done. Everything now is icing.’’

He has a month to define his future. It’ll be fine either way, man. Fine either way.