Cleveland Indians vs. Boston Red Sox

Cleveland Indians Marlon Byrd gets congrats from Collin Cowgill after Byrd hit a sac fly to score Carlos Santana in the 4th inning against the Boston Red Sox at Progressive Field in Cleveland, Ohio on April 5, 2016.

(Chuck Crow/PD)

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- Marlon Byrd's daughter loves to travel every summer.

She's only 10, but she has toured the country, thanks to her father's profession. Over the last decade, his work has lured his family to Washington D.C., Texas, Chicago, Boston, New York, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Cincinnati and San Francisco. This summer, when school lets out, Byrd's daughter will venture to Cleveland.

Byrd is a baseball nomad. His roots in the professional ranks trace back to Philadelphia, the franchise that drafted him in 1999, the organization that provided him with a renewed vigor and sense of purpose. He figured he would climb through the Phillies' farm system and then flourish for the big league team for 20 years under manager Terry Francona.

Circumstances change, though. One day, you're a young, naive, invincible star in the making, who overcame a leg condition that nearly required amputation, and who couldn't be stopped by anything else that foolishly bothered to step in the way. The next, you're struggling to hit for average or power and you're headed to your next team. And your next. And your next. And your next.

Byrd has played for 10 different major league clubs. He has been traded five times. He has been released, designated for assignment, passed over, forgotten about, ruled out. Yet, here he is, approaching his 39th birthday and still whacking big league pitching.

He envisioned this sort of longevity. He just never could have imagined the path he would take to achieve it.

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'It was a career-ending injury'

Without the self-assurance, Byrd never would have created a career out of baseball. He first felt discomfort late in 1996. Byrd, a sophomore at Georgia Tech, visited Dr. George Cierny in Atlanta. Cierny operated on Byrd's right leg that same day.

Cleveland Indians Marlon Byrd grabs the fly ball hit by the Seattle Mariners Chris Iannetta, 2nd out, 2nd inning at Progressive Field in Cleveland, Ohio on April 19, 2016.

Byrd had an infection in the tibialis anterior, the largest muscle below the knee. The muscle had swelled and cut off blood flow. Cierny considered amputation. Instead, he removed the muscle and eradicated the infection. Byrd could keep his limb, but he had a long process ahead of him.

"[Amputation] was the thought," Byrd said. "It was a career-ending injury. They were doing the surgery for me to walk again and that was it. The surgery they did had gotten people back to walking, but not playing a sport again."

Byrd underwent three procedures, the final one on Jan. 31, 1997. Backed with a short-sighted bravado, he thought he would complete a swift rehab and return to the diamond. After all, he had previously suffered a fractured ankle, a sprained foot and a sprained knee on the football field. None of that stopped him.

Cierny, however, stressed to Byrd's parents that the aim was for Byrd to walk again, not to return to athletic stardom. Byrd's parents opted not to spoil their son's confidence.

"I was young and dumb," Byrd said. "I put it in my head for my goal to be to come back and play college baseball and that was it. [I didn't] really understand the severity of it. I was like, 'Oh, I'll be back.' You lose a muscle in your body, you should assume, as you're older, 'All right, I'm done.' But I had this drive in being young enough and in good enough shape where I could come back."

Reality can be humbling.

'I felt bad for myself for a second'

Cleveland Indians right fielder Marlon Byrd (6) makes a sliding catch on a fly out by Tampa Bay Rays' Hank Conger during the second inning of a baseball game Thursday, April 14, 2016, in St. Petersburg, Fla.

Byrd stands in the Indians' dugout, in front of the steps that lead to the field. He raises his leg for a couple of seconds before his wobbling body begs it back to the ground.

For a year after his final surgery, Byrd dedicated his time to learning how to walk and balance. He used an underwater treadmill, on which he would lift his leg, attempt to turn his foot and then roll it around.

"Every day was tough," Byrd said.

When Byrd had his cast removed, he received a prosthetic to prop up his foot. He tried to play in a pick-up basketball game, but he had no mobility.

"I was terrible," he said. "I felt bad for myself for a second, but after I went to the doctor, he said I had to keep working and get that movement and overcome my rehab and I'd be fine."

The problem was, his inactivity triggered significant weight gain. Byrd ballooned to over 300 pounds, which he attributes to "going from being a student-athlete to just being a student."

"I wasn't doing anything at all," he said. "I wasn't training. I wasn't working out like I did. I started hanging out with everyone, going out to the bars, living the life as a student and the weight gain just shot up."

Byrd lost sight of that bold, fearless mindset that initially had him convinced he would continue his collegiate baseball career after the operations. Finally, he went to the gym. He lost 90 pounds in five months.

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'I'm going to do what all of the Hall of Famers do'

Byrd had never clobbered baseballs like this.

He was always a powerful athlete, blessed with size and packed with strength. But on this day during batting practice in 1999, he was crushing baseballs further than he ever had.

Cleveland Indians Marlon Byrd, during batting practice before the opening day game against the Boston Red Sox at Progressive Field in Cleveland, Ohio on April 5, 2016.

Byrd spent that year at Georgia Perimeter College, his first action on the diamond in more than two years.

"I felt like I was back to where I was," he said, "where I still had that edge, plus the work ethic, plus I'm lifting weights and I dropped all of this weight. I was believing in myself and my legs started to feel better."

The Phillies took notice. They selected him in the 10th round of the draft that summer. Byrd destroyed minor league pitching. In 471 games from 1999-2002, he tallied 202 extra-base hits and 96 stolen bases and he posted a .306 average and a .517 slugging percentage. On Sept. 8, 2002, he made his major-league debut.

That mojo had returned. The vision was clear.

"Right when you get to the big leagues," Byrd said, "you're like, 'I'm going to play 20 years. I'm going to do what all of the Hall of Famers do. I'm going to do all of that."

Reality can be humbling.

After a rookie season in 2003 in which he batted .303 with 28 doubles, Byrd hit just .228 with a .608 OPS in 2004. The following year, the Phillies dealt him to the Washington Nationals.

"Once you get here, the reality sets in," Byrd said. "You realize how tough it is."

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'What are you doing here?'

Byrd stands at his locker, a black bat in his left hand. It's a sleepy Sunday morning. Many players are sitting in black, leather chairs at their respective lockers as they scroll through their phones.

An R&B playlist, heard on the clubhouse sound system, cycles to Aaliyah's "Back and Forth." Byrd starts dancing to the tune, which came out in 1994, when he was a star high school athlete in Marietta, Georgia. The song was released only a few months after Byrd's teammate, shortstop Francisco Lindor, was born.

Cleveland Indians' Marlon Byrd flips his bat away after connecting for a double against the Chicago White Sox during the second inning of a spring training baseball game Monday, March 21, 2016, in Goodyear, Ariz.

Byrd has lasted in the league longer than many others, despite his brush with an amputation, his weight gain and immobility, his early-career struggles, his transient ways, his positive PED test in 2012 for tamoxifen.

He has played for almost as long as he once imagined, though. He just never could have expected the hurdles that would present themselves along the way.

He was an All-Star in 2010 with the Cubs. He racked up 43 doubles with the Rangers in 2009. He has four times socked at least 20 home runs in a season, including 23 last year with the Reds and Giants.

Multiple times during his big league tenure, he has wondered whether his career was closing in on its conclusion. He didn't sign with the Indians until mid-March, after all 30 teams had passed on handing him a guaranteed contract. He arrived in Goodyear, Arizona, for spring training on a minor-league deal, with confidence in his ability and concern that he might pull a hamstring or get plunked and his chance at an Opening Day roster spot -- and, really, his career -- would be swiped from his grasp.

He wanted to finally reunite with Francona, who was dismissed before Byrd reached the majors in Philadelphia. He wanted to give his daughter one more city to check off her list.

Will this be Byrd's final season? He isn't sure, though he wouldn't be surprised if it is.

"When I'm home year round," Byrd said, "[my kids] are going to be like, 'What are you doing here?'"

As he broke onto the scene with the Phillies, Byrd studied the patterns of veteran teammates Jim Thome, Bobby Abreu and Pat Burrell. The trio combined for 52 years in the majors.

Byrd is on year No. 15, just as he thought he would be way back when.

"You realize how hard it is," Byrd said, "and you're just like, 'Man, I just want to play another year. I want to play another year.' It gets to that point where you're always playing for the next year. Now that I'm at the point I am and I've played this long, now I'm playing only for this year. That's it. This could be my last year. I could get another year. You never know.

"To play this long, I've been blessed," he said. "Not many guys have been able to do that."