Jake Mesar rolls up the leg of his pants to show jurors the scar from an injury he suffered sliding into third base years earlier. (Sketch by Mona Edwards)

Excerpt #1 from March 9, 2016 deposition. John A. Suk is questioned by Rubin M. Sinins, attorney for the plaintiff:

Q. You did signal for him to slide to third base, correct?

A. Correct.

Q. OK. What was the reason for that?

A. The proximity of the ball to the runner approaching third base.

Q. OK. Based upon your telling us that there was a play at third base.

A. Correct.

Q. OK. How close was he to third base when you signaled for him to slide?

A. Approximately six feet.

Q. He was running at full speed, correct?

A. Correct.

Q. Giving no indication that he was going to slide, correct?

A. He was running full speed around the bases. He — his eyes were not affixed on the ball. He did not see the ball coming. I did. Therefore, he was running full speed, but upon my decision and telling him at a safe distance to slide, he was able to do so.

Edward M. Coleman, gray-haired and bespectacled, settles into his seat behind the bench in Courtroom 301. He is a retired Superior Court justice who has been called back to ease the heavy caseload, a longtime criminal judge who once presided over one of the biggest cases the state has seen.

That was the manslaughter trial of NBA star Jayson Williams, a two-month legal odyssey that attracted nonstop coverage from Court TV.

This one is a bit different.

When the jurors are seated for the first time, on June 17, there is exactly one person in the gallery: me.

Coleman instructs the jury to keep an open mind during the proceedings, so I resolve to do so as well. That slide, of course, did not end well for the kid, and the story of what happens to him over the days, months and years after he hit the infield clay is awful in every way.

Jake Mesar steps down from the witness stand and, at the instruction of his attorney, rolls up the right pants leg of his tan Dockers. The jurors position themselves for a better look at the two nasty scars on his ankle.

Seven years ago, Mesar was a 15-year-old freshman at Bound Brook High School and the best player on his junior varsity team. He already had made the varsity basketball team that winter, and given his talent and passion for sports, this seemed like the beginning of an athletic career that might go down in school history.

Then came April 4, 2012.

We will hear — in excruciating detail — what the plaintiffs believe Suk did and did not do on that day when Bound Brook played its first game of the season, at Gill St. Bernard’s in Gladstone. Before traveling down that rabbit hole, let’s review the facts not in dispute.

Did the coach sitting with his head down at the defense table really ruin this kid’s life?

The visiting team was leading, 6-0, in the top of the second inning when Mesar, batting for the second time, laced a line drive over the left fielder’s head.

Two runs scored. Mesar rounded second and headed for third. And next, a sickening sound echoed across the diamond as he hit the ground.

“POP!”

As Mesar wailed in agony, Suk (pronounced SOOK) rushed to his side. So did the player’s father, Rob Mesar, who was keeping the scorebook in the dugout. An ambulance arrived. No one knew it then, but that promising freshman — two innings into his high school career — would never play another baseball game.

“I felt bad for my parents,” Jake Mesar, now 22 and attending Rutgers, testifies on the second day of the trial. “They would never be able to see me play.”

Baseball was the least of his worries. Even after three surgeries, the ankle was not improving — one doctor even presented amputation as a possible outcome. A specialist from the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan, Robert Rozbruch, found post-traumatic arthritis and signs of necrosis — evidence the bone was dying.

Mesar needed two more surgeries, including one to inject stem cells into the ankle tissue, and he was fit with an external fixator, a stabilizing frame to keep the bones properly positioned. The injury improved, but Rozbruch told the once-active teenager to avoid high-impact activities. Even jogging.

When it comes time for Rozbruch to testify, he abandons the clinical language of his profession and makes it clear that Mesar’s baseball dreams died on third base that day.

“He will never recover fully,” the doctor says.

It is more than a physical injury. Mesar has endured frequent bouts of depression and a pair of panic attacks, including one that sent him from a family party on Christmas Eve to the emergency room. The injury is, as his lawyer tells the jury, “something he has to live with every minute, every hour, every day of his life.”

All of this, to use a decidedly non-legal word, sucks. How can anyone sit here, listen to his story and not have your heart break?

Still, injuries happen. That is at the cold reality of sports. Did the coach sitting with his head down at the defense table really ruin this kid’s life?