TORONTO — This was not going to be an easy day for J.P. Arencibia.
Back in the majors for the first time in two months after his struggles to hit forced an embarrassing banishment to triple-A; back in the stadium where he began his career and went from team saviour to fan darling to hated villain in the span of three years; back in a clubhouse where he’d started to feel that he didn’t belong; back to the things that tormented him and filled his head with doubt.
It went about as well as he could have hoped — an Arencibia-esque night if there ever was one. Two strikeouts, a trip to first base awarded for taking a pitch to the ribs and a line-drive home run off an R.A. Dickey knuckleball that broke into his barrel.
"Thankfully," Arencibia said, "because on the other ones I swung and missed by a foot."
The homer was as loud as it was predictable, because sometimes, no matter how much it seems to be ruled by randomness, baseball likes to tell a good story. Arencibia had his redemption in the majors; off the pitcher he couldn’t catch on opening day last season in the house that hated him. What could be more appropriate? What more fitting turn could there be in the script?
Even still, it will be hard to find many in Toronto who feel good for Arencibia after the way he spiraled through this town. At first he was everything a fan base should love — affable, courteous, outgoing. He was willing to poke fun at himself in interviews, one of the most interactive Blue Jays on Twitter and he won fans quickly with his willingness to give back time and effort away from the field, whether he was wearing Canadian naval paraphernalia during interviews or gifting tickets to a victim of bullying.
But then his performance sagged to historic lows — had he been given five more plate appearances in 2013 and qualified for the batting title, his .227 OBP would have been the second-worst ever recorded. He became defensive and caustic towards the media. He stopped giving interviews and quit Twitter entirely, running away from the negativity he felt was clouding around him. He hit a lot of home runs — 64 in his three-plus seasons with the team — but he also struck out 400 times on the nose.
Inside his own head, as Arencibia put it, there was a loud speaker blasting at all times, second-guessing his choices, doubting his ability, casting shade on his life.
"I was fighting myself. I was in my own way," Arencibia said. "That was the biggest thing. I had to get out of my own way."
He was waived by the Blue Jays in the winter and landed in Texas, where things haven’t gone much better. Statistically, he’s been the Rangers worst offensive performer, an even more miserable distinction when you consider he plays for the worst team in the majors.
At the time of his demotion to triple-A he was batting .133/.182/.233. He had 15 strikeouts and just 14 total bases. He’d made an out in 83 percent of his plate appearances. The worst player on baseball’s worst team.
So he was sent down. And he was miserable.
"For me, as a man, I’m getting paid by the Texas Rangers — and I’m in triple-A," Arencibia said. "I didn’t feel like I was earning my salary. I wasn’t earning my keeps. That bothered me more than a lot of things down there."
Friday night he came back to face it all. He’s a first baseman now — the eighth Ranger to play that position this season — even though a catcher’s thoughts still run through his head. He was out on his old home turf early in the afternoon, receiving instruction on how to field the position from three members of the Rangers coaching staff, including manager Ron Washington, who was doing his best to work with the player he’d run out of patience for just two months ago.
"The first base part is going to be ongoing," Washington said. "We’re going to work with him and we certainly will get him better. Well, if he wants to work we’ll get him better."
Arencibia certainly sounded reformed Friday afternoon, speaking insightfully and introspectively about his performance in a way he never would have before.
"I 100 percent needed it," Arencibia said of his demotion. "There was a lot of soul searching and realizing that I had to change my mentality. … A lot of my struggles were from doubts."
And he knew there would be boos. He had to. He’s seen it before with Vernon Wells and Marco Scutaro and Lyle Overbay — former Blue Jays who returned to a chorus of vitriol after falling short of fan expectations, whether fair or not. And, sure enough, the boos greeted him every time he name came over the PA.
"I view [the booing] as they cared for me. If I wasn’t cared for and they didn’t do anything, that would be worse," Arencibia said. "I have a lot of great memories here and no one can do anything to take that away."
There’s no doubt that Arencibia lacked self-awareness when he played in Toronto and his feuds with the media were petty at best and vindictive at worst. But those traits aren’t exactly uncommon amongst your typical professional baseball player. Few athletes enjoy the daily media grind and it’s not like Arencibia was going to tell the club to stop giving him starts.
This is what he does for a living and every plate appearance is another opportunity to raise your average or hit a home run and earn a few more dollars on another contract down the road. It’s not always fun to look at the game like that, but it’s a job, and Arencibia showed up to work every day and did his, regardless of performance. John Gibbons kept writing his name on the lineup card and Arencibia kept accepting that assignment, playing baseball as well as his abilities would allow.
Still, he will be forever faulted for how it ended. The fans will boo him every time he comes here and the writers will crack jokes at his expense while Arencibia will just try to block out the noise. The noise in his head; the noise from the stands; the noise from all around him. It’s not like things can get much worse than they’ve already been.
"I’m not here to talk about that stuff," Arencibia said, when asked if he regretted anything from his time in Toronto. "I’m just excited to be back in the major leagues."
And maybe, just maybe, it can be as simple as that.