Through recent off-seasons, R.A. Dickey has climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, journeyed through the slums of Bombay, campaigned against sex trafficking, and audited university philosophy courses.
This year, he read children’s books and slept.
After a disappointing end to the ALCS last fall, Dickey underwent knee surgery and followed up with a strict rehab and training regime that helped him shed 12 lb. He also took it easy for the first time in a while.
“Rehab, and four kids 14 and under—it exhausts you. It’s a good exhaustion, but it doesn’t leave much time for other things. Literally, I’ll read a page or two of a magazine at night, or a book, and I’m out like…,” Dickey says, snapping his fingers. “I’m in bed by 8:00 and I’m up by 6:30. I feel like I’m a grandfather in the off-season.”
Normally a voracious reader, this year Dickey mostly took time to read books with his kids. A Wrinkle in Time, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Invention of Hugo Cabret. It was a lighter load than the tomes he is used to. (He also caught a stage production of Alice in Wonderland, in which his daughters, 14 and 12, were a pair of playing cards in the ensemble at their school. Otherwise, he stayed away from the theatre.) The only book Dickey picked up for his own enjoyment was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Even that was just a tune-up. He’d read it before. “He takes a roadtrip,” Dickey explains. ‘There’s a bunch of metaphors in it.”
Metaphors, of course, are Dickey’s specialty. He’s made a career out of throwing them around. But this year, he seems more at peace with the existential quandary that he holds in his hand. He’s relaxed. He’s confident. He’s at home with the team and the city that has adopted him.
Back in 2012, Dickey’s locker in the New York Mets clubhouse was piled with letters sent by fans from across the continent. He was the sports story of the year, a career journeyman who reinvented himself as a knuckleball pitcher en route to a Cy Young award at 37 years-old. He was a marquee acquisition for Toronto later that year, part of a series of bold moves that appeared to be a much-needed turning point for a middling franchise. A television crew met him the moment he arrived at the airport and chronicled every move he made during his first day as a Blue Jay.
“One of the things that was really difficult coming off the Cy Young year was the expectation that if I didn’t win two or three more of these then it’s all a failure,” he says. “I felt that, for sure. I wanted to live up to it.”
But three seasons and one ALCS appearance later, Dickey is no longer the center of attention. Far from it. There are no boxes of letters next to his locker. There are no TV crews following him anywhere. Fans are now used to the mercurial nature of the pitch he throws. The novelty has worn away. Shiny young stars like Marcus Stroman and Aaron Sanchez headline the rotation, and—along with Jose Bautista—hope is heaped on all-stars like Josh Donaldson, Troy Tulowitzki, and Russell Martin. And Dickey couldn’t be happier.
Although today some Jays fans cringe as Noah Syndergaard—one the prospects exchanged for Dickey—emerges as a Norse god in the Mets rotation. But since he arrived in Toronto, Dickey has been exactly what the Blue Jays needed him to be: a reliable starter, who devours innings (more than 200 for the past five seasons).
“I don’t think I put as much pressure on myself as I did when I first got here,” Dickey says. “I’m much more comfortable now, here, than I’ve ever been.
“I’ve just become more a part of the fabric of the city. I’m much more comfortable being in the background than things being about me,” he says. “I try to get lost, and that’s what I’ve been able to do for the past few years.”
Whether it’s taking in a concert by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, checking out a new exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum, or just relaxing by the waterfront with his family near his home in Mississauga, Dickey has quietly ingrained himself into the GTA. And last fall, he fully felt the passion of long-suffering fans as the Rogers Centre hosted post-season baseball for the first time in more than two decades.
“It having occurred in Toronto had more of a impact that it would have in any other city. Just because they had waited so long. They remembered what it was like, or probably heard stories, or went to the games with their dads—and here we were,” Dickey says. “The place was just a zoo. It was unbelievable. I have never been in a stadium that has gotten that loud, ever.”
In what could likely be his final season in blue and white, Dickey hopes for one more chance to feel the city rumble.
“I think there’s a certain confidence that comes with feeling good,” he says. “I don’t know if I’m necessarily at my peak now, but I’m certainly closer to it than I’ve been in the past.”