CINCINNATI -- "I've got some serious momentum here."
Andrew McCutchen was referring to this little roll he's experiencing as a member of the Pirates, being that, in his final at-bat of the 2017 season, on the first of October in Washington, he doubled to deep left-center off the Nationals' Gio Gonzalez ... and then reached base his first four times up in the 5-4 season-opening victory over the Reds on this Thursday at Great American Ball Park.
"Five in a row?" he'd keep it going within our one-on-one chat afterward. "Come on now."
Never mind the five full years in between. Classic Cutch.
I've been blessed to cover the man's entire Pittsburgh career, from the amusingly disappointed 18-year-old who stormed out of the clubhouse in Bradenton, Fla., upon being legit surprised to be a spring cut right out of high school -- "Hey, I had a really good spring," he'd remind when I brought that up with him in Florida a few weeks ago -- to his being the undisputed conductor of the Blackout game and any related playoff fare that poor PNC Park's ever seen, and now to this, a return that has no rival in franchise history. As such, I spent as much time with him as possible over these past 48 hours.
Look, there's nothing about the player or person I could share now that any fan of his or the team wouldn't already know. I'm not going to try.
But I do feel compelled to share the following: He's still Cutch.
Early in spring training, when he was still matching names with numbers, still learning how Derek Shelton and his coaching staff conducted business, still fielding media interview after media interview about the same subject, I sensed some nervousness. Even an apprehension of sorts related to the near-reverence with which he was experiencing after half a decade of being just another popular player in the lineup in San Francisco, New York, Philadelphia and Milwaukee. I was out there. I heard fans of the Brewers cheer for him no differently than they did for Rowdy Tellez. But now, he was at Pirate City, where all those framed Sports Illustrated covers of him from 2013 were still adorning the prospects' game room. Where Termarr Johnson, the organization's most recent draft pick, was headed toward the same gate as Cutch following a batting practice, only to back off as if royalty were approaching.
But he got to know the players. Humanized himself first in their eyes, then got to know them. Genuinely befriended a few, notably Ke'Bryan Hayes and Canaan Smith-Njigba.
"It was a transition, for sure," he'd tell me of the past six weeks in Bradenton. "But at the end of the day, it's just baseball. And we're all Pirates. We all have that in common."
Now there's this, being here for the real thing. And the signs of his assimilation were everywhere:
PIRATES
Andrew McCutchen and Ke'Bryan Hayes at Great American Ball Park.
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Carlos Santana and Andrew McCutchen.
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Austin Hedges and Andrew McCutchen.
All of what's above was part of the team's workout here Wednesday. Every which way he went, there was engagement. Only now it's effortless. He's just Cutch now, just like he was Cutch back then to a wholly different group. For sure, he seemed more at ease.
Then came the morning of the opener. This was different. We spoke about what was to come, not only on this day but also eight days away back home. I brought up how Greg Brown's annual introduction of the players won't even be heard once Cutch's foot touches the first of the dugout steps. (For the record, Brown told me he expects that'll actually begin to occur during the introduction of the previous player.) Cutch's response was to widen his eyes. I brought up other athletes I've covered who've returned to the Pirates, Steelers or Penguins over the years and how they'd embrace being back in an environment where they were expected to perform at the same high level as their initial time. Cutch's response was that he'd love that, too, that "I want people to see me as the player I've always been."
But it was easy to see he was unsettled. Killing the clock till the first pitch.
So that he could walk three times, then drill this single into center in the sixth that'd advance Oneil Cruz across the diamond:
So that he could just be a ballplayer, not a former MVP, not a franchise treasure, not anyone's rock star.
And oh, my, was there ever a difference in demeanor once it was done:
Notice Cruz nose-diving over my shoulder to playfully interrupt up there?
He'd never have tried that in February, believe me. That kid was as starstruck by Cutch as anyone.
"It was good, man. It was a good, good first day for me," Cutch would begin once Cruz headed for the showers. "I mean, being able to be back, to have all the emotions of, you know, putting this on again."
He gestured toward the uniform.
"Being back out there, I was playing the game that I love to play, that I know how to play. You still get those first-day nerves."
I shared that I'd detected this.
"Yeah, but this is different. It's ... it's a different type of nerves. And I know that's all because, you know, I'm supposed to be here."
