McAdam: Healthy again, Eduardo Nunez re-discovers his joy for the game

FORT MYERS, Fla. -- It usually doesn't take long to determine if Eduardo Nunez is in the Red Sox clubhouse.

Gregarious by nature and fun-loving, Nunez's high-pitch cackle can often be heard above the din as players prepare for games or engage in spirited card games or conversations with one another.

But last year, it became harder for Nunez to enjoy himself. A lingering right knee injury from the previous year had healed enough to pass muster with the Red Sox, who signed him to a unique deal in spring training, but not enough, it turned out, for him to be himself on the field.

And so, as sheepish as it may now feel for him to reveal, there were days when the infielder reported to the ballpark with a sense of dread. As a career utility player unaccustomed to everyday status, the chance to play nearly every day should have been welcomed.

Not last year, however. Not with his knee aching, his plate approach compromised and his defensive range all but eliminated.

Playing? Ugh.

"It got to the point,'' said Nunez, "that sometimes I would come to the field and I saw my name (in the lineup) and I was like, '(expletive) - I have to play today.' It was that bad. Some days, Alex (Cora) would ask me, 'Do you want a day off?' And I would tell him, 'Yes, I need a day off for my knee.' With the (early season) weather, a lot of games,  I didn't even feel like I could run.

"It was hard to perform at a high level, especially on this team. There's a lot of good players and they were healthy. And to play at 40 percent, I couldn't compare myself to them. But we had good communication and good relationships, and they picked me up a lot last year.''

There were times last year when Nunez faced two options, neither of them appealing: he could play at a greatly reduced level, or he could beg out of the lineup. Neither was easy to accept.

"It was really tough,'' confirmed Nunez. "At some point, I wanted to tell the trainers, 'Send me to the DL; I can't do it anymore.' But I told myself, 'Keep playing, you can handle it. Wait for (Dustin) Pedroia (to be activated).' That was in my mind. I was waiting for him. I figured when he came back, I could to go to the DL for two or three weeks. But he came back, and he was here for two days.''

At this, Nunez's laughs heartily at the absurdity of all. Here he was, hoping that Pedroia was coming to the rescue and that his return would allow Nunez the time to properly rest and strengthen the knee without absorbing the day-to-day punishment that came with playing games.

But Nunez put his faith in the wrong player. In Pedroia, he found the one player in the organization whose knee was worse than his own. After playing three games, Pedroia went back on the DL on the first weekend of June and didn't play again for the entire season.

And so, Nunez gamely played on. Second base was never his strongest position to begin with, but with Pedroia absent, it was the Red Sox' position of need.

"Defensively, I was so limited,'' he said. "I'd take that first step to a ground ball and I couldn't even try to dive, because I knew if I tried to dive, I couldn't get up. I would just have to pass and it hurt myself and it hurt the pitcher.''

At the plate, it was no better. Without a strong base in the batter's box, Nunez was incapable of handling any pitches in the lower half, or anything inside.

"A slider finishes inside,'' he said. "The sinker finishes inside. The changeup finishes inside. And any low pitch, I was barely able to swing because I couldn't bend down with my knee. Every at-bat, I'd see three or four pitches down in the zone. I think they knew I was going to hit the ball on the ground, and soft.''

Instead, Nunez had to rely totally on his upper half, as though his feet were planted in cement rather than the batter's box. He could produce no torque with his lower half and had to utilize only his hands to generate bat speed. Result? Lots of weakly hit ground balls.

Gone was any notion of driving the ball into the gaps. In 2017, splitting time between the San Francisco Giants and the Red Sox, Nunez produced a slugging percentage of .466; in essentially the same number of at-bats last year, Nunez slugged just .388.

Occasionally, he would manage to forget the knee and step up with a big at-bat. But mostly, the season was about survival.

"For six months, it's hard to play like that,''  he said.

The only consolation was that the team was winning at a record-setting clip.

But for Nunez, it was a long, arduous process. He would report to the ballpark at 1 p.m. for a 7 p.m. start and immediately begin 90-minute treatment on the knee. Then, there would be some work in the weight room to attempt to strengthen the muscles around the strained ligament in his right knee. Then, after batting practice, there was more treatment.

By game-time, Nunez was frequently exhausted.

Nunez's efforts to get on the field didn't go unnoticed in the Red Sox clubhouse. His teammates expressed profound respect for his willingness to do all he did just to get on the field.

"They would say, 'We know what you're going through and we have your back,' '' said Nunez.

For a brief window in late August, Nunez seemed to be healthier. The knee had grown stronger and he could again drive the ball at the plate. He homered three times in the span of five games. But not long after, he rolled his ankle, creating another nagging injury with which to deal.

Still, Nunez soldiered on. Things reached an almost comical state in Game 3 of the World Series in Dodger Stadium. Nunez wasn't in the starting lineup, but pinch-hit mid-game for third baseman Rafael Devers. As the marathon game wore on, Nunez's knee and ankle worsened to the point where he could almost literally not stay on his feet.

A series of pratfalls -- in the batter's box, behind the mound, in foul territory, on the bases -- had him stumbling around awkwardly like some baseball version of Buster Keaton. At one point, the absurdity became such that, as Cora came out to check on him, prone on the Dodger Stadium infield, Nunez begged for reinforcements.

"I told Alex, 'Let me just hang out in the dugout (during the rest of the inning) and see how my ankle reacts,'" recalled Nunez. "And he told me, 'We don't have any more players - you have to play.' I was in the dirt, at third base, laughing. I said, 'Are you kidding me? I was like, (expletive).'  I felt so bad and I was in so much pain, that I wanted to come out of the game. And he told me I couldn't.

"I kept falling down, falling down, falling down again. I felt embarrassed at some point.''

The longest game in World Series history was longer for Nunez than for anyone else.

After the postseason, Nunez finally had time to rest and rehab the knee. This spring, for a change, baseball isn't something to be endured.

"I can enjoy everything that I do here now,'' said Nunez. "Last year, I didn't enjoy anything. I was worried about everything -- running, hitting, catching, everything. Right now, I just do my thing and enjoy it. I don't have to force anything. I can work on my swing, I can work on my timing, I can work on my pre-pitch -- whatever I want to do. It's fun to be here.''

Nunez has his pride. He could poke fun of himself last year -- he famously watched deadline trade acquisition Ian Kinsler make a sparkling play in the infield in his first game with the Sox and proclaimed to his teammates: "Finally, we've got a second baseman!'' -- but the season was a challenge.

He can't wait to remind everyone what he's capable of on the field.

"For sure,'' he said. "I want to eliminate what people have in their mind about me. Last year, they'd see a play and think, 'Oh my God -- if Pedroia was here, he'd make that play.' They forgot I couldn't move. They forgot I couldn't even dive.' They thought I was lazy. But I couldn't say anything.''

Now, he has nothing for which to apologize. He is, again, himself, with things to prove.

"I can't wait,'' he said of the anticipation he feels as the season approaches. "I'm so excited. I want to show my staff, Alex, what I can do. They haven't seen it yet. I can't wait to show them. They know what I can do, but they haven't seen it yet.

"I want to personally show them what I can do.''