For the first three weeks, they stretched the arm. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Farkes would trek into Boston before class and meet with Waugh, who would twist and pull the shoulder in every direction to get back the lost range of motion.

Then they had to build back up the muscles, atrophied by lack of use. They started with elastic cords and two-pound weights and slowly increased the intensity. Every time Farkes would push too hard, which he admits was probably often, Waugh would pull him back.

“I got my range of motion back two weeks ahead of schedule, and I got my strength back about a month and a half ahead of schedule,” Farkes says. “So I was on the fast track and had to keep slowing myself down. Which was really tough, especially with practice about a month and a half away.”

During the dead season between fall and spring practices, players work out and hit on their own. Last year, Farkes probably took more cuts in the batting cages than anyone, but this year he’d get the emails to the team list—“Hey, I’m going down to Palmer-Dixon to hit, anyone want to come?”—and wince.

“I just wanted to get in it so much,” Farkes says. “I even would swing a little bit on my own, just one-hand swings you know? But I was just trying to do everything I could to avoid a setback.”

He swung for the first time on Dec. 9. He threw for the first time on Dec. 16. And yes, those are the exact dates.

Farkes knows because he had them marked on his calendar in late September, and anticipated them like a prisoner waiting to be released from the state pen.

Waugh called up the Phillies trainer who had worked with Curt Schilling after his labrum surgery, and put Farkes on the same throwing plan. He started lobbing. Then tossing from 45 feet. Then 60. They kept going in painfully slow 15-foot increments until he was long tossing.

Through it all, Farkes was logging lots of time in the weight room. He started lifting his arms about six weeks after getting the sling off.

His legs?

“If it wasn’t [when the sling was on], it was close,” Farkes sheepishly admits.

Somewhere, Scott Waugh winces, and his teammates smile.

“I love to watch him play,” Mann says. “He lives baseball. It just oozes out of his pores.”

Zak Farkes is back.

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