This summer, those phantoms from Florida were his teammates. They were the guys hitting him grounders in the hole, and the guys trying to strike him out. Too often, they were the guys striking him out.

But Farkes is certain that the summer was about the knowledge, not the numbers, he accumulated. He talks about his new mental approach at the plate and in the field. He sounds confident. He sounds all grown up.

So you have to ask, almost apologetically, because it’s a tough question to answer for so many reasons. Even though last year the same question elicited discomfort and no clear answer, when it’s now obvious that he wanted to go. You have to ask.

Is this it?

Farkes doesn’t flinch. He hardly pauses.

“Right now I know that what I want to do with my life is play professional baseball,” Farkes says. “It’s not going to be the worst thing in the world if I have to come back and play senior year, but ideally I’d like to go play professional baseball.”

He says he wasn’t ready last year. Now he is.

“As long as I’m not a filler player,” Farkes says. “If I get a legitimate chance to go out and play, then I’d jump at it. Because it’s been my dream since I was a kid, and I just hope I get the chance to do it again this year.”

* * *

The next time you see him will be this weekend.

He’ll be in the middle of the lineup and in the middle of an Ivy title run that this time last year he wasn’t planning on being a part of.

* * *

The next time you see him, the sun should be shining.

He’ll wear his red hat pulled low over eye-blackened cheeks and the same No. 3 on his jersey. He’ll have the same sweet swing, and the blond hometown boy might just make more history, one hurried home run trot at a time.

* * *

The next time you see him, it will almost be summer, so watch closely. Because the next time you see Zak Farkes may be the last.

At least in a Harvard uniform.

—Staff writer Lande A. Spottswood can be reached at spottsw@fas.harvard.edu.