SURPRISE, Ariz. -- When Michael Wacha got "the call" in 2013 to make his major-league debut for the St. Louis Cardinals, he was rather randomly assigned jersey No. 52.
At the time, he considered the number more whatever-you-want-to-give-me serviceable than sentimental or essential.
Certainly, it didn't resonate like the No. 38 he wore at Pleasant Grove High in Texarkana, Texas, and at Texas A&M. And it was a change from the 22 jersey he had been wearing for the Triple-A Memphis Redbirds when the Cardinals -- led by manager Mike Matheny, clad in 22 -- summoned him to St. Louis that May 2013 night to face the Royals.
Just the same ...
"Got up there as number 52, and it just kind of stuck, really," the first-year Royal said with a smile after a morning workout last week.
And why not?
After all, it wasn't one of those "super-high" spring training digits.
And it promptly became all the more agreeable when he yielded just two hits and one run in seven innings that night against the Royals -- who beat the Cardinals 4-2 in a game that ended at 3:14 a.m. after a rain delay lasting 4 hours, 32 minutes -- and went on to a stellar rookie season that included being named MVP of the National League Championship Series.
If you ever played sports, and maybe even if you didn't, it's easy enough to understand how a number might become entwined with your identity. Like the way Chiefs cornerback Trent McDuffie last season felt about getting back No. 22 in tribute to his late brother: "I feel like me again," he told me in August.
That sense is perhaps all the more pervasive in a game often underscored by superstition spoken into existence.
So over the years, Wacha came to consider 52 "something that I rode with, pitched well with and felt comfortable with."
Call it coincidence, but the only year he wasn't fortified in No. 52 was as No. 45 with the New York Mets (for whom it was occupied by Yoenis Cespedes) during the pandemic-shortened and injury-hampered 2020 season in which he went 1-4 with a career-worst 6.62 ERA.
Back in No. 52 ever since, the 32-year-old Wacha joins the Royals coming off two of the best seasons of his career with a combined 25-6 record and a cumulative ERA of 3.27 with Boston and San Diego.
But securing the number with what suddenly was his sixth team in six years remained to be seen.
Because No. 52 already was spoken for by Daniel Lynch IV, who had worn it at least as far back as Triple A Omaha on the way to his big-league premiere in 2021.
So not long after he signed in December, Wacha tactfully texted Lynch about how attached Lynch may or may not be to the number.
Wacha "just was super-nice about it," Lynch said. "Unsurprisingly, knowing him."
At least knowing him now.
At that point they'd never met, and perhaps this might have been a sensitive or precarious undertaking.
Because these sorts of potential exchanges could go a lot of different ways ... and many tell tales of their own one way or another.
Some don't feel right asking to begin with, as 2017 Chiefs rookie Patrick Mahomes apparently felt about the No. 5 to which he'd been accustomed being held by kicker Cairo Santos; Mahomes instead made his No. 15 iconic.
Some seek to give, like former Royal Danny Duffy, then No. 41, did in 2021 to make way for incoming veteran Carlos Santana while asking nothing for himself: "Oh man, just give me 30 (home runs) and a huge on-base percentage and play his position, be a good teammate," Duffy, who switched to No. 30 to honor the late Yordano Ventura, said at the time.
Some don't want to yield, for any number of reasons, and some seek to negotiate. Many have made tens of thousands in the process in such divergent forms as direct payments, cars, fancy watches, having baby nurseries built or
Former New York Giants punter Jeff Feagles practically made it a cottage industry: According to The New York Times, he wore No. 10 until he surrendered it to then-rookie quarterback Eli Manning in 2004 in exchange for a one-week vacation in Florida. Having switched to No. 17, a year later he sold that to receiver Plaxico Burress for a new outdoor kitchen for his Phoenix home.
In fact, you probably could write a book about all the different sorts of deals made or stymied and gratuities extended, and what the dynamics say about the parties involved.
In this case, the story is that Lynch greatly appreciated Wacha's gentlemanly approach. And vice versa.
If the number really meant something to him, Wacha remembered asking and Lynch remembered reading, then you should definitely keep it and don't think twice about it.
"But it was just the number that I got," Lynch said.
While he had liked it fine, the number that really matters to Lynch is the "IV" he had appended to his jersey last season -- believed to be a first in major-league history -- to honor his father and grandfather.
Plus, as Lynch seeks to gain traction after going 11-23 with a 5.18 ERA in three major-league seasons, he reckoned maybe the switch -- to No. 41 -- could make for "a fresh start" and even a springboard.
So he was happy to yield, also as a welcoming gesture to Wacha, and sought nothing in return.
But Wacha insisted he give him some ideas to repay his graciousness.
So last week, to Lynch's delight, a Fender guitar, valued in the thousands, arrived at their training facility.
It adds to the collection Lynch has at home in Nashville as part of the hobby he's enjoyed since childhood. He even played in a band ("Patents Pending," it was called, since they couldn't think of a name) when he was at the University of Virginia and plays on his own regularly at his spring training apartment.
"It was a nice gesture; I didn't think he needed to do that," said Lynch, smiling and adding, "But he offered."
Much like Wacha seems to be offering himself up more broadly -- part of the reason the Royals wanted him.
He's approachable about everything, Lynch said, and eager to elaborate when asked. He also quickly has made himself one of the guys instead of standing apart, as some in his position might posture themselves to be.
For a number of reasons, you might say, it's a promising fit.