Byron Buxton's All-Star Game journey a story of doubt, failure and belief

LOS ANGELES — The Twins game against the White Sox was scoreless in the third inning on Sunday, and Byron Buxton didn't know what was going on. His teammates were telling him to look at the scoreboard.

That's where a surprising announcement was being made to the Target Field crowd — and to the first-time All-Star, too. Mike Trout had dropped out of Tuesday's game, and the AL had chosen Buxton to become the first Twins outfielder to start the All-Star Game since Torii Hunter in 2002.

"I had no idea until it was on the scoreboard. When everyone else heard, that's when I found out about it, too," Buxton said in amazement. "It was kind of strange. You're locked in on the game, and it's hard to be excited, hard to even think about it at the moment. But after the game, I was very touched. My teammates, with their support, made it special, too."

It was just the latest chapter in an All-Star adventure that's been surprisingly emotional for the 28-year-old father of two. Just the news that he had been elected to the team in the first place hit him in the heart.

"I kind of wanted to cry. I couldn't cry because we had a game soon," Buxton said of the Twins' team meeting in Texas on July 10. "It was exciting, but the emotions were kind of inside me. And after the game, they came out more. There are a lot of guys on that team who have been with me for a long time, and they got to see me finally make it. We enjoyed it together."

Luis Arraez never doubted that he would be an All-Star. "He's been telling me that for years," Buxton said with a laugh. But doubts have long stood as obstacles in the way of Buxton's path from tiny Baxley, Ga., to Dodger Stadium on Tuesday.

And that's where the emotion is coming from, said Buxton, who normally prides himself in his professional detachment. There was a time when his doubts led him to listen to every voice but the one inside him. It almost cost him his career.

"When I got to the big leagues, that was the first time I had really failed in baseball. And I didn't know how to take it," Buxton said of his first two seasons, when 34.5% of his at-bats ended in a strikeout. "Pressure was a little bit [overwhelming] — 'listen to the media, listen to the politics, listen to the coaches,' everyone telling me a lot of little things. Once I got over that, once I took control of myself and my career, things changed."

That didn't happen, however, until after the 2018 season, a nightmare of injury and awfulness that convinced him to take action. He missed games due to a fractured big toe, a sprained left wrist and repeated migraines, all while the team floundered to a losing record.

Buxton went home angry — and determined.

"My dad, my parents, helped me get through it. Didn't do too much baseball work. Started playing golf," Buxton recalled. "I finally just decided I've got to be myself.

"I'm too caught up in trying to make people happy. If my career is going to be a failure, I'm going to fail my way."

That's basically when he stopped failing. Buxton has turned in the four best seasons of his career since that revelation, and this season has arrived as one of the game's most dangerous power hitters.

And on Tuesday, as the American League's starting center fielder.

"There's really nothing he can't do on a baseball field. I wouldn't be surprised if he could pitch, if he put his mind to it," Twins manager Rocco Baldelli said. "But he has the demeanor of a confident, veteran player. He doesn't like to call much attention to himself. He likes his privacy. He just cares about being a good husband, father and teammate."

Armed with a contract that guarantees him $100 million over the next seven seasons, Buxton has created a home and a career, both of which he once doubted. That's why, for all his attempts to keep adulation at arm's length, he finds himself enjoying the moment more than he expected.

"It just makes me realize how blessed I am. I'm not somebody who worries anymore about what people think," Buxton said. "But I have to say, this makes me feel pretty good. To see how much it means to everybody.

"And to me."