I called my mom immediately. “Mom, is there something you need to tell me?” I asked, half-joking but half-terrified. She laughed it off, but I could hear the hesitation in her pause. “Don’t be ridiculous, Brady. You’re an only child.”
But the internet didn’t lie. I dug deeper into his stats. He was a pitcher for the Texas Rangers’ organization. I was with the Oakland A’s. We were both chasing the same major league dream, completely unaware of the other’s existence until today.
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The coincidences started piling up like a car wreck. It wasn’t just the name and the face. It was the injury. We had both torn our UCL—the exact same ligament in the elbow—within months of each other.
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And we had both gone to Dr. James Andrews, the most famous orthopedic surgeon in sports. We had walked the same halls, sat in the same waiting rooms, and laid on the same operating tables, missing each other by mere weeks.