KANSAS CITY, Mo. _ Three weeks into his first Royals spring training camp, Danny Duffy spent an early morning shagging fly balls, carrying equipment to the bullpen and fulfilling other rookie obligations.
Anything to get out of the clubhouse.
A group of veterans on the team's pitching staff had been treating his locker as a garbage can, wrapping food in aluminum foil and stuffing it into his bag. With daily stunts stretching beyond typical rookie hazing, the group of five targeted Duffy, a fast-rising pitching prospect on the verge of taking their jobs. They told him to shut up when he spoke. They called him stuck-up when he ignored them.
Duffy had grown to dread coming to the ballpark, anxious for what might await him.
"I went in with the mindset that I was going to make some new friends," he says. "And I left with the mindset that I didn't have any."
For years, Duffy had suffered from anxiety. He never felt like he quite fit in. In high school, baseball helped bridge that gap, though not entirely _ even as he emerged as a star in Lompoc, Calif., he usually felt more comfortable on his own than with teammates.
But approaching his first spring training in early 2010, Duffy told his parents he'd never been more excited. At 21 years old, he didn't expect to make the team, but this would be his first taste of Major League Baseball, a chance to meet some of his idols.
Within three days, however, he felt mentally broken. Teammates needled his every move. His every word. Each night, during hours-long phone conversations with his mother, Duffy told her he wasn't cut out for this. He wanted to come home.
On this particular day, he had hurried to the park in Surprise, Ariz., before 6 a.m., hoping to dress and take the field before the veteran pitchers arrived. And he had successfully done so. But when he returned to his locker afterward, his clothes were covered in red splatter.
Someone had doused his T-shirt with ketchup.
He hadn't packed an extra set of clothes, leaving him no alternative but to pull the soiled shirt over his head before walking alone back to the team hotel.
A few days later, Duffy, who was named the Royals' Class A pitcher of the year in his first full season and later represented the team in the All-Star Futures Game, would walk into the office of general manager Dayton Moore.
"I'm out, bro," he said. "This ain't for me."
