We assume that being on the IL is only about physical recovery. The hard work of physical recovery is arduous and some days, a return to health feels entirely out of reach. It’s also not necessarily a linear progression, but very much a two-steps-forward-one-step-back scenario.
There’s a huge mental piece too.
I’m no ballplayer, of course, and not a star, either—but I understand the simmering anxiety of the injured superstar. I’ve been where they are and have been on the IL myself since May 2025. Since my initial ailment, I went down with another and underwent surgery that completely stalled my initial rehab. I’m the Triston Casas of Northeast Seattle.
Though my version of the IL obviously looks a lot different from Trevor Story’s or Triston’s, I’m sure that the most foundational, human parts of it are the same: physical pain of course, persistence, anger, surprises (both good and bad), sadness, victory, and more.
Trevor Story Battles Back
Since Story recently began a rehab assignment in Worcester, let’s look at his situation first. I’m positive he’s been worried about his job; I know this because I worried (and still do) about mine. I went on official medical leave for a while; I’ve had to ask for favors and some grace. My boss has been wonderful but that hasn’t stopped me from being concerned that I was overlooking something. I don’t want people to think I’ve checked out. Sometimes I try to do more so people don’t think I’m doing less. On top of that, several coworkers told me they hadn’t even realized I was gone when I was on medical leave, which felt…awful.
There’s a lot at play here.
Put yourself in Trevor Story’s shoes, under the magnifying glass of a big-market team in a playoff hunt. You’re at home recovering, or more recently, sitting on a bench in Triple-A Worcester watching guys like Nick Sogard an Mickey Gasper hit home runs in the big leagues in your place. Imagine the existential, psychological panic. How do you not think of Wally Pipp?
Pipp led the American League in home runs twice, and won three consecutive American League pennants and a World Series with the Yankees. In June 1925, he was benched for sub-par performance, then permanently lost his starting job to Lou Gehrig, who took the field instead and notched the second game in what would become a streak of 2,130 consecutive games played.
Legend has it that the manager overheard Pipp request two aspirin for a headache and told him to sit it out and feel better. Enter Gehrig and the rest was history. Not true (see The Luckiest Man by Jonathan Eig, one of the best baseball books there is). Pipp himself helped create that legend because he preferred to shake his head over the (imaginary) power of two little aspirin and a lot of bad luck; maybe he found this easier to swallow than admitting his poor play had forced the manager’s hand. Maybe he wanted to go out on his own terms, as the butt of his own aw-shucks joke, becoming part of the Lou Gehrig story, rather than being erased.
Imagine that terrifying realization—that your team might be more fun, more cohesive, or simply better without you. That is definitely the case with the Red Sox without Story. He will never have the 15-win streak, the records, even the trauma-bonding that preceded the highs of this impossible summer. It all happened without him.
Is it any wonder that Story has been publicly pushing to come back, possibly as soon as this weekend?
Injured players aren’t just fighting their own bodies as they try to mold them back into form through PT, macronutrients, and sheer will; they are fighting real demons. It can get pretty dark on this big, beautiful journey [sarcasm font] back to health.
Because the replacement players have so completely raised the bar, the pressure Story has put on himself to perform immediately is probably so thick he could choke on it. And of course, we’re all watching. And waiting. And ready to talk about what he does (or doesn’t) do.
While Story is freaking about potentially being Wally Pipped by any one of Andruw Monasterio, Nick Sogard, or even Anthony Seigler (if we throw Story’s experience at second base into the mix), he’ll be back. His contract practically guarantees it. Trevor Story knows that modern front offices do not care about a feel-good story (no pun intended, though I’m a sucker for a brilliant New York Post-style headline). Craig Breslow is looking at numbers: data, production, salary. In Story’s case, the data (namely the salary) favors the return of the injured star, not the continued journey of the underdog. The front office doesn’t want him (and his big paycheck) to sit on the bench if they can help it.
But think of Tanner Houck.
I strongly identified with Houck when we both went on the IL at more or less the same time. But then we went on our respective journeys and it’s fitting that Dan Secatore just this week called Tanner Houck the “former Red Sox All-Star who has become something of a forgotten man.” That’s what happens when you’re on the shelf for an extended period.
Think of Triston Casas, who is too young and hasn’t played nearly long enough to be where Wally Pipp once was. After his latest setback, you have to wonder if Casas has maybe started to entertain the idea of a career in commercial real estate or something instead of baseball. I don’t say that to be unkind, but that’s the sort of thing that goes through your mind when it feels like you’re watching the world go by. I know a little about this.
I have talked extensively with my therapist about all of this, and I’m absolutely certain any pro athlete on the IL has talked with the team’s sports psychologist. About the frustrations—those pile up. The fear of missing out. About watching everyone else have fun, being carefree, pain-free, med-free. The victories, as tiny as they are sometimes.
There’s certainly no Lou Gehrig waiting in the wings to take Story’s job…simply some lesser-known players who have stepped up in a big way, filled in while he and others were gone, and succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. That must be giving Trevor fits, and I feel for the guy.
We’ll see how this continues to unfold.
