Félix Bautista has had this image playing in his brain every day for the past 19 months.

He’s running out of the bullpen. Omar Little’s whistle is blaring over the speakers as he makes his way to the mound. In this vision, Bautista’s arm is healthy, his family is in the stands and he’s striking guys out like he never even missed a game.

It’s a scene that has kept him motivated throughout the long and oftentimes solitary recovery from Tommy John reconstructive elbow surgery. But on Thursday, at long last, it’ll be opening day and Bautista will be on the active roster for the first time since he hurt his elbow on that fateful night in August 2023. On Monday, he’ll make his grand return to Camden Yards for the Orioles’ home opener.

The Mountain, as he is known for his hulking 6-foot-8, 285-pound frame, is back.

“There’s nothing like seeing him go out there in the ninth and striking out two or three guys and seeing the fan reaction to him doing that,” teammate and close friend Yennier Cano said. “It’ll be a beautiful thing to see.”

As he underwent the surgery and recovery, Bautista’s family, living 1,500 miles away, cheered him on. They know how great he can be — they saw it before anyone else did. If they hadn’t, Bautista might not be pitching in the big leagues. Not long ago, Bautista was at rock bottom, depressed and unmotivated after his first run at professional baseball didn’t work out. But his family saw something and, with their urging, Bautista kept playing.

Picking up baseball

If you ask Bautista what he missed the most while he was injured, one of the first things out of his mouth is his teammates. See, if it weren’t for his fear of missing out, Bautista may never have picked up a baseball.

Growing up, Bautista spent his afternoons with his friends on playgrounds, in backyards or on empty plots of land in their neighborhood in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. Sometimes they played real games. Other times they made something up.

But every year, like clockwork, his friends disappeared. They were all enrolled on the local baseball team and no longer had time to play with Bautista.

“I was alone, and I didn’t like being alone,” he said.

When he was 12, he couldn’t take it anymore. Bautista asked his mom if he could join his friends and, after some convincing, she let him.

Bautista had a general understanding of how baseball worked but, because he had never played and was starting years after his teammates, they stuck him in right field, the spot usually designated for the “worst player,” he carefully noted.

It wasn’t long, though, before people started to take notice of his arm, allowing him to ditch those dreaded outfield days. One day, when Bautista was almost 15, his cousin Manuel de la Cruz, who has a training academy, watched him pitch. He dominated the other neighborhood kids.

Cruz knew it was time, that Bautista was too good to be playing in just a recreational league.

“He pulled me to the side and said, ‘You can’t play with these little guys anymore.’ I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ He told me that ‘You’re too good; it’s time for you to take the next step. I want you to follow a program that I’m doing,’” Bautista said. “I was a little sad because it meant I had to leave my friends behind.”

So Bautista took the leap, reluctantly entering a more structured training program. Scouts were always around, keeping tabs on the other players in Cruz’s academy. Soon, they started to pick up on Bautista’s potential.

In 2012, Bautista signed with the Marlins, fulfilling a dream he didn’t know he had until a few years prior. The neighborhood boys — the same ones he had to leave — were thrilled for him.

“Everyone was happy,” Bautista said.

But then he paused.

”At first,” he added.

They cheered during his first season in the Dominican Summer League, able to watch him in person as he pitched to a 2.73 ERA. Success in a second DSL season usually leads to a trip to the United States to begin climbing the minor leagues.

Bautista knew the stakes. But there was nothing he could do to prevent what happened next.

In 2014, Chikungunya, a mosquito-borne virus that causes fever, joint and muscle pain, fatigue and headaches, was spreading throughout the Caribbean. Bautista was one of the unlucky ones infected that summer.

At the time, because there was no vaccine or treatment available, the Marlins had no choice but to send Bautista home to try to stop the spread to other players. Bautista was limited to his bed, weak and helpless as he felt his chances of making it to the next level diminish each day.

He returned after three weeks, even though he wasn’t close to 100%. Looking back now, he knows he rushed himself, but he had a dream to chase and, with the season coming to a close in a few weeks, time was running out. The virus, though, had impacted him even more than he initially thought. He had lost much strength and weight, and it showed in his performance — he gave up 17 runs and walked 20 batters in 12 1/3 innings.

The Marlins didn’t care about his stats from the year prior or the fact that a disease had taken over his body. They released him, sending Bautista back home with no idea what came next.

A second chance

Bautista sat in a black armchair in the Orioles’ spring training facility, stroking his beard as he contemplated a thought that almost became his reality.

What would his life look like if he hadn’t given baseball a second chance?

He doesn’t know. He guesses he may have gone to college, but to study what he couldn’t say. He’s just glad he had the right people around him, because, thanks to them, he never had to figure that out.

After he was released, Bautista thought he may never pick up a baseball again. He was heartbroken, spending his time at his mom’s house doing not much of anything. She tried to motivate him, reminding him of his potential and talent. Cruz kept urging him to go back and train, to give it a second chance.

Bautista wasn’t ready to hear it.

“Obviously, I was depressed,” he said.

Finally, his family had enough of him bumming around the house. Cruz told Bautista in 2015 to get ready — he was taking him to perform in front of Japanese teams. Saying “no” was not an option.

After the tryout, the Hiroshima Toyo Carp of Nippon Professional Baseball approached him. They had an academy in San Pedro de Macorís and wanted him to train there. The academy, much like those of Major League Baseball teams, helps build a pipeline of talent from the region. If he performed well, he could be sent to Japan to join the Carp’s development team or roster there.

With a newfound determination, Bautista devoted his life to his training. His days revolved around running, lifting and throwing, and after six months he was the strongest he had ever been. A growth spurt helped too. He was 6-foot-5 and 180 pounds when he signed with the Marlins but had shot up to 6-foot-8 and over 200 pounds. All of this helped his velocity increase to the upper 90s.

“You know, one would say they kill people with training over there because it’s nonstop,” he said.

The opportunity to go to Japan never came, but major league teams started to express their interest. Cincinnati and the Marlins — yes, the same team that cut him two years prior — were the first to call, but they didn’t offer a guaranteed contract.

In 2016, Ramon Martínez, the former major leaguer and the brother of Hall of Famer Pedro Martínez who was then serving as an adviser to the Orioles, asked him to pitch in front of team personnel.

“I thought to myself: ‘I have to demonstrate what I can do; this is it. I have to go out there and perform and do well,’” Bautista said.

Bautista pitched well that day. The Orioles thought so too, offering him a deal.

The Mountain reigns again

Bautista’s place on the Orioles’ opening day roster this year wasn’t secure during spring training, but not because he hadn’t earned it. The team was being cautious, ramping him up slowly to make sure his elbow responded appropriately. Tommy John is always a gamble, and he knows being overly careful is the best route to take, even if it’s hard to stay patient.

The feeling is different than it was the last time his spot was up in the air. Three years ago, Bautista, then a prospect who struggled with command and flirted between striking out the side and walking an entire lineup, was in his first major league camp after being placed on the 40-man roster that offseason.

It wasn’t an easy road for him to get this chance. After signing with the Orioles in 2016, he spent two more years in the Dominican Summer League — where he threw over 100 mph for the first time — before he was promoted to the Gulf Coast League, which was then the Orioles’ rookie league, in 2018. He started throwing over 100 mph consistently, but he couldn’t command it.

The Orioles didn’t want him to sacrifice any of that velocity, so they had him focus on spin rate, teaching him that if he could maintain the right rate he would start to consistently hit the strike zone.

The results were slow, but finally in 2021, after the COVID pandemic canceled the 2020 minor league season, it clicked for him. He climbed from High-A to Triple-A and entered camp in 2022 confident he was ready for the next step.

One by one that spring, he watched people disappear from the Orioles’ clubhouse at the team’s spring training compound as they were sent to the minors. Finally, at the end of camp, Bautista was called into manager Brandon Hyde’s office.

He was going to Baltimore for opening day, Hyde told him.

After eight minor league seasons and 10 years after he signed his first professional deal, Bautista had finally done it. And the first person he told, was, of course, his mom, who believed he could do it even when Bautista couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed.

“She was yelling, happily,” he said. “Just screaming. That was awesome.”

She wasn’t able to make it to opening day, so she didn’t get to see her son go from a relative unknown to one of the best closers in the game in just a few months. She finally made it to the United States in 2023, watching as he became an All-Star after allowing just five earned runs in 42 innings pitched in the first half.

“I feel like Bautista had confidence from the very beginning,” Hyde said in 2023. “That’s not normal to be on that track and then all of a sudden be pitching in big league games and thinking you should dominate. And I don’t know if he thought that, but he definitely acted like that on the mound.”

He kept cruising in the second half, until the night of Aug. 25, when Bautista, one out shy of earning his 34th save of the season, pointed at his elbow and walked off the mound with a trainer.

Tests revealed their worst fears: He had an ulnar collateral ligament tear, a dreadful diagnosis for a pitcher. He tried conservative measures and attempted to build up for the playoffs, but ultimately surgery became unavoidable. He had the procedure done two days before the Orioles’ were swept by the Rangers in the American League Division Series.

He spent the 2024 season in Sarasota, Florida, away from the team as he underwent the tedious process of getting his elbow used to the rigors of throwing again. He was alone most of the time, filling his evenings with movies to pass the time.

So this spring, as his friends returned to Sarasota for camp, he embraced all the small moments. He played — and dominated — pool and chess. He enjoyed homemade Dominican food with his teammates. And he smiled constantly, enjoying every second of being a healthy baseball player again.

On March 3, Bautista pitched in his first game in a year and a half. He threw 13 pitches, hovering around 96 mph, and ended his outing with a signature hug from catcher Adley Rutschman.

It wasn’t perfect, but he and the team were just grateful he was back.

“I want him to walk off that mound feeling good,” Hyde said before that game. “That’s all I care about. He walks off the mound, he looks like Félix, and I want him to feel great.”

He’s pitched in five games since then, his velocity slowly creeping up. On Sunday, his final tuneup before the regular season, he hit 98 mph. He expects to reach triple digits again in no time.

The Orioles plan to be cautious, not placing all the pressure of closing on him until he’s ready. Right now, he doesn’t care how he’s used — because on Thursday he could be pitching in a major league game again. His mom will be in Toronto, ready to cheer him on as always.

“It was a difficult year, a lot of challenges,” Bautista said. “But I surpassed it. My focus is now to pick up my career where it left off in 2023.”