By Amelia Rayno

In 2000, he was on the Cape, playing third base for the Bourne Braves. Along the upper neck of the peninsula, cast amidst the gusty backdrop of Barnstable County, Kevin Youkilis spent a summer compiling a team best .309 hitting percentage, grinding out 38 hits in 40 games, managing three home runs, and drawing an incredible number of walks.

It was one of many typical seasons for Youkilis, who grew up on the outskirts of Cincinnati and set the school record for walks at the University of Cincinnati with 206. Always consistent with the bat, and unwearyingly disciplined at the plate, the young corner infielder became known for his instinctive ability to get on base. In Michael Lewis’ 2003 book, Moneyball, he was dubbed “Euclis, the Greek God of Walks”, a reputation that preceded him when he was called up the big leagues the next year.

Kevin’s prophetic forecast in the majors rang accurate, if unnoticed. For his first two seasons with the club that had drafted him, the Boston Red Sox, Youkilis flew quietly under the radar, accumulating averages of .260 and .278, and varying between 1st and 3rd, depending on who needed a day off. In 2006, the adaptive utility man also played 18 games in left field, a position he had never occupied, though he did it flawlessly.

By 2007, Youkilis had become known for the patient eye and intelligent perception of the strike zone that forced pitchers to feed him an average of 4.34 pitches per plate appearance during the ’06-’07 season, a number falling short only of Bobby Abreu’s 4.42. He had become a dependable presence. A nearly unfailing pencil-in to 1B on your scorecard. He had endeared himself to us with his woodsman-like goatee and his unswerving approach to the game. He impelled us to whisper about his flawless defense, and induced us to bellow his shortened moniker each time he came up to bat, a deep, rumbling sound that encompassed an entire stadium of people. We knew, late in games, we could rely on his scrappy ability to find a hit and start a rally, or in the very least, avoid an out.

He had faults, sure. Often hot-headed and quick to bark his retorts, Youkilis has told a ump or two what he thought about the call, and there have been cases of some back-and-forth banter between the infielder and the pitcher, though some of that may stem from Youkilis’ inexplicable proclivity to be hit by pitches (15 HBP in 2007). But we accepted those flippantly, because it was part of who he was. We knew him.

Or so we thought.

This year, Youkilis is showing us a different side of himself, one that has knocked us a little off-balance, if it hasn’t completely pummeled the Tigers and Comerica Park. Mr. Patient himself has rapped out six home runs in the last eight games, his eight homers on the season beginning to close in on the top echelon in baseball.

Who is this seemingly morphed power hitter? Call it luck, call it a contract year, or call it a boy growing into a man, but Youkilis has quickly jumped to a more productive start than any of us could have imagined, making fantasy owners everywhere rejoice while still maintaining his ethics of old: forcing long at bats, finding holes, and eeking out walks (he already has 20 on the year).

Whether this newfound power is indicative of a change in the first baseman’s dynamic, or merely a hot start, a favorable trend that will level as the long season takes its toll—it is too early to tell. What we can be certain of, is that regardless to what level his slugging percentage may escalate, he will simultaneously remain the same hitter with which we have grown so comfortable. He will continue to flicker his bat at its oddly cocked height as he stares through the mound. He will continue watch each pitch with uncanny diligence. He will continue to spatter singles across the left and center fields. He will continue to get on base. Perhaps he will continue to hit home runs all the while as well. Perhaps not. But along whatever path his career leads him, Kevin Youkilis will persist in the one distinct inclination that has led him from the streets of Cincinnati, to the fields of the Cape, to the green of Fenway: the ability to find a way.