In his rational brain, Cubs lefty Justin Steele, who hasn’t pitched in a game in over 14 months, understands that what should have been the prime of his career might continue to slip away from him.
“I can do my best to take care of my body, put myself in the best positions possible, work my tail off, but some things are just going to happen and there’s not much you can do,” he said over the weekend at Wrigley Field. “How it goes from this point is not necessarily up to me.”
But then there’s his emotional brain, which envisions a better, much simpler picture.
Will Steele, a 2023 All-Star and the Cubs’ Opening Day starter in 2024, get back out there this season before it’s too late to help a team that could use his services in the worst way?
President of baseball operations Jed Hoyer expressed hope — but stopped short of “optimism” — the other day. Manager Craig Counsell said Steele has enough “runway” left, as long as there are no more setbacks with his arm.
The wondering isn’t of much use to Steele, as he expressed to the Sun-Times three weeks before his 31st birthday. Positive thinking — and gut feelings — are driving the bus now.
Does he feel it in his gut that he’s going to make it back to the mound and be really good again?
“I know it,” he said.
But how?
“I just know. I’m the same person, the same pitcher.”
It’s almost cruel that Steele squeezed only 91 career big-league starts in between his reconstructive elbow surgeries in 2017 and 2025. For a while — his emergent summer of 2022, his ace-like 2023 (fifth in Cy Young voting), his first Opening Day start and mostly excellent performance when healthy in 2024 — it seemed he might be the Cubs’ most important pitcher as they approached their next winning window.
Steele knew something was amiss on April 7, 2025 even while handcuffing the Rangers for seven shutout innings at Wrigley Field. Early on a 40-degree night, his fastball had its usual low-90s zip. By the seventh, when he buried a slider to strike out Kevin Pillar and fooled Josh Smith with an 88 mph fastball for his eighth K — the last out he’d record for a very long time — his arm felt strange. Walking to the dugout, he tried but failed to beat back concerns about what it might mean.
A year later, ramping up hard toward a comeback and expecting to make his debut in May or June, Steele was visited again by a sense of dread when he first felt the flexor strain that would put his 2026 season in jeopardy. He was already throwing three innings’ worth of pitches — and hitting 93 on the gun — when that happened.
“I was so ready,” he said, “so close to getting back to games, getting back to teammates, getting back to what I really love to do.”
Another ramp-up is right in front of him. If he’s going to help this Cubs team find its groove later in the summer, it’s now or never.
“I’m excited. I am extremely ready to get back out there and compete again,” he said.
Once upon a time, a Cub by the name of Kyle Schwarber missed six and a half months after a major injury, only to reappear just in time to have one hell of a season in eight unforgettable days in late October and early November. Who knows what awaits Steele if his arm cooperates this time?
“If we continue to win series, keep winning enough games and we get to the point where I’m back in games out there, I think the possibilities are endless,” he said.
In the dream scenario, Steele pitches well in the stretch run and in the playoffs, has a healthy 2027 and becomes a free-agent with lots of miles left in the tank and some revived earning power. Wouldn’t that be some story?
Steele actually takes issue with the premise, wanting to make something clear.
“I’m already doing what I dreamed of,” he said. “I never would’ve imagined I’d be in this position as a young kid. I always wanted to play baseball. I always dreamed of playing in the big leagues. This is my dream. As far as [the injury] part, sometimes it’s just out of your control — and sometimes it’s a blessing in disguise.”
Steele has two little ones — one a newborn — with wife Libby, and has had more time with them than a ballplayer is meant to have. Libby struggles with Lyme disease, the accompanying fatigue and soreness just plain a lot to deal with sometimes. Steele holds the extra time close as though it were a gift.
He used to drift off to sleep and dream about pitching again. Not lately.
“I dream about fishing,” he said.
A metaphor?
“Maybe,” he said. “My dreams now are about what I want to do post-baseball. Yeah, fishing with my son. I want my daughter to grow up fishing. Doing fun things, stuff outdoors, back home in Mississippi.”
Sounds mighty fine, indeed.
But it can wait a little bit, can’t it?