To gain an understanding of who Oswaldo Cabrera is, try putting yourself in his spikes on the afternoon of Sept. 7: 

Facing the Twins in the first game of a doubleheader at Yankee Stadium, they have you leading off a lineup that features Ronald Guzmán hitting cleanup and Miguel Andújar batting fifth, with Estevan Florial and Oswald Peraza batting seventh and ninth, respectively. Just a few weeks ago, all five of you were in Triple-A together. But the Yankees, dinged up and in need of a spark, summoned you to The Show in mid-August, the realization of a dream you have spent most of your 23 years on Earth working toward.

Over your first 18 games in the bigs, you have impressed your manager, your coaches and your teammates with your versatility, your attitude and your skill. An infielder by trade, they put you in right field, where you had barely ever played, in just your third game. Naturally, Jameson Taillon’s first pitch was hit right at you -- over your head, in fact. So, you raced back and made a perfectly timed leap at the wall, extending every last inch of your 5-foot-10 frame to rob Toronto’s Lourdes Gurriel Jr. of a home run.

Today’s game is tied, 3-3, after nine innings, and when Minnesota’s Luis Arraez strokes a single to right field to lead off the 10th, the Twins make the mistake of testing your arm -- again. Gilberto Celestino -- the extra-innings automatic base runner, whom you threw out trying to stretch a single into a double in the first game of this series -- attempts to score from second on Arraez’s hit. You throw a seed to catcher Jose Trevino for your fifth assist in just 12 games in right field, surpassing teammate and MVP candidate Aaron Judge in that category. Over the course of the entire season, just three American League right fielders have more.

At the plate, you’ve been making good contact, but the last week or so has been fruitless. Today hasn’t been much better; when you come up in the bottom of the 10th with runners on first and second and a chance to be the hero, you ground weakly to third for an inning-ending double play.

You are 0 for your last 25 with nine strikeouts when you grab a bat once again in the 12th inning. A skein like that might get inside a rookie’s head, but you’re Oswaldo Cabrera. You’ve trained yourself to step into the box with a blank slate and take each at-bat pitch by pitch, competing as hard as you can against the guy on the mound. In this case, it’s Trevor Megill. The Twins right-hander has reverse splits -- righties are hitting above .300 against him, while lefties are down below .230 -- but you nonetheless hop into the left-handed batter’s box.

Switch-hitting is another example of your versatility. Growing up in Venezuela, of course you admired slugger Miguel Cabrera, a sure future Hall of Famer. But with your lithe frame, you realized early on that hitting 500-foot home runs was probably not going to be your ticket to the United States. So, you found inspiration watching guys such as Omar Vizquel, the 5-foot-9, 11-time Gold Glove Award winner who starred at shortstop and hit from both sides of the plate; Carlos Guillén, who played 14 seasons for the Mariners and Tigers as a switch-hitting infielder and whose baseball academy helped prepare you for life in the pros; and Ehire Adrianza, the switch-hitting utilityman now in his 10th season who has won three World Series rings and is like a cousin to you, hailing from the same hometown of Guarenas.

You also looked up to Marwin Gonzalez, another switch-hitter capable of playing just about anywhere on the diamond, with whom you now share a clubhouse. You began peppering him with questions during spring training. Seeing your excitement to learn and to get better, the 11-year vet has tried to impart all the wisdom he could, and he is impressed by what you have shown so far.

“His attitude on the field, it’s like he has been here before,” Gonzalez says. “I’m not talking about cockiness, but just the confidence that you see in his face and how he moves and all those things, that’s what I’ve been impressed with the most.”

And so, with runners on second and third and two outs in the bottom of the 12th, you dig in against Megill with another opportunity to be the hero. The right-hander’s first offering comes whistling inside at 99 mph. It might have gone for ball one, but you, perhaps a bit overeager to come through for your team and halt the 0-for-25 skid, swing at it and foul the ball directly into your right kneecap, causing you to buckle down on your left knee in pain.

Your manager, Aaron Boone, is among those who have been wowed by your style of play. “Fearless” is a word he uses to describe you. He knows you’re not coming out of this game, but he wants to make sure it doesn’t speed up on you. As you try to walk off the shooting pain in your right leg, Boone emerges from the dugout and meets you near the on-deck circle, gesturing to calm down and reminding you to relax.

You nod in assurance that you’ve received the manager’s message and get back in the box. You stare out at Megill, preparing for another heater. Twins catcher Gary Sánchez raises his mitt in front of his mask, signaling for a high fastball. Megill hits the spot, perhaps an inch or two above the strike zone, and you swing and miss -- 0 and 2.

“This young man is really struggling right now,” says YES Network announcer Michael Kay, but this current stretch is nothing compared to where you were just a couple months ago.

You began 2022, your sixth Minor League season, in Triple-A with the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre RailRiders. You played well enough defensively, committing just one error while shuffling around second, third and shortstop, but 22 games into the season, you were hitting .186 with one home run. You had reckoned with a low batting average before -- you hit .229 at Low-A in 2018 -- but that was part of your development, and even if the hits weren’t falling, you were still stinging the ball all over the yard.

This was different. A shoulder injury was sapping you of your power, and so they sent you to the injured list. For two months this summer, all you could do while rehabbing was stew over that .186 mark next to your name. You knew in your heart you’re better than that, and it was killing you that you had to wait to prove it.

The weeks dragged on for what felt like years, but finally you were cleared to play. You got right to work restoring your stat line. After a quick, five-game tune-up in Florida, you returned to the RailRiders, got hit by a pitch in your first plate appearance, then smacked a two-run homer in your next one. From your July 12 return through Aug. 16, you slashed .330/.411/.629 with seven homers and eight steals. During those 25 games, you had nearly as many RBI (23) as strikeouts (24). 

By the time you got called up to the bigs on Aug. 17, you had raised your average from .186 to .262. But now, here you are in an 0-2 hole against a guy who hits triple digits on the radar gun, and after going 0-for-5 so far today, the average next to your name on the center-field video board at Yankee Stadium reads .176. 

But in this moment, all you are thinking about is the challenge that lies in front of you.

You know Megill has that wicked knuckle curve that lefties are batting just .167 against, but you still have to be ready for the four-seamer, which is what Megill tries to get you to chase again. Just like the previous pitch, this one is above the zone at 100 mph, but you lay off it, then drag your back foot through the dirt of the batter’s box toward your front foot a la Juan Soto.

Scared? Not you.

After going up and away with the fastball, Megill comes inside the zone with a belt-high 85 mph curve -- a tried-and-true recipe for putting away batters, especially relatively inexperienced rookie batters, with two strikes. But you’re no ordinary rookie. You’re Oswaldo Cabrera. You foul off the pitch, prompting Sánchez to jog out to the mound and discuss with his pitcher how to put you away.

You’re doing something. They have to strategize to get the supposedly overmatched rookie out. 

You stare out at Megill and think that he might go back to the fastball that helped him get ahead in the count. Sure enough, he tries to pump a 99 mph heater past you, but you foul it back to the screen to stay alive at 1-2.

Your teammates are all standing in the dugout, leaning on the railing, locked in on your at-bat. They desperately want you to come through, not just for a much-needed September victory, but for you, personally. The energy and enthusiasm you have brought to the team has been a welcome addition, and your thirst for knowledge has endeared you to the more experienced players.

“His attitude around here has been refreshing for a lot of the guys,” says shortstop Isiah Kiner-Falefa. “He asks a lot of questions, and when guys do that, it’s also a reminder to yourself, as a veteran guy, to appreciate being in the big leagues. 

“He’s very joyful; he enjoys being here. He’s having a lot of fun, always smiling. … He’s solid all around. Every at-bat, he’s fouling balls off, he’s working the count. He’s definitely not an easy out.”

Megill is finding this out firsthand. What started off looking like it was going to be a quick, three-pitch at-bat has now gone on for more than three minutes. Four of the five pitches he has thrown you have been at least 99 mph, and all have been either up or in. 

This may be just your 19th game in the bigs, but you’ve been playing baseball since you were 3 years old. Not just playing it -- working at it. Growing up in Guarenas the youngest of four children, you learned what it means to work hard from your parents. When your grandparents got sick, your mom left her job teaching at a university to care for them while your dad, also a teacher, took on extra classes. He’d teach at one school in the morning, teach at a university in the afternoon, then at another university in the evening. On Sunday nights, he would drop you off at Carlos Guillén’s baseball academy three hours away, then come back on Friday nights to pick you up. For three years he did that so that when you turned 16, you’d be in the best position possible to sign with a Major League team and pursue your dream. On July 2, 2015, you did just that, signing with the New York Yankees. Beginning with the Dominican Summer League in 2016, you played in nearly 600 Minor League games, honing your craft and working toward moments like this one.

So even though you’re a rookie, you have a pretty good understanding of what pitchers are trying to do. When Megill comes at you with a low, outside breaking ball for the sixth pitch of the at-bat, you’re ready. You stick your bat head out across the plate and slap a ground ball into left field, driving home Kiner-Falefa from third. 

The Yankees win, 5-4, securing a winning record for the 30th consecutive season and the 44th time in the 50 seasons since George Steinbrenner led the purchase of the team from CBS. The crowd goes wild. Your compatriot Gleyber Torres is first among the swarm of teammates to mob you at first base. And your hitless streak is over, not that it was at the front of your mind.

In that moment, all you were trying to do was win the battle.

“He’s not overwhelmed at all by being here,” your manager says the next day. “Even through that tough stretch where he didn’t get a lot of hits, I still feel like it’s always a competitive at-bat. This is a guy that I feel like is a big leaguer, and when I look at him, I see a guy that’s going to have a long big-league career. He has that kind of makeup and poise and intelligence, and he’s not afraid of any moment.”

There will be many more moments in your career that test you. Sometimes you will fail. Sometimes you will succeed. Sometimes you’ll even make history: The nightcap of the Sept. 7 doubleheader sweep of Minnesota marks the first time ever that four Venezuelans -- you, Torres, Gonzalez and Peraza -- are in the Yankees’ starting lineup.

But you’ll never be unprepared or wish it was someone else with the bat in his hands in a big spot.That’s not who you are.

“This was my dream,” you say. “I’m here and just trying to compete every day. 

“Right now, I’m trying to enjoy each moment.”