David Wright’s bond with Michael Cuddyer paved way for No. 5

FORT MYERS, Fla. — Understanding the origin story of No. 5, the soon-to-be-retired jersey of former Mets captain David Wright, is a study that winds through the Chesapeake region of Virginia, then stretches from Wright’s Shea Stadium debut to his Citi Field farewell.

So many snapshots, taken over time, with so many teammates involving so many games and clubhouses. But some of the best insight regarding Wright’s unflinching drive to succeed, what made No. 5 who he is, can be found on a racquetball court, of all places, at a Gold’s Gym where he used to train during the offseason, not far from his childhood home.

And for that peek into Wright’s development, from high-ceiling prospect to beloved face of the franchise, there’s no better narrator than Michael Cuddyer, who was a mentor to the forever Met in high school, before he even knew it. Cuddyer, a two-time All-Star in a 15-year career that ended beside Wright with the Mets’ 2015 joyride to the World Series, was instrumental in forging his fellow Virginian’s ironclad determination.

Stoked inside the furnace of those scuffed-up four walls.

“Those games were intense,” Cuddyer told Newsday during a recent phone interview. “We’re both super-competitive, and we competed with each other no matter if we were on the treadmill — running for a certain time — or racquetball court afterward.

“Neither of us wanted to lose, and neither of us really knew what we were doing on that court. So it was just kind of this controlled aggression out there, where you’re seeing these two young guys in their low 20s just fighting each other — not literally fighting, but with a competitive nature.”

Cuddyer will be among Wright’s VIPs for the July 19 ceremony that will raise his No. 5 to the Citi Field rafters before the late afternoon game against the Reds.

More than a quarter-century ago, the two grew up on the same Chesapeake diamond — Wright, who is three years younger, was playing JV for Hickory High as an eighth-grader during Cuddyer’s star turn at Great Bridge High — when the initial impression was made.

“We shared a baseball field for some reason,” Wright told Newsday during a recent telephone interview. “And since we practiced after them, we’d be stretching and I remember dodging all these home run balls coming over the fence, thinking, ‘Oh, Michael must be hitting.’ ”

But Wright’s admiration for Cuddyer, whose reputation brought major-league scouts to that area for really the first time, went beyond those tape-measure blasts. It was happenstance that even brought Wright into Cuddyer’s same ZIP code during those years, as his family moved from Virginia Beach to help with sick grandparents. And because his former school system was ahead of Chesapeake’s curriculum, his dad, Rhon, arranged a deal in which a bus would pick up Wright halfway through his middle school day so he could finish at Cuddyer’s high school that year, another lucky bounce that paired them together.

“From a relatively young age, I was just mesmerized watching him work, mesmerized watching him hit,” Wright said. “Trying to learn as much as I could when he came and spoke to us at practice. I vividly remember trying to study him as much as possible.”

Just like at the plate, timing was everything. Wright easily could have missed Cuddyer, whom the Twins picked ninth overall in the 1997 draft — it was like a national holiday at Great Bridge High — and who knows how the rest of the story would have turned out if the two had never crossed paths?

But that was only the beginning. Cuddyer became sort of a baseball pioneer for that region, which then spawned Wright and more MLB stars in the Upton brothers —B.J. and Justin — Ryan Zimmerman and Mark Reynolds.

“Michael kind of put that place on the map,” Wright said. “I think it just wasn’t on people’s radars until Michael put it there.”

Major-league bond

Cuddyer’s connection with Wright, however, was life-changing. Four years after his buddy, Wright also went in the first round when the Mets selected him 38th overall, thanks to a supplemental pick they received for losing Mike Hampton in free agency.

The two Chesapeake kids — first brought together on travel teams — had made it to the majors, where the bond only grew stronger.

“Once he got drafted, I reached out to him, told him anything he needs, let me know, just because I had gone through those lower levels of the minor leagues at that point,” Cuddyer said. “We kind of struck up the friendship there. That’s how it evolved.”

And that’s when they picked up the rackets as part of their offseason workout regimens. For Wright, that was another extension of the “competition-based lifestyle” instilled in him by having three younger brothers (a pizza-eating contest was listed as well as pickup basketball) and the blue-collar mindset imprinted by his police officer dad and school bus-driving mom, Elisa. “A lunch-pail mentality” is how Wright described it.

The introduction of Cuddyer helped amplify all of those lessons.

“I was incredibly lucky to have all those coaches in amateur baseball,” Wright said. “And then you put the cherry on top with a first-round, top-10 pick that grew up right down the street from you, that’s offering advice to you and giving you the legitimate blueprint for success on the baseball field.

“All of this is handed to you when you’re in middle school, in high school, and it’s just such a head start. Because of my family, my coaches, guys like Michael that paved the way. It hands you the answer key, and then you just have to put the work in to accomplish that.”

For Wright, that meant a 14-year run in Flushing, seven All-Star appearances, four top 10 finishes for MVP and two Gold Gloves to go with a pair of Silver Sluggers. If not for debilitating neck, back and shoulder issues that slowed, then prematurely ended his career at age 33 — his official goodbye came two years later — Wright was on track to be a Cooperstown lock (he remains on the ballot after climbing to 8.1% this year).

That journey includes the 2015 World Series season with Cuddyer, who signed a two-year deal with the Mets but could complete only the first because of knee, wrist and core-muscle injuries that limited him to 117 games.

Of course, Wright was behind the initial recruitment of Cuddyer, and despite both being banged-up for that magical October, it was an unforgettable chapter of their relationship. Amid all that, what stood out for Wright was how Cuddyer worked with a 22-year-old rookie named Michael Conforto, fresh up from Double-A Binghamton, to make his debut midway through that season.

“Michael would probably be the first one to tell you that he wished he would have played a little bit better,” Wright said of Cuddyer. “It just goes to show you that I picked a good mentor because he basically lost his job to Conforto and he was Conforto’s biggest fan. He took Conforto out for breakfast every morning, helped him learn different ballparks, the bounces off the walls. It was pretty amazing that he lost his job to this young player but he was there to help him every step of the way.”

Numbers game

Cuddyer, now a Twins special assistant for baseball operations, knows something about the No. 5, too. He wore it during his 11 seasons in Minnesota, but there was no particular reason, other than it was the jersey hanging in his locker when Cuddyer showed up for his second big-league camp. Even the No. 24 Cuddyer made famous at Great Bridge High, where it was retired five years after his MLB debut, wound up on his back because that was the last uniform left at the time.

“I made the high school team as a freshman,” Cuddyer said, “and 24 was the number nobody wanted.”

Wright’s path to the No. 5 with the Mets wasn’t all that different. In fact, the No. 4 always had been his favorite, but when Wright got to Triple-A Norfolk, no one asked for his preference and the Tides gave him No. 5. Wright said he didn’t think much of it until the Mets called him up on July 21, 2004, for a game against the Expos at Shea. After wearing No. 72 in spring training, Wright was “weirdly looking forward to” what he’d get this time, and recalled the moment of seeing that No. 5 on the old Mets’ “snow-white” non-pinstriped home jersey (a style since retired).

The clubhouse manager at the time, Charlie Samuels, told Wright that he gave the rookie the number as a nod to Brooks Robinson and George Brett, a Hall of Fame lineage the Mets’ third baseman respectfully carried on during his Flushing tenure.

“I guess I didn’t know what to expect,” Wright said. “I didn’t know how it worked. But obviously a more than pleasant surprise.”

And now he’ll watch that No. 5 immortalized at Citi Field as only the 10th Met to have his number retired, with Cuddyer among the close friends and family beside him for that Queens ceremony. One made possible, you’d have to think, by those Chesapeake days together.

David Lennon is an award-winning columnist, a voter for baseball’s Hall of Fame and has covered six no-hitters, including two perfect games.