CINCINNATI \u2014 There\u2019s evidence of a future major-leaguer throughout Will Benson<\/a>\u2019s childhood room, a sports-adoring, adrenaline-thirsting teenager\u2019s sanctuary that has remained untouched during his baseball journey.<\/p>\n There\u2019s the bat bearing the signature of Hank Aaron, one of baseball\u2019s luminary sluggers, especially to an Atlanta kid with dreams of powering baseballs into the outfield seats. The bat displaying his own name, presented to him the night he became a 2016 first-round draft pick. His geometric painting of the MLB<\/a> logo. The two team pictures from the Duke baseball program, which Will nearly joined, with the maxims: \u201cTrust your process\u201d and \u201cPreparation has no offseason.\u201d<\/p>\n The most telling hint, though, that Will was destined for a big-league batter\u2019s box is the busted violin that, for 20 years, has collected dust on the top shelf.<\/p>\n Will\u2019s father, Ted, wanted Will to follow in the footsteps of his older brother, Theodore Charles.<\/p>\n TC\u2019s primary passions were violin and T-ball. But Will\u2019s mother, Ramona, barged into Will\u2019s room \u2014 TC\u2019s old room \u2014 and caught her son swatting baseballs with the stringed instrument. The damaged tailpiece signaled the end of Will\u2019s orchestral career.<\/p>\n Now, at 25, he pummels fastballs with a burgundy Chandler maple bat.<\/p>\n Will\u2019s big-league ambition, his insistence on aiding Atlanta kids and his drive to reward his parents \u2013 and reimburse them for violin repairs \u2013 all trace back to an afternoon 28 months before he was born.<\/p>\n TC\u2019s spirit has propelled Will throughout his baseball journey, one that has taken him from the brink of early retirement to the front line of a pennant race with the Reds<\/a>. TC reminds Will why the Bensons hold onto family bonds with an unrelenting grip, especially as Will blissfully stares at the cutout of his baby boy\u2019s face that dangles from the mirror in his Jeep.<\/p>\n Theodore Charles\u2019 presence permeates every part of Will\u2019s life \u2013 even though they never met.<\/p>\n One spring morning in 2018, Will stood near a back field at the Indians\u2019 complex in Arizona and cried, reflecting on a note he received from his mom a few weeks earlier.<\/p>\n There aren\u2019t 29 days in February but between today and 3\/1 is the 22nd anniversary of your brother\u2019s death. Today you made the darkest date of the year brighter. Love you to the moon and beyond. \u2014 Mom<\/i><\/p>\n That spring, a 19-year-old Will, sporting No. 66, pinch-hit in Cleveland\u2019s final Cactus League tuneup. He smacked a two-run homer that clanged off the metal overhang over the right-field concourse.<\/p>\n His mom\u2019s message, he said, reminded him why he so desperately wanted to thrive on the diamond.<\/p>\n That home run reminded him that he could.<\/p>\n Will convinced himself he would reach the majors a year after he was drafted, a teenager with a gap-tooth smile who carried around a lucky foxtail keychain, wreaking havoc on a league full of grizzled pitchers with a decade\u2019s worth of big-league scars.<\/p>\n \u201cBaseball,\u201d says Will\u2019s lifelong friend and former Cleveland<\/a> teammate, Xzavion Curry<\/a>, \u201cis not just a smooth ride.\u201d<\/p>\n That applies to a prospect with athleticism oozing from his 6-foot-5 frame, with enough muscle to plan to walk on to Coach K\u2019s Duke basketball team, with enough speed to swipe bases and cover miles of outfield terrain and with enough power to produce a four-homer game in A-ball. And, as Ramona is quick to remind him, with enough flexibility to complete an arabesque \u2014 he begrudgingly learned that from his mom and sister, both dancers \u2014 which helped when stretching to snag a fly ball or when contorting to corral a missed jumper.<\/p>\n At the end of each minor-league season, his mom would meet him in whatever small town he spent the summer. They packed up his belongings, shut off his utilities and trekked back to Atlanta.<\/p>\n But in 2019, Will preferred a solo trip home from Lynchburg, Va. His parents waited for him at the front door, ready to praise him for trudging through another marathon.<\/p>\n Instead, Will told them he was done with baseball. The kid who every waking moment of his childhood needed a ball to rebound or swing at or kick, the kid who took batting practice with a violin \u2014 he was ready for something else.<\/p>\n \u201cThis defeated person was standing in front of us,\u201d Ramona says.<\/p>\n He still loved the sport. But after repeating A-ball and suffering through a rotten second half, he just didn\u2019t think he was capable.<\/p>\n They countered with encouraging statistics and home-run highlights. They asked him to stick with it for one more year. The following summer, when the pandemic wiped out the minor-league season, Will limped through two months in the Constellation Energy League, a four-team outfit tossed together in Sugar Land, Texas.<\/p>\n He took longer than he preferred to adjust to each new level. He was passed over in the Rule 5 Draft. He grappled with the purpose of it all.<\/p>\n But last summer, as he fetched Taco Bell for his then-girlfriend, he received a call informing him the Guardians were promoting him to the majors.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a beacon of hope for people with similar stories,\u201d Will says, \u201cpeople with similar backgrounds.\u201d<\/p>\n On Feb. 29, 1996, Ramona received a call at work to rush to the children\u2019s hospital.<\/p>\n Amid the chaos of afternoon dismissal, with children spilling out of Fickett Elementary School, her 5-year-old had been run over by his school bus. By the time Ramona arrived, TC had died.<\/p>\n Five days later, they held his funeral service at Wheat Street Baptist Church. A gathering necessitated by an inconceivably devastating, paralyzing tragedy carried an uplifting tenor.<\/p>\n \u201cLife is a gift that is not promised,\u201d Ramona says. \u201cWe never know how long we\u2019re going to have, so you have to appreciate every moment as it occurs. When something happens that I can\u2019t change, I have to immediately find a way to get through it and accept it. I was so immensely grateful for the fact that if TC had to die that day, he died knowing that he was loved every single day. Who has that? I had not had a chance to disappoint him, because he was only 5 1\/2. I had not had a chance to destroy his image of how wonderful the world is, because parents do that. We talked about the things that we were grateful for and we celebrated the good things in his life.<\/p>\n \u201cEverybody grieves differently and that\u2019s how we got through it is that we accepted that from everybody. Do what you have to do to get through this.\u201d<\/p>\n Ramona described the loss of their son as a tornado merging with a hurricane, their world overrun by howling winds and static rainfall. They abandoned their bid to purchase a new home. They delayed their plans to have a third child, \u201ca tiebreaker\u201d who would tilt the advantage in the Benson household, since Ramona and Heather found themselves on the opposite side of Ted and TC in every debate.<\/p>\n \u201cIt really derailed so much,\u201d Ramona says.<\/p>\n Ramona preserved a memory box for each of her three children. Each box contains the onesie they wore home from the hospital, their favorite childhood book and other keepsakes. When Will\u2019s sister, Heather, had a baby girl, Ramona bequeathed Heather\u2019s box to her daughter. Will\u2019s box included \u201cCharlotte\u2019s Web,\u201d which he used to call \u201cThe Spider and the Bugs,\u201d and a copy of \u201cPocahontas.\u201d When Will welcomed his son, Ramona passed along Will\u2019s memory box.<\/p>\n \u201cThe thing that\u2019s so hurtful for me is that there will never be anybody to give TC\u2019s box to,\u201d Ramona says.<\/p>\n She has finally reached a point in which the precise number of years, months, days, hours and minutes since her son passed no longer flash constantly in her head. She isn\u2019t sure if her mind is slipping with age, or if it\u2019s because she has two children and two grandchildren to keep her occupied.<\/p>\n On March 1, 2023, a non-Leap Year, with no exact anniversary of TC\u2019s passing, Will and his fianc\u00e9e, Lindsey, welcomed their first child.<\/p>\n \u201cFamily was there when there was nothing but you in a diaper,\u201d Will says. \u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m seeing being a father. Somebody had to do that for me. They made the sacrifice for me to be where I am today.\u201d<\/p>\n Since the day he was drafted in 2016, Will has discussed partnering with his friend Curry and other Atlanta-rooted big-leaguers to create a baseball Mecca in Fulton County, with an array of diamonds surrounding one, main field, a haven welcoming anyone with a passion for the sport.<\/span>\u201cWhy else are we doing this?\u201d Will says. \u201cObviously, yes, to provide for our families. But also, to give another kid an opportunity just like I had, to make it more accessible, using the leverage and platform that I have.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re going to see me and know that what I have is real and it\u2019s attainable. I can set that example.\u201d<\/p>\n Will and Curry had been inseparable since they played as Little Leaguers for the Sandtown Red Sox. They even began their climb through professional baseball together. Last February, as they finished the same weightlifting routine at the Guardians\u2019 complex in Goodyear, Will noticed he had a missed call from team president Chris Antonetti. He knew what that meant.<\/p>\n Here he was, three weeks from becoming a father, his personal life headed for a metamorphosis. And now his work life was about to be flipped upside down, too.<\/p>\n Four months earlier, he was completing a gender reveal at Progressive Field, exploding a baseball to spread blue dust across the infield dirt. He was a wide-eyed rookie contributing a small role in pushing the Guardians to an AL Central title.<\/p>\n As the new season approached, Will was fixated on proving himself, carving out a regular role and rewarding the Guardians for their seven-figure investment and their patience.<\/p>\n So as he retrieved his phone to connect with his boss, he told Curry \u2014 the two were called up to Cleveland within two weeks of each other in 2022 \u2014 he was going to refuse to be traded.<\/p>\n \u201cLook, I know what this call is for,\u201d Will said to his friend, \u201cand you better be coming with me or I ain\u2019t going.\u201d<\/p>\n Will had no actual say on the matter, of course. Antonetti told him he was being dealt to Cincinnati. For spring training, Will was only relocating a half-mile away on S. Wood Boulevard. He could wave to his old teammates each morning as he drove to the Reds\u2019 facility.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t care what anybody says, there\u2019s still a boy in there who doesn\u2019t like rejection,\u201d says Ramona, who had crocheted onesies with the Cleveland logo in anticipation of her grandson\u2019s arrival.<\/p>\n \u201cThat whole time period was very testing,\u201d Will admits.<\/p>\n Before Will\u2019s first major-league home run whizzed past the right-field fence at Great American Ball Park, Ted was high-fiving his wife.<\/p>\n Ramona was fixated on the TV, which lagged a minute behind Ted\u2019s MLB Gameday app. He\u2019s too impatient to wait for the results to unfold on the broadcast, so as his wife sat on the couch, anxiety swallowing her whole, he couldn\u2019t contain himself.<\/p>\n After Will connected with Evan Phillips\u2019 fastball, he turned to the Reds\u2019 dugout, shouted and slammed his bat to the ground. He initiated his trot around the bases, knowing his teammates would be waiting at home plate to toast to his walk-off blast.<\/p>\n The previous half-inning, between pitches, Will started mapping out the sequence in the outfield. He knew he was due up second. He knew the Dodgers<\/a> would turn to their top righty reliever. And then, boom, a signature moment to punctuate another victory for a team announcing its arrival in the NL Central.<\/p>\n Every game, Ramona fields texts from high school friends and from her Westminster Wildcat mom group. The group thread for Will\u2019s Oldest Fan Club, a collection of his aunts and uncles, never relents. She hears from parents of local Georgia players who consult the Bensons for advice on the scouting and drafting process and on how to navigate the professional ranks. When the Reds faced the Cardinals<\/a> earlier this month, Ramona exchanged messages with Jordan Walker<\/a>\u2019s father, Derek.<\/p>\n Anytime Will hits one into the seats, Ramona\u2019s brother sends the proper number of flexed bicep emoji to reflect his home run total.<\/p>\n
\n In his first full major-league season, Benson hit .268\/ .359\/ .498 for a 127 OPS+ and stole 15 bases. (Dylan Buell \/ Getty Images)<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i3.wp.com\/cdn.theathletic.com\/app\/uploads\/2023\/09\/24125454\/IMG_1304-scaled-e1695574516664.jpg\")
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\n Will Benson celebrated Father\u2019s Day with his dad, Ted (left), and his son, Theo. (Courtesy of the Benson family)<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n