The Minnesota Twins rookie, called up earlier this week, is 31 years old.

Before his promotion, he had taken 2,868 plate appearances in the minor leagues. He had played in cities like Greenville, Salem, Worcester, Portland, Omaha and St. Paul.

He hadn’t even been drafted out of Creighton, and only after a strong season in independent ball in Gary, Indiana, did Fitzgerald get a contract in the Red Sox organization back in 2018.

He made it as high as Triple-A for Boston, but never the majors. He spent a year in Kansas City’s Triple-A, too, but never the majors.

This season, Fitzgerald had played in 59 games for the St. Paul Saints, hitting seven homers and batting .277.

Finally, the Twins and their depleted roster needed him.

And on Sunday, Fitzgerald came up with his first big league hit. It was a home run.

The call doesn’t do the moment justice. This is special.

This is perseverance. This is a guy who kept playing simply because he loved baseball. He never was given anything on the diamond.

It was never a given that he’d make the major leagues. It was never even a given that he’d have a contract waiting for him to play for any team the following season.

But after that winding journey, Fitzgerald has a moment he and his family will never forget.

It’s a moment a couple of decades worth of baseball in the making. It’s a moment that may have seemed like it was never coming. It’s a moment that many of baseball’s long-time minor leaguers never get to have.

Fitzgerald did this for them, the guys who never get to the show, the ones who are so, so close to being good enough, but not quite.

But mostly, he did it for himself. For the hours that no one ever saw, for the sweat that only he could ever truly feel. This was a dream come true in one swing, and no one can ever take that from Ryan Fitzgerald.