He's back.

Almost a calendar year after he last stepped foot on a Major League mound, he's back. This Saturday, June the 18th of 2016, he will write the newest chapter in his illustrious career. With a surgically repaired hip and a reputation to withhold, he will toe the rubber for the Los Angeles Angels and test his hand against Major League hitting once again.

This is the story of "The Freak", Tim Lincecum.

First, The Rise:

The world just feels right again with Lincecum back in action. The 5'11", 170-pound scrawnster defied odds season in and season out as the San Francisco Giants' ace of aces during their power trip from 2008-2014, capturing three World Series titles in that span, with Lincecum playing many different roles along the way. His herky-jerky delivery to the plate defied odds and baffled countless hitters along the way. "Big Time Timmy Jim", as he was dubbed in a memorable "This is ESPN" commercial, captured the eyes of baseball fans all over the country. Youngsters everywhere (including myself) emulated his famed pitching windup in the backyard with whiffle balls the best we could.

He was a folk hero, in every sense of the word. Nothing about him was normal, and we loved that about him. How did he do that? Coaches and scouts everywhere who saw him pitch in the Minor Leagues, and even continuing on into his career in the Majors, all said the same thing: "That won't last," "That delivery is unsustainable," "His arm will be shot before you can blink." Yet year after year, here was Tim, racking up the hardware to his ever-growing trophy room. The man literally wasted next to no time on his tour to fame, and in his second full year in the Majors, was voted as the National League's Cy Young Award recipient after posting eye-popping numbers that included 18 wins, 265 strikeouts, and a 2.62 earned run average. Those same coaches and scouts mumbled and grumbled at that news; "Give it time", they said. Then came 2009. Am I watching a rerun? Holy cow, he's done it again. 16 more wins, 261 more strikeouts, and another Cy Young. While those peripherals don't look like an improvement from 2008, the deeper you delve into the stats, it's evident that Lincecum truly did improve, which is nothing short of astounding. "The Freak" lowered his season earned run average from a year before to 2.48, allowed 14 less hits in virtually the same amount of innings pitched (from 182 down to 168), and issued 16 less free passes as well, cutting his walks down from 84 to 68.

It was happening. Lincecum, in front of our eyes, was proving baseball hierarchies everywhere so very wrong. The game of baseball had lost the art of funky, unique pitching deliveries over the years, as a new age of "cookie cutter", safe pitching windups were being taught to young players so as to protect their prized arms to last a career. Long gone, so it seemed, were the days of the Juan Marichal leg kick, Fernando Valenzuela's eyes looking straight up to the sky, and the Walter Johnson sidearm slings.

So it seemed.

Lincecum went on to have two more years of pure domination. His four-year reign of terror from 2008-11 saw him take home the two aforementioned Cy Young Awards, nominations to four consecutive National League All-Star pitching staffs, and oh, by the way, 62 wins and 977 strikeouts for the boys by the San Francisco Bay in just under 882 innings of work.

Then came The Fall:

Now, let me begin by saying that it wasn't the fall that his critics had predicted in the years before. No, Lincecum never suffered any devastating arm injuries. In fact, I hinted to the condition earlier on in the article. Tim suffered from a degenerative hip condition that led to many struggles in his seasons from roughly the 2012 and beyond. The timeline is fuzzy as is, mostly because even the man himself who suffered from the condition kept it under wraps. Granted, it may not have been his smartest decision, but Lincecum was a gamer who thought that him pitching at less than 100 percent was better than the next guy. That's just who he was.

2012-2015 was a complete 180 for the once-great phenom. Lincecum never posted an earned run average under 4.13, nor ever reached 200 strikeouts. In fact, in 2012, Lincecum became so ineffective as a starting pitcher towards the latter part of the season that when it came time to battle for a World Series crown in October, longtime Giants manager Bruce Bochy made one of the toughest decisions of his managerial career. Bochy relegated Lincecum to the bullpen, deeming him more effective in shorter outings. Despite his fierce competitive attitude, Lincecum took the demotion in stride and made the most of the new role. Lincecum threw 17.2 innings, with the majority of those innings coming out of the bullpen, allowing only five runs while punching out 20 men on strikes. The Giants went on to win their second World Series title in three years.

I'm sorry, but I, myself, am baffled right now. Right this second. My hands went up in confusion just before this sentence was written. I feel wrong even calling Lincecum's fall, a true "fall". What I'm about to touch on only further proves Lincecum's status as a true "Freak" of Nature:

He no-hit the San Diego Padres twice in a span of less than a calendar year.

He no-hit... the San Diego Padres... twice... in a span of less than a calendar year.

Yeah, saying it twice didn't help. Still amazing.

I knew this about Tim Lincecum before this article was conceived, but the further along I got into this piece, it only further stuck out in my mind at how enigmatic Lincecum truly became!

This man literally reached the lowest of lows in his professional pitching career. This man became a shell of his younger self. This man lost his velocity on his humming fastball, lost almost all drive and power in both of his legs, and became the ultimate "I-told-you-so" poster child to all those coaches and scouts who wrote him off years before. Yet still, on two separate occasions, he showed up with the best "stuff" he could muster up and left the ballpark three hours later with a no-hitter.

I mean, my goodness, the first one took --

Wait. Hang on just one second. Readers, bear with me...

(I suggest all pitching coaches of the world to look away for just one sentence. Don't say I didn't caution you. Go ahead, be brave, but you've been warned. No peeking!)

-- 148 pitches to complete!

(You can look again.)

If that doesn't scream "Freak", I really don't know what does at this point.

Okay. I'm composed again. Now, for The Return:

Lincecum finally opted for arthroscopic surgery last September on his ailing left hip. Once Lincecum was given the "all clear" to resume baseball activities, he called up, (who else?) the man who taught him the game he loved so dearly: his father, Chris. The two began a throwing program in the state of Arizona in hopes to channel the past form that garnered him the nickname "The Freak" in the first place.

After long weeks of preparation, a date was set for a Major League showcase in which Tim would throw off a mound for upwards of 20 Major League clubs. May 6th, 2016.

Questions, of course, arose from the situation unfolding.

Naturally, they were about Tim's new hip.

Naturally, in typical dad fashion, Papa Lincecum responded with, "That hip is perfect. He'll be dead before that hip goes bad."

High praise. I sure won't be the one to doubt his words.

The Los Angeles Angels didn't doubt his words, or his son's ability, either. Tim's stuff was electric, with a fastball reaching a top speed of 92 m.p.h. with arm-side movement and breaking balls snapping off like it was 2008 again. The Angels bought into the one day hype, signing him to a one-year contract worth $2.5 million, filled with many other incentivized goals just two weeks after the showcase.

Now, here we are. What a long, wild, storied road it's been. After just under a month spent in the Minor Leagues fine-tuning and getting accustomed to the speed of the professional game again, Tim is ready to rock and roll this Saturday against his new divisional rival, the Oakland Athletics.

Equally fitting, Tim's return to the Majors is just in time for Father's Day weekend, too. Talk about a Major League gift for a Major League dad, who never stopped believing in his son even in his darkest of hours.

The Angels, decimated by injuries already, are praying, yearning for a diamond in the rough. Their dreams of a division title are slipping through their hands like sand. There's only so much you can do to patch the holes when your disabled list looks like a 31st Major League team. Look for Lincecum to work out the kinks Saturday and become the anchor the Angels are in desperate need of, just in time for the dog days of summer. Look for that 5'11", 170 pound presence to be felt sooner rather than later, and don't miss those priceless camera shots of confused hitters returning to their dugouts from whence they came, wondering how that little guy could have possibly spun off that nasty of a curveball. They should know better by now though, after all...

...you don't question a Freak.