Joey Davis was standing outside of a bus in Hickory, North Carolina.

He waited and waited, like someone who just made eye contact at their high-school reunion, the 'Will they remember me?' thought process ran through his mind.

Off to the side, as dozens of college kids with Team USA jerseys stepped off, Spencer Torkelson was the last to exit. Davis hadn't seen him in months, approaching the Arizona State rising junior with caution in case, he was received as some foreign presence.

"Hey Spencer, I wanted to say it's Joey," Davis said, extending his arm out for a handshake.

That wasn't necessary.

Torkelson's face lit up when he spotted the Phillies' area scout. He rushed over to Davis, one-upping his handshake attempt by corralling him into a jubilant bear hug.

"That just made my day that a kid would remember me three years down the road from scouting him as a high-school kid," Davis said. "I got a great big bear hug from maybe the first player taken in the draft."

The first player taken in the draft? It's almost incredible the ease to which that flowed out of Davis' mouth. The first time he set eyes on the buzzed-haired teenager, the Phillies were looking at Torkelson as a possible third- or fourth-round selection back in 2017.

As the nearby area scout who specializes in evaluating right-handed power hitters, they sent Davis to check on the slugger from Petaluma.

According to Torkelson's parents, Rick and Lori, the Royals, and the Phillies were most active in scouting Torkelson, but no one was around more than Davis, who watched him play "eight-to-10 times." From first glance, Davis saw glimpses of Phillies' slugger Rhys Hoskins, whom he scouted and eventually drafted.

"He grinds out at-bats. For a bigger guy, it was a compact swing," Davis said. "The way he went about his business, the way he prepared, the way he keeps his body in shape, the weightlifting is just tremendous. He's like a professional."

That weightlifting acumen made its way into early draft-room discussions. There were other scouts questioning Torkelson's athletic ability. Was he just a big, clunky baseball player, they wondered. After all, he was 6-foot-2, 205-pounds. Not even a little, Davis assured them.

But sometimes scouts need to make their points in brasher, transparent ways.

Davis pulled that off. He found Casa Grande football film and flipped through Torkelson's highlights at running back. Playing on the big screen at the head of the table inside an MLB draft room was high school football tape.

"That was a first for me; I've never seen it," Davis joked. "But I was pulling out all of the punches. You would be very, very impressed with his football film."

On one of his last visits to Petaluma, Davis went to Torkelson's home. Lori cooked up spaghetti and garlic bread with salad on the side. The quartet just talked and talked, but in typical scout fashion, there were no guarantees.

After all, Davis' work as an area scout is just a small piece of the puzzle in the draft's grand scheme -- in Torkelson's case, a west-coast crosschecker, and two national crosscheckers also looked at him on behalf of the Phillies.

But Davis did gauge one thing from the dinner. If the money was right, Torkelson wanted to kick-start his major-league career. Rick and Lori said Torkelson was looking for a $500,000 signing bonus, and if a team gave it to him, he was more than likely off to the majors.

(For reference, the Phillies' third-round pick in 2017, pitcher Connor Seabold received a $525,000 signing bonus).

"I didn't know what to expect,' Torkelson said. "I had never known anyone going through that process. This whole process -- the draft -- is so new to me."

Torkelson and his parents sat by the TV for three days and vigorously watched the draft. Even Rick and Lori admit it now, the whole draft process was a bit eye-opening. With no basis to go off of, they, on the fly, had to find representation, navigate meetings, and educate themselves on the MLB Draft's complicated nature.

Even for a pair of CPAs, the jargon and terminology associated with the draft was incredibly confusing.

Rounds three and four went by with no mention of Torkelson's name. Eventually, the whole three-day extravaganza had wrapped up, and, without even the option of a decision, Torkelson was headed to Tempe.

"Once a kid of Spencer's caliber, once he slips past the third or fourth round," Davis said, "I think what happens in the business is we all think as area scouts that he's no longer signable and he's probably not going to get the money he's looking for and is probably going to end up at Arizona State."

"Going to college was the best thing that ever happened to him," Lori said.

****

He slung his bag off his shoulders and set it down next to the stairs. Still in his uniform following a series’ finale win at USC, he was headed down the sidewalk path behind the third-base line toward the team bus when a few kids ran down the stairs and called his name.

The kids, none of which looked older than 12, opened up a folder with a picture of the Arizona State first baseman, handing him a Sharpie and a smile. He obliged, signing the pictures and thanking them before they joyously whisked back to their parents.

Torkelson has become used to not necessarily fame, but being recognized. When he was younger, though, it didn’t make sense.

Why were kids his age freaking out when he walked by? Why were they hyping up so much? After all, he was just like them. A normal kid who loved baseball. What’s so special about that?

Torkelson has come to learn what’s unique about that, about why people are fascinated with him. Right now, it’s a few kids on a back staircase. In a few years, it’ll probably be spring training. The two kids will be 300, all yelling “Hey Number 20!” as he walks by.

And he’ll come over because he’s a good guy. Of all the things everyone else wants to show off, he wants to make an example out of that.

“I really appreciate it, and I don’t take it for granted. I use it as a way to show people that they’re not all mean guys. Average dudes can (do it too). It doesn’t take some stuck-up guy to make it to the big leagues or get drafted.”

Torkelson doesn’t like to talk or really think about the draft. As well as anyone in his position, he knows he could look online and find a million different websites or blogs that have his name at No. 1.

It would probably feel pretty good.

He could look once and smile, his dream plastered on the internet by some writer. He could take a second or two and visualize himself on draft day, he’s hugging his parents, congratulatory texts are flying in from Petaluma, and a million fans have just learned his name.

But, then, maybe he’ll look at it one too many times and say to himself, “Maybe I don’t need to go to the gym today.”

In all sports, the draft is made into this grandiose spectacle, the day where athletes can kick back and say, “All that hard work was worth it.”

It’s branded as the day a bunch of dreams come true. In reality, it’ll be the day Torkelson’s dream starts.

“It’s been in the making with him,” his hitting coach, Joey Gomes said. “And I’m not talking about the crazy Russian, the kid did a somersault at 2(-years old), so you put him in the Olympic camp. It’s what this kid has wanted. He’s like, ‘I’m just hitting play on life.’”

His uncle, Mike Enochs, who said the Detroit Tigers would be making a mistake if they passed on his nephew at No. 1, has already dreamed about the day he can retire and just follow Torkelson around the country. His tickets waiting at will call, he’ll walk right into a bunch of stadiums he’s only seen on TV and watch the kid he’s been tossing balls to since birth play on the biggest stage imaginable.

Tom Holliday, Torkelson’s coach with the Cape Cod League’s Chatham Anglers, said Torkelson reminds him of one of his former players at Oklahoma State, two-time All-Star Robin Ventura. Davis compared him to Hoskins and five-time All-Star Matt Williams.

No pressure, right?

There are hordes of people so close to Torkelson who have no problem throwing grand notions out there about his future. Some did it when he was 12 and hitting more home runs than people could keep track of; back then, they thought he might be able to go to a powerhouse college.

Somehow, he only got better, only worked harder. They’re confident no draft slot could change that.

“I know he’s going to work,” Davis said. “I know his work ethic will not change. And I know that he’s going to stay humble. That is not going to happen with him.

“That’s a lot of pressure on a kid, but if anyone is going to handle it, it’s going to be Spencer.”

Click here for PART ONE: The Legend of Torkelson: The little-league Babe Ruth

Click here for PART TWO: The Legend of Torkelson: Finding confidence in Tempe