GLENDALE, Ariz. – It’s happening again here. This time they might be better served to meet it with a side-eyed stare. This time, they might come armed with context, with more than a little weariness, a little wariness, as the welts of prior promises have hardly healed.

But, damn, he can still take your breath away.

Yasiel Puig is 26 years old. He’s already been the next Mantle. The next great somebody. The next Teen Wolf. The next story. The next cover boy. The next cautionary tale. The next bust.

Now he’s a guy wearing his cap backwards, leaning against the back of a folding chair, his arms crossed, tapping at his phone, his expression somewhere between impatience and amusement.

He’d hit two home runs the night before, muted the bat flips, and got everybody thinking again about a guy with that body, with those skills, with that speed, and with that future, if it could only be, if he’d only believe too. He’s carved away some of the muscle that tied him up against fastballs last season. He’s moved off the plate some, just a few inches, for the same reason. He’s standing more upright in the box, possibly just because it’s different, and everyone seems to be rooting for different. They always seem to be with Yasiel Puig.

Judging by his posture Saturday morning, Puig has grown bored of the nickel psychology questions, not to mention the amateur scouting questions, along with any passing questions at all. He’s here to be a good teammate. He’s here to improve. He’s here to follow the rules and be on time. (It should be noted that, according to TMZ, Puig’s home was burgled recently and among the missing items were three watches.)

He’s sticking to that script for now, eyes down, shoulders drawn, patience thin. He’d only a few minutes before strode into the clubhouse, banged a bat barrel off a table nearest Kenley Jansen’s propped feet, playfully snipped at his translator for clumsily kicking a box of juice jars near his locker, and then listened as Jansen and Justin Turner teased him about the bat flips.

Asked what he’s working on, he said, “Nothing.”

Asked about goals, he said, “I don’t have any goals.”

His lips curled into a tiny smile, the inside joke all his, and said, “Just trying to be the best teammate. Stay healthy. Play as many games that I can.”

Improve. Follow the rules. Be on time.

His T-shirt read, “#puigyourfriend. Not today.”

He’s batting .286 with three home runs and two doubles in 21 spring at-bats. He’s probably working on hitting right-handers better. His goal is probably to be the Dodgers’ starter in right field against all comers, to reclaim his career, to put past missteps behind him forever, to conduct himself in a way that at least keeps people off his butt. Maybe not. It wouldn’t seem unreasonable though. This is where fresh starts are born annually.

“The people have their opinions,” he said. “I’m just trying to play baseball, trying to do my job. I’m just doing my job and getting my paycheck.”

Surrounded — cornered, I guess, it might appear — by several reporters, Puig went on the offensive.

“I’m not worried about what people say,” he said. “People like you. I try to ignore dumb questions.”

Aimed at the group in general, aimed maybe at all reporters, maybe at anyone who assumes they know Yasiel Puig and what’s best for Yasiel Puig. And, well, that sounded healthy enough. A solid goal.

Then, after several observations from him that landed in the same general area — dumb questions from dumb people — I asked what a smart question from a smart person would be today.

“I can’t expect much from people like you,” he said, sort of joking, sort of nodding more toward the group, happy for anyone to wear it, “you’ve never asked a smart question.”

Hey, why not?

Fact is, the team asked him to adjust his workouts and he did. It asked him to adhere to a healthier regimen, and here he is, beginning to look super human again. He still has his obstinate moments, though they seem slightly less self-destructive today. The general manager who signed him is gone. The manager who first committed to him is gone. The new loyalty is to the best right fielder in camp, whomever that may be, and to not be the idiot who trades the next thing, the next thing after the last thing, but that can’t go on forever.

“Yasiel’s in a good space,” manager Dave Roberts said. “I think this is as good as I’ve seen him mentally, physically. Now it’s just a matter of trusting the process. … I’ll bet on him.”

So, yeah, it’s happening here again. They’re starting to believe again, and maybe they’d tell you they absolutely do believe Yasiel Puig can be great again, and maybe that’s true and maybe it’s not. That’s entirely up to him, his choices, his bat speed, his ability to tell a slider from a fastball, all that stuff that makes a ballplayer a ballplayer. Time passes, and suddenly you’re not the guy everybody’s falling all over to please, and people start deciding you are who you are. It comes with age. It comes with deeds.

In one revealing moment, he did say he’d spoken at some length with Albert Pujols and Robinson Cano. He said, “I feel like I owe it to them to be better.”

He can play. We know because we’ve seen it. It did happen. He did make you watch. And here we are again. So, Yasiel Puig, what do you think?

“Muy contento,” he said. “Muy contento.”

And that was enough of that.

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