Barbee's World: Roadrunners steal the show at NWAC Tournament

Story Book Closed – Naselle's Lindstrom helps Linn-Benton repeat; and more notes 'like that'

Kolten Lindstrom of Linn-Benton waits on a pitch during a game at the NWAC Tournament on Saturday, May 24. Lindstrom, a Naselle graduate, helped the Roadrunners repeat at NWAC champions at Story Field on Monday, May 26. / Photo by Skyler Smith of Framed Photography

Sam Barbee for Blast Zone Media / blastzonenews@gmail.com

Sam Barbee is an educator, a baseball coach, a game official, and a regular contributor to Blast Zone Media. He is an R.A. Long graduate, and a former leader for The Daily News sports desk.

College Baseball

Before we get into everything, I want to thank you, dear reader, for following along with me this week. And putting up with my eccentricities. And my blind spots. And my chintzy (at times) language and my apparent disregard for grammar (everything is on purpose!). Just this paragraph alone is enough to make an English teacher (Editor’s Note: Or an editor) grumble (can confirm!).

But I have to be honest, as I so frequently am here. Sometimes it feels like an empty endeavor. Making grain for an empty village. Building a ship for no crew. A thing to be made but not enjoyed.

And, because of you, dear reader, I know that not to be true. Because I get messages here and there about things I’ve written, or questions about what I thought of this or did I see that.

And I know that I’m not making grain for not an empty village, but a small and passionate one. And that is enough.

Because we move in small communities. Even as we live in large settlements (grand scheme over human history 30,000 is big and the 100,000 of the county is great), we don’t know everybody. We work in small circles. Church or sports or your neighborhood or your kid’s schoolmates’ family or your coworkers or whatever. It’s the most natural thing in the world for us. We’re apes. It’s what we’re wired to do.

And this community, this baseball community, is small. Shrinking. But not too small to see. I talked an old coach this weekend for several innings, telling stories and discussing umpiring or the proper way to field a grounder. I talked to old players, hearing their stories from college seasons or reconnecting about their lives currently. I talked to people I’m just getting to know about baseball and I talked to people I’ve known forever about other stuff.

And all the while, you, dear reader, were with me. Because I write to you. I write as if you understand every word I say while knowing you cannot. I had an old friend come speak to my high school team this season, and he stayed for most of practice to watch and help where he could. I said at one point during a bullpen that nobody ever has any idea what I’m talking about anymore. And he said it’s always been that way.

But I come from where you come from, dear reader, am centered by the same landmarks and road names and memories, so when I write I know you know what I mean. Because we share a community. Because we are humans. And that’s all we have.

So thank, you, again. For reading. Thank you for supporting local sports journalism at a time when local journalism is precariously close to disappearing.

Sorry. Now back to the regularly scheduled baseball commentary.

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