This isn’t really a column, it’s part obituary part personal ad. I’ve been reading too much Rick Reilly lately – Lindsay Schnell got me hooked.
Someone is missing today. They have been for a while. No one’s noticed though. Maybe no one cares.
I’m pretty sure I’m alone in this search. Then again, maybe coach Craig Robinson is with me.
Call me an old-timer, and by college standards that might apply, but I’m a sucker for nostalgia – and I don’t mean the song by Marco Polo and Masta Ace or the “dancer” at the gentlemen’s club in Eugene.
I’m a sucker for old things, places, events and attitudes.
I like leather helmets, gloves with no pocket and brown basketballs. I like Wrigley Field, Lambeau Field and even Yankee Stadium. I like “The Immaculate Reception” and “The Shot Heard ‘Round the World.” I like the look of a clay infield and the smell of real wooden courts. I read Jim Murray, Shirley Povich and Damon Runyon when I can find it.
The bad thing is, time is finite. Eventually old things pass on and get replaced. From Yankee Stadium to the late and great Jim Murray, and from jokes about Satchel Paige’s age to clay infields.
They are all replaced though. Yankee Stadium is giving way to a building next door. Jim Murray paved the way for thousands of columnists around the country, including myself. Jokes about Satchel Paige have ended, and now it’s all about Manny being Manny. Even the clay infields have been covered with FieldTurf.
Oregon State is no different. Stories about Terry Baker have been replaced by stories of Mike Hass, and compliments to Ralph Miller have subsided to accolades to Pat Casey.
But there is someone who has passed on and hasn’t been replaced. Someone with heart and emotion on the playing field. I mean real heart and emotion. Not the kind that comes because the players are paid to do it, but because they love it. The kind of heart possessed by a person who would transfer to a D-III school after four years if it meant one more year of riding the bench. Real heart and real emotion.
The heart and emotion of a Darwin Barney. The heart and emotion of an Ebony Young. The heart and emotion of a person who would cry if they couldn’t play the game anymore. Cry like they lost a kid sister. Cry like a 6-year-old that crashed his bike.
Brandon Hughes is close; he plays with heart, no doubt. It’s in his eyes. But he doesn’t play with the exuberance of Darwin Barney.
Tasha Smith is inches away; she competes with emotion. Her floor routine has proven that for three years. But she isn’t competing through two knee surgeries like Ebony Young.
Seth Tarver wouldn’t cry if he couldn’t shoot a ball the rest of his life. He might tear up, but wouldn’t cry. And people tell me that Daniel Robertson is the guy, but I haven’t seen it – yet.
What happened to sports? Are they so clouded by myopia and greed? Cluttered with money and jealousy? What happened to playing a sport simply to play the sport?
Ebony Young did. She returned to play for a new coaching staff after two knee surgeries. She didn’t return for playing time or a scholarship but because she loved the game.
Darwin Barney would be playing baseball if it cost him money. You could charge him “10 bucks a game” and he’d still be wearing his hat, a little crooked, and his smile, with a glove, ready to field line drives and turn double plays.
How many athletes around the country would do that? Very few. Because sports isn’t about sports anymore – it’s about money. It’s about stardom. It’s about myopia.
But how many normal Joe Schmos or Business Jims would pay “10 bucks a game” to play shortstop in Goss? Too many. Because to them, it’s the experience, the delight, the pure joy of sitting on the field.
Oregon State has lost a lot of talent the last few years, but more than that, OSU has lost a lot of heart, not just in a player or two either – in the entire community.
Five years ago – before baseball had back-to-back national championships, before the football team had four straight bowl victories, before the basketball team became a bottom-dweller – the teams were stacked with players that wanted to play the game just to play the game.
It might be a lost cause, dead and gone as they say. But there has to be someone out there who can answer nostalgia’s call.
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