The 405 Coffee Break with O.K. Solberg

Today O.K. shares with you a story about baseball. The Game That Was Meant To Be.

What is The 405 Coffee Break with O.K. Solberg?

Greetings and Welcome to The 405 Coffee Break with O.K. Solberg

New episodes tend to air over the local KMMR radio station @ 5 minutes past 4PM each M-F. And have been doing so, nearly every week since Sept 2018.

I'm D.J. Rasmussen, O.K.s friend since junior high, possibly your neighbor & this websites maintainer, whom strives to get each episode's show notes written, the transcript proofed and the audio posted to the internet within a few hours of that days KMMR air time. NOTE: recently been publishing most new releases by 4:30PM.

Thanks for visiting and I hope you enjoy the time we can spend together.

OK Solberg:

I wanna again welcome you to The 405 Coffee Break. Guys, get a tall cool glass of lemonade. Find some shade. Let's see what's happening out there.

OK Solberg:

Spring wheat $6.45 a bushel, 550lb steer calf, $5 to $5.15 a pound, and $3.30 is the top end for a 100lb fat lamb in Billings. But, guys, there's more, much more.

OK Solberg:

Okay. The baseball season is well past the halfway mark. Really, the season is about 2/3rd's complete, and the world series is less than 3 months away. And today, I'm gonna share with you a story about baseball that I found online because I haven't talked baseball for a long while.

OK Solberg:

But 1st a bible verse. Galatians 6:9 And it's a good one for baseball. It says, and let us not be weary in well doing. For in due season, we shall reap if we faint not. Again, Galatians 6:9. Keep on going. We shall reap if we faint not. It won't always be easy. Sometimes there'll be a strikeout, but keep at it just like in baseball.

OK Solberg:

Now listen to the story I found online titled, The Game That Was Meant To Be. Every summer afternoon somewhere across America, a father leans against a chain link fence. Or a grandmother unfolds a lawn chair. Little boy chews sunflower seeds that he can't quite crack, and someone hollers, bring the heat.

OK Solberg:

Now there are games with clocks, games with helmets, games where the biggest man usually wins, and well, then there's baseball. It's the only major sport where the team playing defense is holding the ball. Now think about that for a moment. In football, the offense owns the football. In basketball, the offense controls the ball.

OK Solberg:

In hockey, the offense possesses the puck. But but in baseball, the defense begins every play with complete control and still must find a way to stop you. Maybe that's why baseball has always looked a little bit like life. Its language is unlike any other. You don't score a point.

OK Solberg:

You cross home. You don't leave the field. You head for the dugout. You don't make a mistake. You make an error. You can paint the corners, throw a heater, hang a curve, turn two, squeeze a bunt, steal a bag, hit a can of corn, or you caught him looking.

OK Solberg:

The dictionary never saw baseball coming. Then there's the season itself. A major league club doesn't play 17 games or 30 or even 80. They lace up their spikes for a 162 games day after day, city after city, hot days, cold nights, rain delays, extra innings.

OK Solberg:

It's less a sprint than a 6 month conversation. And perhaps nowhere else is failure treated so kindly. Now imagine a salesman who succeeds only three times out every 10 or a surgeon or an airline pilot. They'd be out of work before lunch. But but in baseball, bat 300 for your career in Coopertown.

OK Solberg:

Cooperstown may someday call. Think about that. Seven failures out of 10 and you're remembered as one of the greatest who ever lived. Only baseball can teach that lesson with a straight face. And then and then there are the bases, 90 feet apart, not 80, not 100, exactly 90.

OK Solberg:

Engineers, mathematicians, players, and historians have all noticed the same remarkable truth. Had the bases been even 10 feet further apart, the bang bang play at 1st would almost disappear.

OK Solberg:

Bunts would lose much of their drama. Double plays would become uncommon. Base stealing would become nearly impossible. Move them much closer. The runners would be safe far too often. 90 feet. 90 feet. Just enough room for hope.

OK Solberg:

Just enough room for suspense. Just enough room for history. Every close play, every cloud of dust, every desperate stretch by the 1st baseman, all balanced at a distance chosen more than a century ago. Some things don't need improving. Maybe that's why baseball endures.

OK Solberg:

Not because it's fast, not because it's loud, but because every game begins with possibility. No clock rushes the ending. No lead is completely safe. No child had ever said, let's go outside and race the clock. They've always said, let's play catch. Perhaps that's the real secret.

OK Solberg:

Baseball isn't merely a game we watch, it's a game we inherit. Passed on from grandparents to parents, from parents to children, from one worn leather glove to another long after the final out is recorded and the lights go dark, and the ground crews smooths the infield one more time, America keeps another score, not in runs, not in wins, but in memories.

OK Solberg:

And for a game built on failure, waiting dusty diamonds and 90 feet between dreams, that's a pretty remarkable victory. I agree. The end. You gotta love the game.

OK Solberg:

So until next time. As you go out there, remember now, don't be bitter.