When I spoke with Joe Carbone after his final game as head coach of the Ohio baseball team, the interview was the same as always — three-quarters conversation and a sliver of analytics.
He talked about the things he usually talks about: standout players, the game’s crucial moments and their corresponding decisions and what it all means in the big picture.
All season long, I agreed with what Carbone had to say, for the most part. But when he pulled out a semi-sarcastic line about how the loss was just another game, I had to disagree.
With the final “ping” of a bat, the flicker of a score on the LCD scoreboard, the crackle of interwoven stadium speakers and the flip of my voice recorder switch, I realized how different the scene was from when Carbone was first fitted for a green Ohio cap.
A quarter-century ago, the bat would have been made of wood, the score might have been rung up by hand, the announcer would echo from a pair of speakers behind home plate, and I would be furiously scribbling notes in a notebook.
But it’s less the change Carbone has seen during his tenure in Athens than what he’s left behind now that he’s moving on.
Carbone was dry-eyed during his last interview, while former player and associate coach Andrew See, Carbone’s potential successor, were doing their best to conjure their best impersonations of his stoicism.
See referenced his mentor as Carbone mentions the late Bob Wren on a regular basis. I could see the admiration in his eyes, though they were red and watery.
He called Carbone his best friend and explained, in a single thought, how much the 24-year veteran meant to him.
But then he pulled back and flashed a smile.
“He’s someone I’ve looked up to about how to do things the right way, and I’ll always cherish that. He won’t be lost as a friend right now,” See said. “Unfortunately, his career here is over.”
But really, it isn’t.
Since age 14, Carbone has wanted to be a coach. Decades of dedication don’t stop churning once a final paycheck has been mailed.
Whether or not he gives another sign from the third-base coaches box, Carbone will be a part of the game.
He might venture into professional baseball.
He might take a position managing a team from the front office.
He might manage a summer-league team.
But Carbone hates speculation. He is always quick to say that when one game stops, the next one begins without much carryover.
In the big scheme of things, though, there won’t be a void left where his presence used to be, but a remembrance of the lessons learned coupled with his successors’ new knowledge.
“Everything comes to an end, and this is his end,” See said.
In the typical sense, that’s true. But, even though Carbone won’t admit to carrying much of a legacy, his legacy will live on through his fellow coaches and players.
He’ll be missed, but his impact on the program won’t be lost for a day.
Carbone told me that when he was younger, he’d go to a tournament and watch 18 baseball games over the course of a weekend, come home late Sunday, eat dinner and flip on a professional game to round out the night.
Years of that kind of love show Carbone knows his stuff.
“Right now, I know more baseball than I ever have,” he said.
He went on to tell me that even though he wants to spend more time in the woods, hit the links more often and get back into trout fishing, baseball will always be a primary part of his wellbeing.
“Some people volunteer at the library or will volunteer at the hospital,” he said. “Maybe someday, I’ll volunteer at a Little League field.”
And even though he wouldn’t be able to impress his knowledge about hitting techniques and hardball heroics on the same level, those kids would be lucky. Not because they’d be the best team — Carbone won barely more than half his games as a coach — but because of the life lessons they learned.
It won’t be just another game.
jr992810@ohiou.edu
