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It’s just a big ol’ block of stone. It isn’t sculpted. It’s not bronzed or dipped in gold. It hasn’t been carved into the image of a football or a dude carrying a football. There are no corporate logos. Just simple black block letters embossed into three sides of the rectangular rock, reading “S.D.”, “N.D.” and “190 M.”

The quartzite it is made from is roughly a billion years old, exposed on the Earth’s surface by the flow of the Big Sioux River after its spigot was turned on more than 10,000 years ago. Yet this trophy is so young it couldn’t yet buy itself a drink if it wanted to. But somehow, in only 18 years, it has become as timeless as the forces that forged it, the rough-hewn reward for winning what might very well be college football’s most intense rivalry.

It is the Dakota Marker, and all 75 pounds of it will be hoisted this weekend on the floor of the Fargodome by either the North Dakota State Bison or the South Dakota State Jackrabbits. A pair of schools separated by only 190 miles (see: that “190 M” engraving), divided by a border that is watched over by the 800-pound, 130-year-old quarried ancestors of the trophy they fight to possess.

“The Marker would be special all on its own just because it’s so cool and the history behind it is amazing. It’s the story of the Dakotas,” Carson Wentz explained this summer when the Bison-turned-Washington Commanders quarterback was asked about the rivalry in which he went 2-0 as a starter. “But then you add what is at stake in this game, what always seems to be at stake in this game, and it just multiplies what the Marker means by a hundred.”

When the rivals kick off Saturday (3:30 PM ET, ESPN+), they will do so as the nation’s No. 1 (NDSU) and No. 2 (SDSU) teams in the FCS. The victor will seize an undisputed top ranking while moving into the inside lane for both the Missouri Valley Conference championship and home-field advantage throughout the FCS playoffs.

The Bison are seeking their mind-bending 10th FCS championship since 2011. The Jacks are still hunting their first, having lost the title game by two points just two seasons ago. This will be their 10th straight meeting as top-10 teams. Two of those came in the playoffs, the most recent an NDSU win in the national semifinals. North Dakota State has lost only two regular-season FCS games over the past two seasons, and both were Dakota Marker losses to the Jackrabbits. Last December it appeared the two teams might be on track for the ultimate postseason rematch in the national title game until SDSU lost to Montana State in the semis.

There are 18 North Dakotans on the Bison’s roster and three South Dakotans. On the Jackrabbits’ roster there are 29 South Dakotans and exactly zero players from “the state to the north.” NDSU linebackers coach Grant Olson won three national titles as an All-American Bison linebacker. SDSU quarterbacks coach Zach Lujan threw 29 TD passes as a Jack, and passing game coordinator Josh Davis still holds the school record with 16 catches in a single game. NDSU assistant coach Tyler Roehl was an All-American running back who ran for 263 yards against Minnesota in a Big Ten “money game.” SDSU assistant Jimmy Rogers registered 312 tackles and three forced fumbles as a Jackrabbits linebacker. One of those was via a head-in collision with Roehl, a turnover that all but clinched South Dakota State’s taking of the Dakota Marker in 2007. Now they match wits as offensive coordinator versus defensive coordinator.

“There’s a level of frustration because you can’t go back in time and redo what you did as a player,” says Roehl, visibly working hard not to furrow his brow as he talks more about the two Marker games he lost as a player than the one his team won. “But that’s why I am back. You can continue to work to have an impact on the game from a coach and continue to put our players in position to be successful. I respect them. I just really want to beat them.”

“It consumes me, to be honest,” Rogers confesses, sitting at a desk covered in old-school playbook pages. “Not hoisting the Marker. Don’t ask what that feels like because I’ve never done that. Not as a player or a coach. I let the other guys do that. I don’t want to be running to that and miss my favorite part.”

And, what’s that, Coach?

“Watching them walk off the field. Watching them have to leave that field knowing they have lost.”

Oh, damn. So, that’s how it is.

“We all know each other so well, maybe a little too well,” fourth-year NDSU head coach Matt Entz says with a laugh. “We recruit the same kids. So many of the guys I tried to sign are down there, and so many they tried to sign are up here. Years ago, I almost went to work for Coach Stig at SDSU. Imagine how different our worlds would be then, right? That’s how close this all is.”

“I think the measure of a true rivalry probably comes with the question how much do people talk about the game,” says John Stiegelmeier, aka “Coach Stig.”

Stiegelmeier is in his 26th season as head coach and his 36th straight year on the staff. The Selby, South Dakota, native is also a South Dakota State alum. “Here in Brookings, they talk about this game 365 days out of the year. It wasn’t always that way. But now, that is most definitely the case.”

To be clear, this game has roots that reach back nearly 120 years, to the first meeting of Dakota Agricultural College and North Dakota Agricultural College in 1903. They have played 112 times in all, and since 1919 the only years missing are the three years lost to World War II. But during the first century of their series, the matchup was largely venom-less, lukewarm at best, as each school’s biggest rival was the school featuring its name minus the “State”: the University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks and the University of South Dakota Coyotes.

As the 21st century rolled around, both NDSU and SDSU started looking at moves from NCAA Division II to what was then known as I-AA, now called FCS.

“What we realized very quickly was that if we were going to make that jump, we needed a partner to do it,” Stiegelmeier says. “We both agreed that we would do it together. So, we met at the border and shook on it.”

It is a moment that is so Dakotas it sounds completely made up, an image taken straight out of a “Yellowstone” script. A pair of college football coaches, a pair of athletic directors and a couple of university administrators, standing along an imaginary line on the Great Plains, leaning into the wind as they leaned in to shake hands.

“We stood right by one of the Dakota Markers when we had that meeting,” Stiegelmeier recalls. “So, when we decided this game needed a name and a trophy, the Dakota Marker, that was the only way to go.”

The Dakota Territory was incorporated in 1861, the northernmost section of land acquired by the United States in the Louisiana Purchase. As the 20th century approached, the territory was earmarked for statehood but was considered too large as it was, so it was split in half, north and south. There were, of course, vicious politics and infighting and resistance from both sides, but ultimately, on Nov. 2, 1889, President Benjamin Harrison signed the papers that made North and South Dakota separate states. He had been warned that the two states were already talking 19th century smack over which one of them would become a state first, so he requested that the documents be shuffled and their titles covered so that no one could accuse him of playing favorites.

The line chosen to split the states ran along the seventh standard parallel, found at 45°56’07” north latitude. But someone needed to show everyone where the border actually was. On Sept. 19, 1891, Charles Bates of Yankton, South Dakota, began that process, armed with surveyor’s tools and guided largely by the North Star above the prairie. A team of nine men located the tristate corner where Minnesota bumps up against both Dakotas. They dug a posthole and filled it with a 7-foot-long, 800-pound quartzite marker, carried over the plains and buried halfway. The part of the marker above ground was marked on its 10-inch-wide sides with “ND” to the north, “SD” to the south and mileage from the eastern starting point next to an “M.” This first marker included an added “IN.MT” for “initial monument.”

From there, Bates and his crew marched 360.57 miles, from Minnesota to Montana. It took a year. They battled pits of snakes, clouds of mosquitoes and a two-day snowstorm that covered their work under a 30-foot snowdrift. They spiked a total 720 markers into the earth, what Bates called “silent sentinels on the prairie” that were delivered by steamboat and train to be literally picked up by his team.

Over the next century, the Dakota Markers faded out of the memories of most Dakotans. Some sank into the ground under their own weight. Others were vandalized or dug up by angry farmers and Native Americans. Many were mistaken as fence posts or cemetery headstones. Eventually, volunteer groups were formed to try to save the markers that remained, but hundreds are likely gone forever.

A drive earlier this week to find the initial monument was met with curious questions from twilight combine operators and one woman who came out onto the front porch of her farmhouse to shout: “Keep going! The marker is down this path! I can’t believe you made it all the way out here in that car!”

“People who had lived here their entire lives had no idea what a Dakota Marker was, and this is coming from a guy who was born and raised here,” Stiegelmeier said. “Now they do. Thanks to a football game.”

Not just a football game. Maybe the grandest, grittiest football game played this season or any other, no matter what NCAA designation it might be played under. Neighbors. Frenemies. Divided by a line they must cross each fall in order to bring home a marker designed to show us where that line is. But connected by a Dakota DNA that is as unique as that trophy they fight for.

And we do mean fight.

“When this game started under the new idea of the Dakota Marker, we were all in this together, right? Kumbaya, let’s move up together and this will be fun. That lasted less than one game.” Jimmy Rogers speaks of the 2004 contest, in which the Jacks threw a missile of a 22-yard TD pass with 39 seconds to go, winning the initial Marker 24-21. “From then until now, they know we mean business and we know they mean business. To do what we want to do, win a national championship, we have to beat them. Honestly, to me, we have to beat them anyway. I don’t care if we’re 0-6 going into kickoff.”

“I’ve been a part of 18 of these and my record is 11-7,” Roehl says. “I think you know now that I recall the losses more than the wins. I recall the fact that they have won the Marker two straight.”

A vein starts to rise from Roehl’s neck as he talks. The same happens to Rogers. They both start recalling old games. The 2-point conversion for SDSU at the buzzer in ’08. Easton Stick in ’18. Wentz. College GameDay at both schools. Those four playoff games.

Roehl and Rogers both sit up straight. Both get tears in their eyes. Both of their faces turn a light shade of red. The hue is unmistakable. It’s the color of quartzite.

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Inside the shift in evaluating MLB draft catching prospects

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Inside the shift in evaluating MLB draft catching prospects

CHAPEL HILL, N.C. — It’s the top of the 11th inning of an early March baseball game at North Carolina. With a runner on first and two outs, a Coastal Carolina batter laces a single through the right side of the infield. The Tar Heels’ right fielder bobbles the ball, then slips. The runner barrels around third toward home, where catcher Luke Stevenson awaits.

The relay throw naturally takes Stevenson to the third base side of home plate, into the path of the runner diving headfirst. Stevenson slaps a tag between his shoulder blades, shows the umpire the mitted ball and erupts into a fist pump. The game remains tied. In the bottom half of the inning, UNC wins on a sacrifice fly.

The Tar Heels went on to claim an ACC title, where Stevenson was named MVP. They hosted and won an NCAA tournament regional, rose to No. 1 in Division I, then fell at home to Arizona in a super regional and missed returning to the Men’s College World Series for the second consecutive year. Days later, Stevenson, a draft-eligible sophomore, reported to Phoenix for the MLB combine. Depending on who you ask, Stevenson is the first or second-best pure catcher and a consensus mock top-35 pick for the 2025 MLB draft, which begins July 13 (6 p.m. ET on ESPN).

Stevenson and other catchers with MLB potential have long been evaluated on how well they manage pitchers, frame pitches and lead a team’s defense — including directing positioning and keeping runners from stealing and scoring. But MLB general managers and player personnel say dual-threat backstops such as Seattle’s Cal Raleigh, an AL MVP favorite, now rank as the standard bearers for players in the pipeline to baseball’s major leagues. The gap between a catcher with All-Star potential and one who could hold down the position at a replacement level is glaringly obvious.

What might not be so obvious, however, is just how much MLB’s 2023 rules changes are now influencing how the position is being taught, played, coached and scouted at all levels of the game — and just how much of a premium is being placed on the offensive abilities of catchers such as Stevenson or Coastal Carolina’s Caden Bodine, another likely early draft pick.

From high school and youth ball to college and the minor leagues, a shift has already begun. In fundamental ways, the value of the position itself is being reframed — and Stevenson is a fitting avatar for catchers joining the professional ranks at a time when their livelihoods are in flux, their success most likely dictated by their capacity to adapt to this new reality.

“I don’t want to say it’s a dying position, [but] the bar for a being a good catcher offensively is so low,” said one MLB director of amateur scouting. “You could be an everyday catcher if you hit .210 with 10 home runs. [But] if you hit .210 with 30 home runs and a Platinum Glove? You’re a superstar.”

Jim Koerner, USA Baseball’s director of player development, said it’s still imperative for catchers to wield “middle-infield hands” and a strong arm to be an MLB starter.

“[But] in five years,” he said, “once they institute robo umps, I think it’s going to be completely an offensive position.”

AHEAD OF THE 2023 MLB season, at the behest of on-field consultant and former Chicago Cubs and Boston Red Sox president Theo Epstein, the league instituted a slew of rule changes intended to energize a purportedly staling sport. Baseball banned defensive shifts, instituted a pitch clock, limited mound disengagements to two per plate appearance and widened the bases from 15 inches to 18 inches — all changes first tested in the minor leagues.

The dividends were immediate. In 2023, runners stole 3,503 bases and upped it to 3,617 last season, the most in 109 years and the third most in any MLB season. The average game time fell to 2 hours, 36 minutes in 2024, the quickest in 40 years. Attendance and television engagement records were set in 2023 and broken in 2024.

Just as quickly, it became harder for catchers to stop runners from stealing. Catchers faced an increase of nearly 12 and 14 more stolen base attempts a season in 2023 and 2024, respectively, than in 2022. Exchange times and pop times increased exponentially to compensate, as did the speed at which catchers throw on steal attempts. But runners are faster and — owed to new limited disengagements rules for pitchers — closer to their would-be stolen bases than ever.

From 2016 to 2022, the lowest average caught stealing percentage for a single season among qualified catchers was 22.28% in 2021. In 2023 it was 17.43% and, last season, it was 18.78%. Through July 7, MLB runners have stolen 1,947 bases, on pace to eclipse 2024’s total. The Minnesota Twins stole an MLB-low 65 bases in 2024; 14 teams already have more in 2025.

Jerry Weinstein, a Chicago Cubs catching consultant, said pitchers get the ball to the plate in the 1.3-second range, and catchers’ pop times are between 1.8 and 2.0 seconds.

“There’s nothing we can do to improve that, that’s a staple,” Weinstein said. “The average runner runs 3.35, one-tenth of a second for the tag … it’s a math problem. If the baserunner is perfect, and the catcher and pitcher are perfect based on those parameters, the guy’s going to be safe most of the time. Which is exactly what we’re seeing.”

But one MLB director of player development said even with the rise in stolen bases’ effect on strategy, the best batteries still control how efficiently they get outs.

“From an analytic standpoint, swinging the count in your favor is more valuable than defending the stolen base,” the player development director said. “Ninety feet matters in certain situations, [but] some teams don’t even care. They’d rather have a guy execute his stuff: High leg kick, deliver the stuff, go for the punch out.”

Behind the plate, he said, there’s a different catching archetype than there was 25 years ago. They’re now bigger, taller and can get under the ball with a one-knee-down stance behind the plate. But, unlike the days when an offensive juggernaut catcher was a rarity — Mike Piazza and Carlton Fisk, or dual-threats like Johnny Bench, Ivan Rodriguez and Yogi Berra — now an adept offensive catcher can separate himself from a logjam.

“If you can’t hit,” he said, “you’re going to have a hard time sticking around.”

From both 1991-1998 and 1999-2007, there were eight MLB catchers (at least 50% of games at catcher) with three or more .800 OPS, 10-home run, 50-RBI seasons. From 2008-2015, that number fell to five. From 2016 through 2024, there were three.

“The offensive product is incredibly low, the physical demands very high, and what we value in catching has changed so much and is on the precipice of changing again,” said a director of amateur scouting. “We put so much value on catchers being able to frame pitches and get extra strikes … and the minute that goes away, that drastically changes how we evaluate amateur and professional catchers.”

When organizations find offensive-minded catchers who are capable behind the plate, they tend to hold onto them.

“It’s getting harder and harder to find those guys that are really offensive, they’re few and far between,” a director of amateur scouting said. “You name one, then I’ll name one. I guarantee it’s going to be a short list.”

Another director of amateur scouting said part of what makes some catchers in this year’s draft so valuable is that they can catch and potentially be a standout offensive performer.

“You don’t want [a catcher you draft in the first round] to have a position change a year and a half down the road,” the scout said. “You’re going to move him to first base or left field, and now the offensive bar is so much higher there.”

Which is why some MLB scouts are high on Stevenson and think he can handle the adjustments the position now requires. He was steady behind home plate for North Carolina, a great blocker but below-average receiver. But it’s what the 6-foot-1, 210-pound, left-handed hitting All-America catcher did with his bat that has drawn the attention of MLB scouts: Among Division I catchers who have caught 90 games since 2024, Stevenson ranked second in home runs (33), third in runs (104) and sixth in OPS (.960). He drew 29 more walks (107) than any other catcher while having the second-best chase rate (17.2%) and second-most pitches per plate appearance (4.09).

Although some MLB scouts and player development personnel have raised questions about Stevenson’s glove and whether he could thrive behind the plate at the sport’s top level, others say his power and discerning eye come at such a premium that defensive concerns are secondary and correctable. One director of amateur scouting said Stevenson’s floor is backup catcher at the MLB level.

One executive of a team with a top-10 draft pick said Stevenson is in the mix that high because his defensive technique is easily adjustable, but an eye and bat like that at a position such as catcher is too rare to pass up.

“You could be an outstanding defensive catcher, but if you can’t hit a lick, it’s hard to make a roster as an everyday player,” he said.

“Hardest position to evaluate,” another director of amateur scouting said, “amateur catcher.”

He compared the predraft evaluation to college quarterbacks trying to play in the NFL: “Can you transition? With edge rushers, you have less than three seconds to get rid of the ball — same for a catcher, you want him to be better than two and to be able to throw it on the bag. Guys that are 1.78, 1.83, 1.85? They can get away with a higher throw, but the 2.0 guys have to be perfect. It takes a special human being to do it and do it for many years.”

Steve Rodriguez, Stanford University’s catching coach, was Trevor Bauer and Gerritt Cole’s catcher at UCLA before spending six seasons in the Atlanta Braves and Arizona Diamondbacks organizations. He lauded Stevenson’s prowess with a bat and said he is underrated behind the plate.

“[With] his ability and size to be light on his feet and his knees … I watch him and he can scrape the dirt with that knee down so easily: That means his balance and flexibility is at a high level,” Rodriguez said. “When you’re able to do that with the skill set he has with his hands, you have a pretty phenomenal player.”

Stevenson said UNC catching coach Jesse Wierzbicki, a former UNC starting catcher who played in the Houston Astros minor league system, hammered receiving and blocking drills all season — footwork, transfers to second base, stealing strikes. He also had inspiration at home.

“You’ve got eight guys staring at you, being a leader on that field, directing traffic,” Stevenson said. “I was probably 8 years old — my mom caught, so I was always wearing the gear — when I fell in love with it. It’s what I wanted to do.”

ON A FRIGID Tuesday morning in March, more than 50 high school boys in full uniform took the field at the USA Baseball Complex in Cary, North Carolina, with Jim Koerner in the stands. Koerner develops on-field programming and curriculum for USA Baseball’s 13- to 17-year-old teams and is one of amateur American baseball’s most important barometers. His son, Sam, 18, catches for Pro5 Academy’s Premier team, an elite developmental academy.

Scattered around the diamond were players committed to Old Dominion and NC State, Virginia Tech and UNC, Ohio State and Tulane. Haven Fielder, the San Diego State-bound son of Prince Fielder, is Pro5’s designated hitter. Sam committed to Division I Radford University in Virginia. Almost all of them take remote classes and rarely, if ever, attend high school in-person.

The elder Koerner said it’s a moment of extreme change, both for the beloved sport that has long been his livelihood and the position his son fell in love with. From a young age, Sam showed a natural lean toward catching, but Jim said he urged Sam toward the position he thought would provide the best chance of a prosperous baseball life.

Now he’s not so sure.

Twenty years ago, Jim Koerner said, catchers were as still as possible; now, framing and throwing are more important than blocking, and passed balls are skyrocketing.

His son, like Stevenson, is a left-hitting catcher. Sam is just shy of 6 feet and defensively gifted with a plus-arm. He also hits well for contact. He situationally adapts his catching stance: one knee down if the bases are empty, traditional with runners on. Sam said, even with the position under siege, it’s easier to throw out of that. Anything to tip the scales.

“[Sam] has aspirations, like a lot of young kids,” Jim Koerner said. “It’s hard to tell young kids, ‘Hey, man, you’re a really good receiver … but in five years, that might not matter. Just focus on your arm and hitting.'”

Sammy Serrano, Sam’s catching coach and a second-round draft pick in the 1998 MLB draft, said he isn’t worried about Sam or how he’ll adapt to rule changes. Serrano said Sam has an extremely high baseball IQ and he “just happens to be the catcher.”

During a game this spring, Sam Koerner took a relay from right field, swiped his mitt across the plate and waited: Runner out. Seconds later, he was in the dugout asking Serrano, what he could do to improve his timing and technique. It was a good play, but Sam isn’t interested in only good.

“He always wanted to [be a catcher],” his father said. “Two or three years old, he’d squat down in front of the TV and I’d be like, ‘Hey Sam … whatcha doin’?’

“He’d just point at the catcher on TV.”

DAVID ROSS’S WARM laugh spilled through a cellphone speaker when asked how well he would fare as a catcher in today’s MLB.

“I probably wouldn’t have a job,” he said. “I hit .180 my last year in Boston and I laughed: I got a two-year deal. I had a couple of deals on the table. That would’ve never happened early in my career when framing wasn’t a thing.”

Ross’s career was extended by his proclivity in the margins.

“When I was coming up, you had holds, hold pick, pitchouts, slide steps, four or five different signs from coaches that would help you manage the running game,” he said. “Well, that turned into nobody wanted to run anymore because the percentages didn’t match up. Now you see all these teams building with legit base stealers and athletes.”

After retiring following their 2016 World Series victory, Ross became a special assistant with the Cubs, then worked as an ESPN analyst before becoming the Cubs’ manager from 2020 to 2023, the first season under the rule changes. He is torn on some elements of the changes and changes that still might come, such as the Automated Ball-Strike system already implemented in MiLB that MLB tested this spring training.

“As a player, it’s a hard job, mistakes cost games, so, I love the challenge system because you’re going to keep the beauty of the game,” Ross said. “I don’t think we’ll get away from — you’re still going to be teaching kids about receiving, blocking, throwing, calling the game, the little intricacies of baseball. I don’t think that’s going to go away. Even with all the analytics, you still need a sense of feel back there.

“But offense has won out.”

Two-time All-Star catcher Jonathan Lucroy was an offense-first catcher out of college who became an analytic darling of the mid-2010s for his ability to frame pitches.

A mid-2000s ESPN feature on Lucroy pointed to then-Cubs general manager Epstein’s savvy in being an early adopter to the framing movement, which included the signing of Ross. Ironically, it’s the same aspect of the game Epstein might undo if an ABS system is implemented.

“Framing will be so devalued because of the advent of the ABS system and they’ll be prioritizing the offensive side of the position even more,” Lucroy said. “I’m biased, but I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

Lucroy predicted that the bedrocks of the position will remain.

“The most important part of the position is the game management and leadership,” he said. “There’s a lot of psychology that goes into it: How different guys communicate, how they receive information, take it in, apply [it]. You can’t take a paint brush and swipe it across and everyone does it the same way.”

Lucroy got to know his pitchers, learn about their families, how they respond to constructive criticism.

“How do you go out and speak to them properly to reel them in? Get them to change stuff up, change their thought process?” Lucroy said. “Are they a hand-hold guy? Do you have to tell them everything’s good, breathe, slow it down? The majority of guys are like that. On the flip side, a guy like Max Scherzer you can go out and yell at him, insult him a bit, and he responds positively.”

Lucroy said Jason Kendall once told him that the best catchers were also the best communicators, that their job is to make the pitcher look as good as possible.

‘”Make them more important than you,'” Lucroy recalled. “You want them to trust you and believe in you, like any other relationship. ‘Cause 99% of the time, guys don’t feel the best when they go out and play.”

Lucroy said catchers will adapt to the rule changes, because they always do. Lucroy said he thinks once an ABS system is instituted, catchers will go back into a more traditional stance, which means they’ll block balls better and throw out more runners.

But having experienced an analytics revolution himself, he worries about coming into an MLB transitioning between eras.

“The game is always shifting, always evolving,” Lucroy said. “If you go back and look at 2016, remember how the Cubs had Willson Contreras back there? And they put in David Ross. Why? Because David Ross is a veteran who ended up being a future manager who knows what the heck he’s doing and how to handle guys in big situations.”

Lucroy said he doesn’t think that’s an accident.

“Framing is important, to a certain extent,” he said, “but the best framers in the world aren’t catching in the World Series — the better offensive guys are. Even the years when I was one of the top framers in the league, I think I made the playoffs once.”

SAM KOERNER’S PRO5 TEAM took on a Canadian baseball academy at a minor league stadium in Holly Springs, North Carolina. The bases were wider — Sam called them “pizza boxes” — than those at the USA Baseball complex, so they stole more often here.

Sam was one of three catchers on the roster that day, and the only one committed to a college. He didn’t play until the eighth inning, and when he finally got to bat, he cranked the first pitch over the right field wall. It nearly hit a car on the adjacent NC 55 roadway.

His dad rushed to pull the video — it was Sam’s third in-game home run ever — but the camera was off.

In the press box afterward, Sam said he’s taking a gap year. He’ll enroll at Radford in the fall of 2026 and play with Pro5 until then, maximizing his growth literally and technically.

Sam doesn’t have to contend with new MLB-type rules yet, but if aspiration meets opportunity, he soon will.

“It’s already a challenge trying to hold runners on [even] though the rule changes aren’t affecting me,” Sam said. “I don’t know what else [catchers] could do. I’m just tryin’ to be as fast as I can to second base, on the bag.”

In working with thousands of players and coaches across the U.S., Jim Koerner said MLB’s rules changes haven’t been adopted at the youth levels, which means they haven’t directly altered how youth ball is played — yet. But for Sam and his peers, and even younger players, making it to an NCAA baseball team and eventually to MLB are the goals.

“The way pro evaluators are going to look at the catching position is going to start to change now,” Koerner said. “But on the flip side, when you value the guy on the mound as much as he’s valued now at the professional level, they still need to trust the guy catching. There’s still a confidence, a comfort, a leadership aspect.”

It’s the aspect Sam prides himself on most and what Lucroy said was invaluable.

“Building good relationships with my pitchers, always having their back,” Sam said. “It makes them perform better knowing they have a guy behind the plate where they can, even as simple as 0-2, they can spike a brick in the dirt and know I’m going to pick ’em up and block it and throw the guy out at first.”

At lunch in between his game and a weightlifting session, Sam inhaled a Philly cheesesteak. He buzzed while breaking down the catching techniques of Cincinnati’s Jose Trevino and San Francisco’s Patrick Bailey. He also acknowledged that during a game earlier, his middle finger got caught asking for a curveball and he took a 90-mile-per-hour fastball in the chest plate.

Jim said it’s just how Sam is; there is no version of him absent of catching.

“When he was 7 or 8, he’d get back there and see these big guys come to hit and … he’d be excited but he’d look at me like…” Jim said, his eyes going wide.

“I was scared to death,” Sam said.

“But he eventually warmed up to it,” Jim said, smiling.

They fell into a cadence, starting and finishing each other’s anecdotes. They’ve chosen a baseball life, devoid of free time. Jim wishes he were home more often, and Sam might as well live in catching gear. Recently, they tried to game-plan on a rare, shared day off. They couldn’t decide what to do. Eventually, Jim pitched batting practice to Sam.

“[At a] concert the other day, one of the guys was tellin’ a story about fishing, being out there with his daughter and she’s thinking, ‘We’re going fishing?’ The guy says, ‘It’s not … just fishing,'” Jim said.

“When I ask Sam, ‘Hey, do you wanna hit? You wanna go lift?’ For him, it might be just baseball.”

Suddenly, a knock came on the press box door to vacate. Sam and Jim turned in their chairs and shared a glance.

“Well, for me,” Jim said, packing up, “it’s not just baseball.”

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Pirates ball-crusher Cruz accepts HR Derby invite

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Pirates ball-crusher Cruz accepts HR Derby invite

Pittsburgh Pirates center fielder Oneil Cruz accepted an invitation on Tuesday to compete in Monday’s Home Run Derby in Atlanta.

Cruz is the fifth player to commit to the competition, held one day before the All-Star Game. The others are Ronald Acuna Jr. of the Atlanta Braves, Cal Raleigh of the Seattle Mariners, James Wood of the Washington Nationals and Byron Buxton of the Minnesota Twins.

Cruz, 26, is known for having a powerful bat and regularly delivers some of the hardest-hit homers in the sport. His home run May 25 at home against the Milwaukee Brewers had an exit velocity of 122.9 mph and was the hardest hit homer in the 10-year Statcast era.

But Cruz has never hit more than 21 in a season, and that was in 2024. He’s on track to set a new high this year and has 15 in 80 games.

Cruz has 55 career homers in 324 games with the Pirates.

Cruz will be the first Pittsburgh player to participate in the Derby since Josh Bell in 2019. Other Pirates to be part of the event were Bobby Bonilla (1990), Barry Bonds (1992), Jason Bay (2005), Andrew McCutchen (2012) and Pedro Alvarez (2013).

Overall, Cruz is batting just .203 this season but leads the National League with 28 steals.

Among the players to turn down an invite to the eight-player field are two-time champion Pete Alonso of the New York Mets, Kyle Schwarber of the Philadelphia Phillies and 2024 runner-up Bobby Witt Jr. of the Kansas City Royals.

Defending champion Teoscar Hernandez of the Los Angeles Dodgers recently turned down a spot as a consideration to nagging injuries.

Top power threats Aaron Judge of the New York Yankees and Shohei Ohtani of the Dodgers also are expected to skip the event.

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Yanks moving Chisholm back to 2B after 3B stint

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Yanks moving Chisholm back to 2B after 3B stint

New York Yankees All-Star Jazz Chisholm Jr., after making 28 starts in a row at third base, is moving back to second base starting with Tuesday’s game against the Seattle Mariners, manager Aaron Boone said.

Boone confirmed the change on the “Talkin’ Yanks” podcast on Tuesday.

Chisholm, who is batting .245 with 15 home runs, 38 RBIs and 10 steals in 59 games, has recently been bothered by soreness in his right shoulder, which he said is an issue only on throws.

He said he prefers to play second base and prepared in the offseason to exclusively play in that spot before injuries played havoc with Boone’s lineup card, starting with Chisholm’s oblique injury in May.

Third baseman Oswaldo Cabrera went down with a season-ending ankle injury on May 12.

DJ LeMahieu manned second base while Chisholm was at third, but Boone has a better glove option in Oswald Peraza, a utility man with a stronger arm plus defensive skills across the infield.

LeMahieu, 36, is batting .266 with two home runs and 12 RBIs this season.

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