Brooks Oosterhout isn’t a household name, but in certain corners of the world—small-town Pacific Northwest baseball circles, a handful of local record stores, and the archives of a defunct indie film festival—he’s something close to a legend.
“Why?”
He stared at it for a week. Then he quit the diner, packed a bag, and started walking south. brooks oosterhout
The old man picked up a bucket of baseballs. “Because I have one pitch left in this arm. And I’m tired of being the one who walked.” Brooks Oosterhout isn’t a household name, but in