I don’t think it would be possible for anyone closely involved with a minor-league baseball club – be it a team employee, a season-ticket holder or, yes, a reporter in the press box – to not feel a connection with the players to some degree.

I knew I was watching something special as I watched Eric Young Jr. tear around the basepaths. So it’s fun to hear his new manager talk about him the way Jim Tracy did on Thursday. He talked about how speed kills, how Cincinnati bungled a play by trying to rush it because Young was racing down the line and how that started a game-changing rally.

Now I never hit a fungo in Young’s direction. I never helped set up his profile page in the media guide or even applauded one of his great plays. But I did talk with him on many occasions about his past, his future and about his unique abilities. I observed as he set team records and showed me the way blinding speed can change plays that change innings that change games.

I think I’ll continue observing as he tries to stick at the next level.

But Young wasn’t the only one who drew my interest.

I was legitimately happy for Mike McCoy when he was called up earlier this week. Here’s a guy whose career almost ended last year out of pure exhaustion as he and his wife struggled to care for newborn twins on a paltry salary while he endured the brutality of a minor-league schedule. Now McCoy is about to make somewhere in the neighborhood of $60,000 to live his dream for a month.

I didn’t get to know McCoy all that well, our conversations were mostly two- or three-minute talks about the game that just ended. I was usually on deadline and he was usually annoyed to talk to a small-town reporter. But I did see those little boys play in the clubhouse and on the field after games. I’m happy for McCoy that he’ll have the money to provide for that family and that for the rest of their lives those two little boys will be able to boast that their dad made it to the major leagues.

It was pretty cool to be around that.

It was also cool to see Carlos Gonzalez lay out his arsenal of skills one by one. First his speed, then his arm and finally his bat.

I reminded myself on a couple of occasions that his game might be elevated because of the elevation. But compared to everyone else playing on the same field he was simply different.

I talked with him about his frustration with being stuck in the minor leagues and how he couldn’t wait to get back up to prove that his failures a year ago in Oakland were not indicative of his talent.

So it’s been a treat to catch him on SportsCenter, watching him emerge as a star.

There were more personalities that I’ll remember, of course. Paul Phillips — before the frustrations of a late-season collapse — was gracious and very real, Joel Peralta was generous with his time and Matt Miller was just plain cool. Josh Fogg and Jason Hirsh were hilarious, Adam Eaton was delightfully strange and Alan Johnson seemed so afraid to fail. Brandon Hynick struck me as the kind of person who would be successful at anything, and because he chooses to play baseball I think he’ll find a way to make it work despite any perceived shortcomings in natural talent. Talking baseball with Sal Fasano reminded me of talking writing with my favorite professor at the University of Kansas in the way that both had a complete understanding of their craft. Fasano will be a manager in the major leagues one day.

I’m still not a Sky Sox fan, per se. I stayed impartial enough that my interest in the pennant chase went nowhere beyond wondering what my work schedule might look like for a few weeks in September.

What engrossed me were those stories, those players on the way up, on the way out or on the way to figuring out if they were on the way up or out.

So am I interested to see how these stories unfold? You bet. Does that make me a poor journalist? I hope not, because I can’t possibly imagine it any other way.

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