Eight-or-so years I’ve known Troy Barnies, and he’s thanked me at least a dozen times. Did it again Friday.

That would be noteworthy and praiseworthy enough on its own. Etiquette isn’t it used to be. Neither is the relationship between athletes and journalists, which is more adversarial than amicable these days.

When the star athlete never flexes a star attitude, doesn’t mumble, maintains eye contact, treats everyone with respect and has never lollygagged a play in his life, it’s easy to reply “my pleasure” and mean it.

Barnies boards a plane tonight, bound for Europe, handpicked to be one of the few and the proud: A real, live professional basketball player from Maine.

Not long after the phone conversation that conveyed some of the coolest breaking news I’ve heard in a long time, it dawned on me.

I — make that we, as in all of us who have played a tiny role in Barnies’ evolution from gangly high school freshman to confident man — should be thanking him. So here goes.

Thank you, Troy, for demonstrating that Maine isn’t the place where personal, professional and athletic aspirations go to die.

From the father of a teenager with boundless energy and a limitless imagination, thank you for reassuring us parents that when we tell our kids they can accomplish anything to which they devote their heart, mind, body and soul, it isn’t merely hollow daydreaming.

In a world starved for real role models, thank you for giving us one in the 207 who has proven worthy of our trust and our young people’s admiration.

Our country is mired in an economic morass. A few of us have lost our jobs. Some of us have dipped into our life savings in a desperate bid to makes ends meet. Many of us wear our cynicism about the decreasing value of an honest day’s labor on our sleeves. Thank you for confirming that hard work and earnest faith in your dreams may still reap just rewards.

Barnies isn’t the first world-class or professional athlete from Auburn. He’s not the only Mainer to shoot and dribble and collect a paycheck for it. But there is something inspiring about the way Barnies reached this point.

Bigger, stronger guys armed with a longer list of apologists attempted this journey and fell flat on their faces. Barnies didn’t have a phalanx of AAU coaches, scouting services or other hangers-on cramming his certain superstardom up our nose from the time he entered high school.

If those voices were in Barnies’ ear, he had the wisdom beyond his years to drown them out and tune into the guidance of his Edward Little High School coach, Mike Adams.

Four straight appearances in the Eastern Maine finals and counting, EL fans probably have figured this out, but let me stamp it in your mind just in case: You are supremely blessed to have that coach challenging, inspiring and leading your young men.

Coach, teachers and parents developed a boy who was unselfish to a fault. And when things went sour, as they too often did for EL at tourney time in those days, we never, ever, saw Barnies sulk, smirk, shout to the rafters or sell out any of his teammates.

Barnies’ next refreshing choice was his acceptance of a basketball scholarship at the University of Maine.

Too many of our kids run to the allure of a larger program in a warmer climate, only to sit forever. Maine provided a place where Barnies could play early, play often and play in some of college hoop’s most legendary arenas while representing his home state.

You’ll never hear me say Barnies couldn’t have made it to the floor if he gambled on a colorful recruiting pitch from a Big East or Atlantic-10 school. But there’s a strong chance we wouldn’t be talking about him playing pro ball in Istanbul if he’d gone that route. Being a Black Bear afforded Barnies the opportunity to grow and develop in a less intimidating environment. It was a perfect fit.

I’ve covered a few great athletes, but not one who underwent more of an evolution from age 14 to 22.

I’ve heard many basketball players hailed as gym rats, but haven’t met one who worked harder.

I walk past hundreds of people of every day who fell in love with a child’s game and swore it would become their profession one day, but I only know one who will be flying halfway around the world tonight to make it happen.

Thank you, Troy. On behalf of everyone who’s had the chance to know you as an athlete and as a person, thanks for everything.

— Kalle Oakes is a staff columnist. His email is [email protected].