I knew I needed to post a blog entry, but I really didn’t want it to be this one. I’m not going to lie, I had never heard of Nick Adenhart until this afternoon when my mom texted me during astronomy to tell me what happened. I’m sure I heard his name in passing on Baseball Tonight (sorry, MLB Network, I’m a loyalist), but I didn’t remember who he was when I surreptitiously read the story on my phone.
No matter if we know who it is or not, short-season A or major leagues, the loss of any member of our giant baseball family is a huge one. After all the stories about Plaxico Burress shooting himself in the leg and Pacman Jones being psycho, I can tell you that I would never feel the same about a random football player dying. I don’t know if it’s the whole Sabrina thing or if it’s the fact that one of the teachers at my school also passed away yesterday, but I felt this one bad. It was all I could do not to start crying in the middle of an explanation of active galactic nuclei. I feel like I’ve lost a friend, and I know I’m not the only one.
That’s what this game is about. Long “the American pastime,” a piece of wood and a leather ball have stitched our country together and kept it that way for centuries. It’s worked this way because that’s just how it works. Baseball brought me a great relationship with my dad, it got me talking to random people on Opening Day lamenting about how badly Roy Oswalt was doing, and it’s what made me spend 58 cents to mail an envelope to a guy across the country that I’ll never meet because he wanted a pocket schedule. I love all of you and it’s because of baseball.
May he rest in peace. We should all be praying for his family and friends and that the man who hit him receives justice.
photo courtesy of Reuters