ShareThisThere were 45,050 empty seats at Angel Stadium on Thursday, and many, many more empty hearts throughout the oft-insulated world of baseball.
Tragedy around a place like this always catches us by surprise. Strong, vibrant 22-year-old athletes don't die.
Thursday told us otherwise. Stunned fans made treks throughout the day to leave flowers, rally monkeys, teddy bears, loving messages and religious icons in front of the ballpark, instead of watching the Angels play Oakland.
Likewise, they flocked to the crash scene in nearby Fullerton where the team's rookie pitcher, Nick Adenhart, and two other young adults were killed by a driver that police say was driving drunk, hours after the right-hander threw six shutout innings in his fourth major league start.
How could this be?
Angels general manager Tony Reagins used words like "disbelief" and "shock" in a late morning news conference, two emotions a lot of people were wrestling with on a gray April day.
"We didn't believe it," said Trayc Hanmer of Orange, Cailf., who had gone to Wednesday night's game with her 8-year-old daughter and came back to the ballpark 16 hours later to leave flowers. "We wanted to pay respects and let him know people care. You just don't expect him to be pitching a game, and then he's gone."
There's no way to prepare for this kind of heartache, of course, even in an organization that has had more than its share.
There was a time when the Angels were known as much for sorrow than anything they ever did on a field. Two Angels prospects and infielder Chico Ruiz were killed in car crashes in the 1970s. In 1978, All-Star outfielder Lyman Bostock was shot and killed.
Relief pitcher Donnie Moore -- supposedly still haunted by the home run he surrendered in 1986 when the Angels were one out away from the World Series -- shot himself three years later.
This past January, longtime scout and consultant Preston Gomez died from the lingering affects of a freak accident he suffered in Blythe, Calif. in March 2008 after leaving spring training. The Angels are wearing a sleeve patch in his honor this season. Presumably there will be another one.
Baseball, of course, isn't as escapist as we'd like to think. Monday night, after the opener, a fight in the stadium left a fan dead.
Thursday, the tragedy was national news, a strange day with rare emotion. Adenhart's agent, Scott Boras, often portrayed as icily calculating, was anything but at the press conference, breaking down while describing the pitcher's pride over his last, and best, outing.
Not surprisingly, the Angels and the A's postponed their game, a fitting pause for grieving players. Maybe a fitting pause for us, too, if only just to squeeze our own loved ones a little tighter.
Angels fan Evan Guyer of Tustin, Calif. brought his 13-year-old son to the stadium late Thursday afternoon, using baseball, as he sometimes does, to teach a life lesson.
"We love baseball so much," Guyer said. "I wanted him to see how the people are like a family."
Friday night the Angels will resume their young season against Boston, rejoining the rest of the sports world, which never skipped a beat Thursday. Tiger Woods played in the Masters. Andrew Bynum's imminent return to the Lakers had its faithful buzzing.
Life, and its fun and games, went on.
For the Angels, it will be harder, coping with death so close. But they will come around. There is nothing else to do. The stadium will fill up again, standings will matter, and the sadness will wash away.
Adenhart will be remembered, unfortunately, not for the greatness he was doggedly pursuing, but for the fragility of life. We should recall him from time to time, and remind ourselves that nothing is guaranteed. Heartbreakingly, not even to a 22-year-old who seemingly had his whole, wonderful career stretching out in front of him.
(Reach Gregg Patton at gpatton@PE.com.)
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
columnMust credit The Press-Enterprise of Riverside, Calif.
