feeling their pain

On the night of June 22, 2002, I was in a hotel room in Hershey, PA, watching the James Bond movie "The Spy Who Loved Me" on a local network station, when during a commercial break I overheard something that shocked me.
On Thursday morning I was sitting in my living room when similar news shocked me again, though, in a sad way, not nearly as much.
I cannot begin to understand how the family of Nick Adenhart is feeling right now. I cannot understand the emotions of his Los Angeles Angels teammates, his friends, and others who knew him.
But I do know a bit about what the Angels' fans are feeling, for what it's worth.
June 22, 2002 was the day that St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Darryl Kile was found dead in his hotel room in Chicago, the victim of a heart attack, as the Cards were in town to face the rival Cubs. It was that news that a local TV anchor announced during that commercial break, and when I heard it, I wondered if I had heard correctly. It was unbelievable. I don't know if I breathed from that point until many minutes later when I turned over the ESPN to find out what I thought I heard was true.
As a Cardinals fan, I will never forget seeing the video at Wrigley Field that afternoon, as a packed house of both teams' fans waited wondering why the game was delayed. Then Cubs catcher Joe Girardi stepped to a microphone, and with tears in his eyes, delivered the message. I may not remember it exactly, but very close.
"We regret to inform you that due to a tragedy in the Cardinals family, today's game has been canceled."
I get tears in my eyes thinking about it seven years later. This was the arch-rival, or would have been on any other day. But on that day, it simply did not matter.
I relived the experience two years ago, when Cardinals reliever Josh Hancock was killed in a drunk driving accident in April, 2007. Hancock had been a member of the World Series winning team the year before.
Ironically, it was when the Cubs were in St. Louis for a series.
Of course, I didn't know either Kile or Hancock. I never met them. I don't believe I ever saw either of them play in person.
And yet, in both cases, I felt deeply saddened by their deaths, more than others you hear about on the news.
It is a strange business, being a sports fan. You become completely invested in the lives of people you have never met, or at least a small portion of their lives. You watch them on TV, day-in and day-out, and they become a part of your life as a result. They become important on some level.
And yet, when you get right down to it, you don't know anything about them.
Kile was a star, one of my favorite pitchers on the team, and a big part of the Cardinals resurgence as a franchise in the 2000s. Hancock was the epitome of a role player, a mediocre middle reliever known for eating up innings.
Kile had done nothing wrong. He simply had a heart problem that had gone undiagnosed. Hancock was the victim of his own foolish act, getting behind the wheel after too much drinking.
I felt the death of each pretty intensely. Tears welled in my eyes multiple times, and still do as I recall those moments.
Tears welled in my eyes once again this week for Adenhart. The 22-year-old had just pitched the best game of his young career, and showed tremendous promise. He was not guilty of anything. He simply went out, and another driver, with an impressive track record to put it one way, took away the lives of him and two of his friends (with another still in the hospital and possibly the next to go).
I won't spend any more time passing judgement. I won't spend any more time eulogizing the dead, whom I know nothing of personally. I won't try to offer condolences to the family, friends and teammates of Adenhart. It would only come up short of its mark even if they were to read this. That's not what I can offer.
In 2002 and 2007, I read the online message boards. I listened on the radio and on TV. I heard a nation of fans speak of how saddened they were by the deaths of Kile and Hancock.
Mostly, I heard the fans of other teams, particularly the Cubs, put aside trivial rivalries and reach out to those whom they would normally detest. It made a difference.
So if you speak to an Angels fan this week, and wonder why they are truly, deeply hurt on a very sincere and heartfelt level, offer condolences. I cannot explain it fully. I cannot understand it any better myself. But I know their pain.
I weep, this week, for them.