Honoring Nick Adenhart

As I did my work on the treadmill at the Hagerstown Extra Innings Thursday morning, watching SportsCenter as I walked, I discovered that the Angels-Athletics game from the night before had a distinctly local flavor for me.  I saw that Brad Ziegler, a former New Market Rebel, had saved the game for the A's and that Nick Adenhart, who graduated one year ahead of Becky from Williamsport High School, had thrown 6 scoreless innings in his 4th major league start for the Angels.  Extra Innings was full of kids who were out of school for Easter break.  One group was in a cage learning proper footwork on infield throws, while another was learning the fine art of bunting.  I finished my workout and left for home and what had started out as a very cold morning was turning into a beautiful, warm spring day.

It was on the radio that I heard the news that Adenhart had been killed by a hit-and-run driver not long after the Angels' game had ended.

Williamsport is handling the tragedy as best we can.  A candlelight vigil was held last night at the high school baseball field and this morning's paper contains a front page tribute to Nick.

It is interesting how particularly we are affected when such tragedies befall our athletes.  I have no doubt that it's because they embody perhaps the most valuable commodity known to humanity:  Hope.  They are actually living out their childhood dreams.  As such, those young men out there on the diamond are proof that Hope is real and that Dreams do come true.  We can't get enough of them and so we study how they bat and we collect their signatures as proof that we were in the presence of one who Made It.  Our childhood dreams live on through their accomplishments and when tragedy befalls them, we are reminded that we are not children anymore.  And when tragedy befalls one who came from our town, who was one of us, and therefore, who lived and validated our dreams, the grief is that much more intense.

We can console ourselves with the fact that a drunken driver may have taken Nick's life, but not even Fate can take away that final box score or his listing in the Baseball Encyclopedia.  And so his childhood dream has become immortal.

There is only one proper way, however, for us to remember Nick Adenhart or anyone else who has ever meant anything to us and that is to Live.  In other words, the next time you play catch with your best friend or your dad or your daughter, take a moment, and take in the joy of what you're doing:  Watch the ball as it arcs across a blue sky and zips along the green grass, smell that glove, sense your blood flowing through your arm.  Don't just stand in the sunshine, feel it on your face, take it in, revel in it.  Laugh and run.  And take one moment, one is all that is needed or required, and think of Nick.  You can do him and the others who died with him no greater honor.

Comments

[Becky]

Thanks for writing this. I was hoping that you would but I didn't want to ask you to because I figured it would be better if I was just surprised with what you wrote. Very nicely put...I'm glad you guys are coming down this weekend.

[Melissa Dodge]

Very eloquently stated. May Nick's story continue to inspire hope in those who dream and work toward their heart's desires. May his loss be a reminder to all of the fragility and precious nature of life. Live each moment to it's fullest and treasure your loved ones. Prayers and blessings are extended to the Adenhart family, his community, and the Angels organization.