I was sitting on a bus with 25 of my teammates. The young men who form the Ithaca College baseball team were on their way to Binghamton University to play our only scrimmage of the fall season. Joking around, talking about classes, playing music as usual… Until a voice cut through the exuberance like a hot knife through butter.
“Holy shit, Jose Fernandez died…”
I did not know which of my teammates uttered those words. I frantically opened Twitter on my phone, hoping it wouldn’t be true. A few taps later, my screen was filled with innumerable eulogies in 140 characters or less. That character limit was ironic, as they were used to describe someone whose unquantifiable character permeated Major League Baseball and its fans.
I am a 22 year-old pitcher. I love and respect the game of baseball and what it represents more than anything. At this moment, it has been just over two months since my second ACL reconstruction surgery in as many years. People ask me why I don’t just give up playing baseball altogether? If Jose Fernandez had known me, he would not have needed to ask me that question.
While I can’t throw 98 mph fastballs past major league hitters, there is one thing in particular that Mr. Fernandez and I share: An undeniable, unfaltering, wholehearted love for the game of baseball.
In an era of professional baseball so driven by money, Jose reminded us all that even at baseball’s very highest level of competition, it is still just baseball. A game that has stood the test of time, and is seen reflecting in the glossy eyes of aspiring players such as myself. A game played by tens of thousands of boys and girls of all ages across the world — A game.
As we sat on the bus traveling to play our game Sunday, we did our best to understand and soak in this terrible news. Our team is comprised of young Mets fans, Yankee fans, Red Sox fans, even some Orioles fans, all of whom loved Jose Fernandez, because he wasn’t just a Marlin. To me, a Mets fan, he wasn’t just the ace of a rival team. He was a man. He was his smile. He was his knee-buckling slider, his hugs in the dugout when he left a game. He transcended the definition of a pitcher, and he transcended the expectations of a baseball player.
This is just another reminder of how fragile life is. How one day I can be fooling a batter with a curveball, and the next day, well, who knows? When most people pass away, a message of “live life to the fullest” is spread. In this case, I want to heed that message, as well as take it a step further:
Enjoy baseball to the fullest, as Jose Fernandez did. It didn’t matter that he played for the Marlins, all that mattered to him was that he played. If you’re watching a game, remember that while you may be a Red Sox fan rooting against the Yankees or a Mets fan rooting against the Cardinals, you are watching baseball. Enjoy the game, no matter what the score is, or who is playing.
To love baseball is to love Jose Fernandez. The Marlins will retire #16, and rightfully so. He must be remembered by everyone. Not only for his outstanding statistics, but for who he was, and how he played baseball: The right way.
My thoughts are with the Fernandez family, his friends, his teammates, and everyone whose heart sank upon hearing the news of his untimely death. It will take a lot to mend this wound, but the 108 stitches on a baseball should be a good start.
Rest in peace, Jose. I will always look up to you as a pitcher, as a baseball player, and as a person.
Follow me on Twitter @LBarer32
