There are several tragic stories that are hard to believe, but this is the one that caught my attention recently. Nick Adenhart, a 22-year-old pitcher for the Anaheim Angels, passed away early Thursday morning.
Wednesday night he pitched his first game of the season. He threw 6 shutout innings, about as good as you can ask from a new pitcher. A few hours later he was dead, one of three victims killed in a hit-and-run incident by a drunk driver who ran a red light. My heart goes out to the families of the other victims. I don't even know their names. All I know so far is about Adenhart, a young kid from Maryland who got his dad to fly out to see the game, even telling him "You better come here because something special is going to happen." You can read about it here, in better writing than mine.
Can you imagine his dad, who was the first to reach him after the accident? Can you imagine his mom, who wasn't there for her son's last game? What about his teammates, who had high-fived him just a couple of hours before the accident, certain they had a future star on their team? What about the fans who had just watched him, live or on television, ready to read or watch or listen to the news the next morning about his debut, only to find out the news was about something else entirely? What a tragic loss.
Nick Adenhart was pulled from the wreckage and transported to a local hospital, where he was soon pronounced dead
I took a Breathalyzer for the first time about 24 hours ago. I had one drink at a pub, then drove home a couple of hours later. The RIDE program was stopping most cars, and they got me to step out of the car. It felt weird. I actually screwed up my first two tries.
"Did you have more than one pint?" the officer asked me. "Is that why you're nervous?"
"No," I said. "I just read about someone killed by a drunk driver, and I don't ever want to be the cause of something like that."
I got the test right the third time, and I was more than ok. I wish Nick Adenhart was that lucky.
Nick Adenhart vigil