Good-byes

I’m a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals. A real fan. I may not know the stats of every player who ever sat in the Cards’ dugout or remember what happened in what inning of the 1964 series, but I love the Cardinals. And when my mom called to tell me that Cards pitcher Josh Hancock had passed away in a traffic accident early Saturday morning, I was stunned. It brings back memories of Darryl Kile and those sad days in Chicago when the season just stopped for awhile. When it just seemed wrong to wear anything but Cardinal red. Sunday seemed like gameday as usual in MLB, until news of Hancock’s death hit the wire. The Cards/Cubs game was canceled, a small way to give tribute to a persistent pitcher. Maybe the one small way the team could honor their fallen teammate. Josh Hancock was 29 years old. He just celebrated his birthday on April 11. In October, I’ll be 29. We’re the SAME age. And his life was over, just like that. That’s been a sobering realization. And I’m sad about the death of a man I never met, never really knew. I’m sad for all the opportunities he’ll never have. I’m sad that once again the Cards will be wearing a somber black patch with a teammate’s number on it for the rest of the season. I’m just sad. So I join the Cardinal Nation in mourning today. And tonight, I’ll put on my Cardinal pajama pants and cheer for victory in Milwaukee, because it’s the only thing I know how to do. And I think, Josh Hancock, competitor that he was, would agree. So, go Cards! Play a game that would make Josh proud!