This entry was supposed to be about two kids – Ricky Romero and Rick Porcello – getting their first taste of big league baseball. So eager was I to see this fascinating match-up (two first-round picks face off in their debuts for the first time since the inception of the draft) that I did something I never do; I brought my laptop to the ball park. Why not document, I thought, the arrival of two highly acclaimed prospects?
It’s a crisp, clear day in Toronto and since there is no Sportsnet broadcast, I arrive at Rogers Centre with enough time to drop my bag in the booth and take a leisurely stroll to Starbucks a block north of the stadium.
What a wonderful sight: smiling, happy people, most of them young children gripping a glove or dad’s hand, skipping out on work or school to take in an early season ball game.
Say what you will of all the flowery prose written about a day at the ballpark; there’s romantic value to this sport.
Soon after the national anthems are presented, a face appeared on the giant scoreboard that made me numb. Within seconds, the public address announcer asked for a moment of silence.
Some insight: one of the pleasures of finishing a broadcast in Toronto is getting home in time to catch other games on television. I have an infant son who usually stirs for a bottle around midnight, so I stay up until I hear his call. Wednesday night I turned on the Angels and A’s.
On the mound for Los Angeles is Nick Adenhart. Like Porcello and Romero, he’s a bright prospect carrying weighted expectations. My first impression is that he looks so darn young. I picture him manning the drive-thru at In-N-Out.
In the 5th inning, the Angels were leading 3-0, but Adenhart had allowed singles to Ryan Sweeney and Orlando Cabrera. Oakland has two on and nobody out with Jason Giambi coming to the plate. The television cuts to a close-up of Adenhart’s unshaven and expressionless face. No hint of concern nor a trace of confidence either. Composed, he got out of the inning without allowing a run.
As midnight nears, the baby monitor crackles with the unmistakable sound of a hungry infant, so I turn off the television and sprint upstairs.
That’s the last I’ll see of Nick Adenhart. By the time I wake up later that morning, he’s dead.
Back at Rogers Centre, the game has been an absolute joy to watch. The two kids have acquitted themselves well. Jose Bautista saved two runs with a diving snare at third. Alex Rios took a Marcus Thames triple off his noodle and, minutes later, helped gun down Ramon Santiago trying to score. The Blue Jays hit three home runs on the way to victory, and then fly to Cleveland on a high.
Still, my mind is elsewhere. I never even met Nick Adenhart, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about him. Here’s hoping you’ll find time to think about him too.
