I've been lucky; I haven't experienced the loss of very many loved ones. As a result, I often feel ill-equipped to deal with tragedy. I struggle to process death when it comes.
I didn't know Marlins pitcher Jose Fernandez, but when I woke to the news of his death Sunday morning, I was filled with incredible sadness. I couldn't understand how so much joy, such a bright light, could be extinguished so suddenly. I can't fathom the pain Fernandez's family, friends, teammates and peers are feeling. I can't speak to the loss of fellow Cubans, including my colleague Dan Le Batard. I know only that I struggled to find solace in the face of such tragedy.
Like any other baseball fan, I knew of the 24-year-old star's tremendous talent and his undeniable charisma. I knew of his incredible journey and how he saved his mother's life during their escape from Cuba. To go through so much to achieve a dream, only to have it cut short, feels beyond comprehension. How could we have lost someone who embraced life so deeply, felt so lucky to do what he did and celebrated it so openly? It feels wrong to simply accept that his seemingly insuppressible smile is gone.
That smile. Every memory of Fernandez begins with that smile. After enduring multiple failed attempts to escape Cuba and a year spent in a Cuban prison, he had a reason to be joyful every day.
"All he wanted to do then was just have fun," ESPN analyst Eduardo Perez said of Fernandez's life in the United States. "Be on that mound and play the game. Not work the game, play it. And he played it beautifully."
Fernandez was never one to conceal his joy. He stood and watched his first career home run in wonderment, then famously laughed his way through the benches-clearing brawl that resulted. He celebrated his teammates' home runs as if they were his own and routinely inspired noted sourpuss Barry Bonds to grab him for a bear hug. Now that he's gone, Fernandez is being remembered not just for his fastball but also for the joy he brought everyone who watched him play.
Why do we so often try to stifle that joy? We've been taught that celebrating is cause for a beaning in baseball. Pros are expected to hide their enthusiasm, downplay their accomplishments and sterilize the very games we turn to for entertainment. We saw how much joy Fernandez brought to baseball fans and fellow ballplayers, and we celebrate it now, in his absence. Why not embrace that joy as it's happening? Why not let our athletes play the game, instead of work it?
Last year former major leaguer John Baker wrote about the important perspective he gained playing in a league in the Dominican Republic in 2011. When players celebrated their achievements, there was no malice from the opposition.
"They weren't flipping the bat to show up the pitcher," Baker wrote. "They were flipping the bat to show everyone watching that they appreciated where they were and that they really, truly loved playing baseball."
Jose Fernandez showed us over and over again that he really, truly loved playing baseball. If we want to ensure that his story doesn't end with his death, we need to continue to shine his light. We need to embrace the joy in the game and let players do the same. Said Pittsburgh Pirates manager Clint Hurdle after Fernandez's death, "Be where your feet are. Enjoy the moment. There'll be a day when there won't be another day."