Reflecting on the madness that was 9/25/16

Photo creds to www.washingtonpost.com

It was past 1:00 on Sunday morning and Joseph Arthur Smeltzer was very agitated. I had a lot of stuff to get done over the weekend and had not done any of it. For whatever reason, I had decided to take a midnight trip to Walmart with my friends from Waynesburg University. Around 1:30, I got back to my dorm and worked on my NFL Preview, which I did not finish before I went to sleep. I went to bed at around 2:20. I had a lot of stuff to get done over the weekend and had not done any of it, so I was stressed out. Then, I woke up at around 8:30, and decided to check Twitter.



Almost instantly, I saw that Jose Fernandez, the superb Miami Marlins hurler, had passed away at the age of 24. I went numb for a few seconds, then picked myself up enough to read into how he had passed away. It turns out that Fernandez was on a boat. The boat crashed, killing Fernandez and two other passengers. As much as I and the rest of the baseball community wanted to believe that this was just a Paul McCartney-like death hoax, it was all too real. Jose Fernandez was gone.

Jose Fernandez loved to show that smile.

It's amazing to think how the loss of somebody you have never met, or even been within 100 feet of, can have such an impact. But even though I never knew Fernandez and was never a fan of the Miami Marlins, this news shook me up for the rest of the day and is still affecting me five days later. Next to Clayton Kershaw, Jose was, in my opinion, the most dominant pitcher in the National League. But his appeal wasn't only that he mowed batters down at such a high rate, but, perhaps more importantly, in the way in which he went about his business.

So often, baseball players and professional athletes, in general, have a button-down attitude towards their sport. They look at their profession as a job and not a game. Jose Fernandez was the opposite. When you watch Jose Fernandez, you were watching a 12-year old kid who just so happened to be making a lot of money. He was lively. He was happy. He made baseball look like fun.

Oh, and the kid could pitch, too. From they day he debuted in the majors on April 7th, 2013, Fernandez was a star. He was the National Leagues Rookie of the Year in 2013, going 12-6 with an ERA of 2.19 and a WHIP of 0.979. His next two seasons were cut short by the great Tommy John Surgery, but come 2016, Fernandez was back and ready to go.

What a glorious year it was. At the time of his death, Fernandez had a 16-8 record with a 2.86 ERA, 1.19 WHIP, and a league-leading 253 Strikeouts. At 24, Jose was already one of the game's best pitchers, and it's most exciting. But fate takes a cruel turn.

Fast forward about 13 hours. I am still trying to comprehend the death of a thoroughbred, gone far too early. Again, I check Twitter. Only this time, I find that one of our cities most prominent sports figures, Arnold Palmer, had passed away.  ˙

Palmer was able to look majestic while smoking a cigarette.

While the loss of Palmer was not nearly as much of a shock as losing Fernandez was, as Palmer was 63 years his senior, we still lost one of the most important figures in the history of golf. It's hard to explain Palmer's influence, as when he burst onto the scene, I was not alive yet. But the common understanding is that Palmer was golf's first superstar. Arnie had everything. Not only was he the best in the world, he also had ''the look''. He was charismatic and is understood to have been a wonderful person to be around.

Palmer's 7 major championships and 62 PGA Tour wins speak for themselves, as does, of course, the signature drink named in his honor. There's not a lot that I can say for Arnold Palmer that someone else hasn't said already. He was a superstar. He was an icon. His likeness will not be replicated

In Palmer and Fernandez, we have two opposite, yet similar occurrences. One was a young man with his whole life ahead of him, who never even got to scratch the surface of his potential, both on the diamond and in the world. The other did all he needed to do in sports and life, and his death was just the final curtain of a magnificent journey. As different as those two descriptions make these men sound, they are so similar.

Both of these men had a genuine love for their profession. Both men were beloved by the fans who watched them, as well as the folks who knew them best. The losses of both Fernandez and Palmer are devastating to the sports community. As beautiful as following sports can be, moments like this make it so hard to do.

2016 was already a tough year as far as losing sporting legends. Muhammad Ali, Gordie Howe, Pat Summit, Buddy Ryan and Dennis Green (not to mention pop culture heroes Prince and David Bowie) are just some of the notable figures that have left us. But 9/25/16 took the sorrow to a whole other level.

The best comparison I can make of 9/25/16 to another date in history would be June 25th, 2009. That was the time that Farrah Fawcett, who was the ultimate fantasy for young men back in the day, passed away at the age of 62. On any other day, this story would have dominated the news. However, Fawcett's death coincided with the loss of the great Michael Jackson. Two legends of pop culture passed away seven years ago, and that will go down as one of the blackets days in entertainment history.

9/25/16 will go down as one of the blackest days in sports history. But if there is a silver lining, I think it's that situations like this remind us of why we love sports. I've heard countless times that baseball doesn't have the magic that it did back when Aaron, Mantle, and Mays were in their heyday and that belief has substance in a lot of cases. But if you watched the Marlins play the Mets at Marlins Park on Monday night and did not get moved, there is something wrong with you.

If you haven't yet seen Dee Gordon's first at bat after the death of his dear friend, then you better watch it. It was something that would be thought of as too corny if it appeared in a Hollywood flick. Gordon was the first Marlins batter of the game, and he faced off against Bartolo Colon. In honor of his fallen comrade, Gordon started out by batting right handed as opposed to his usual left handed, because Fernandez was a righty. although Gordon would eventually switch back. Not known to be a home run hitter by any means, Gordan came into the game with 0 dingers on the season. Then, on the 2-0 offering; Bang.

He crushed it. There was no doubt about it. Gone. See ya. Goodbye. Over the right field wall. 1-0 Marlins. How poetic.

These are the moments that make me feel sorry for those who don't follow sports. ''Oh, it's just a game.'' ''Oh, there are so many people who are more important than those who hit a ball with a stick.'' ''Oh, athletes are nothing but a bunch of greedy millionaires.'' '''Oh, baseball is so freaking boring.'' Those are just some of the things that skeptics like to whine about. But as Dee Gordon rounded 3rd and crossed the plate, I don't think to be a sports fan was required for one to get emotional. But for those who are sports fans, it was that much more special, because it reminded us of why we love the game.

And Arnold Palmer? I'll just leave you this picture taken over his statue in Latrobe. Magnificant.

Photo creds to pittsburgh.cbslocal.com

Jose Fernandez and Arnold Palmer. One cut down in his prime; the other had the sun set on him at an appropriate time. Both are now upstairs. Palmer is playing at the world's greatest golf course (if The King has his way, it will be an replica of Oakmont), playing a round with Byron Nelson, Old Tom Morris, and Sam Sneed. Meanwhile, Fernandez is on the bump, staring down Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle, Lou Gehrig, and Babe Ruth- at the same time.

I will leave you with a monolog that I wrote in honor of the great Jose Fernandez.

Not only has the game lost one of its most talented pitchers, but it has also lost one of it’s most charismatic characters. Some perceive  baseball as a button-down sport, with players who are wound too tightly and look at their sport as a job first, and a game second. But when you watched Jose Fernandez, you looked at a 12-year-old kid on the mound who just so happened to be a millionaire. The enthusiasm that Fernandez possessed for baseball and life, in general, is something that all of us would like to have.

As a fan, I am sorry to admit that, unless he was pitching against my Pirates, I never watched a full Jose Fernandez start. Boy, what I wouldn’t give to go back in time, convince my parents to buy the MLB TV package, and try to tune into the Marlins games every 5th day, and watch #16 do his thing.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I lost a bit of sleep last night, thinking of what the future could have had in store for this young man. If I’m losing sleep 1,126 miles away from Miami, never even coming close to meeting Jose, I can only imagine what Don Mattingley, Dee Gordon and the rest of Jose teammates and friends are going through right now.

To Mattingly, Gordon, Jose’s girlfriend, Carla Mendoza, and all who knew and loved Jose Fernandez, I would like to send out my deepest condolences. I’ll end my monologue by saying; Adios Amigo.