RIP Oscar Taveras

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

                             - Mary Elizabeth Frye

Following a baseball team is a weird thing. For a good six months of the year, your team is like 25 friends who you keep up with on a daily basis. You bask in their triumphs, and you share in their sorrows. In the end, the game is just a game, but it brightens an otherwise gloomy day, it brings excitement to what would be a lackluster weekend, and above all it distracts from life's harsh realities.

Unfortunately, today the game of baseball and the harshness of life collided in a most unexpected way. Oscar Taveras, the wonder kid uber-prospect, just 22 years of age, has passed away. Just two weeks ago, he was hitting home runs in the playoffs. And now, we are abruptly and shockingly left with the tragic emotions of "what-if" and "too young, too soon."

I distinctively remember feeling a similar emotion when Darryl Kile and then Josh Hancock passed away while members of the St. Louis Cardinals ball club. I was younger then, and struggled mightily with putting my thoughts into words. I still struggle today, some 10+ years later, but reading all of his teammate's thoughts makes me realize that this news goes beyond anything related to the game of baseball. Taveras was a friend, a son, a future husband and father. He was taken away too early. Baseball means very little in comparison. But as a fan, I mourn the loss of one of my 25 guys. Rest in peace, Oscar Taveras.