The news site of Santa Barbara City College.

The Channels

The news site of Santa Barbara City College.

The Channels

The news site of Santa Barbara City College.

The Channels

Column – Reflecting on loss of young, rising baseball player

When a young professional athlete, on the cusp of breaking into possible stardom loses his life, it’s hard to say that it matters who won or who lost.

I didn’t know Nick Adenhart. I have only read about him. In recent days, it was about how great a young man he was.

As an avid sports fan, a baseball fan in particular, I often scour books and magazines, trying to find the up-and-coming stars of the future.

With a mid-90s fastball, a biting curveball, and makeup off the charts, Adenhart was one of these guys.

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He was destined to become one of baseball’s next great pitchers.

On April 8, he took his first step towards fulfilling that potential, throwing six scoreless innings in his fourth Major League start. Potential was turning into results-I saw it with my own eyes.

Tragically, mere hours after he walked of the mound for what would be his final time, the 22-year-old was gone.

He was killed in a drunk driving accident just after midnight.

For as heartbreaking as this story is, it allowed me to think. I realized why I really do love sports.

It’s not all about the winning or losing. It’s these players, and how they become part of our lives.

I’ve sat in Dodger Stadium and celebrated as they clinched a playoffs series. I’ve “Rock Chalk Jayhawked” at Kansas’ legendary Allen Fieldhouse arena.

I’ve rushed the field at Colorado’s Folsom Field football stadium as they pulled off a miraculous goal line stand to beat their rival, Colorado State.

And I’ve rooted on my own country at the Olympics in Beijing.

Watching Steve Finley clinch the National League West in 2004 left me with the same speechless elation I felt as Mario Chalmers 3-pointer magically fell through the net.

All of these experiences left me with pure joy and excitement. But I’ve also felt equally crushed.

After my beloved Jayhawks fell to the Orangemen, I sat and cried in my driveway for about an hour after the game.

I was 18-years old, and had no connection to the school or the players, other than having spent the last few months watching them play.

These players become our friends.

We spend six months rooting for our favorite teams. After watching them play day in and day out, we feel like we know them.

They are part of our extended families.

Despite his youth, Adenhart had become this kind of family member to many baseball fans, even when we’d never met him.

His sudden death showed me what is really important: family. I’ll give my Mom and Dad an extra hug, and then rejoin my second family, the Dodgers.

-Kai Solins is a
Journalism 271 student

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