"Now you play for another Angels team"

Nick Adenhart wasn't even a year older than me.

Yeah, Adenhart was a terrific young pitcher, the Angels No. 1 prospect according to Baseball America. Yeah, he turned in the biggest performance of his baseball career hours before he died in a car accident. And yeah, his passing signifies a tremendous loss of talent in both the Angels organization and MLB. But all of that pales in comparison when you consider Adenhart's age. That was the most traumatizing part of his passing this week.

Nick Adenhart, at the age of 22 and with so much more to give, is dead. In the eyes of a fellow 22-year old, that's as disturbing as it gets. Unexpected death can happen to anyone, even when you're still in your "invincible" stage of life. If the unexpected can happen to him, it can certainly happen to me. That's the sobering reality leaving its mark on the world of sports, as well as 22-year olds around the world.

Amplifying that is who Adenhart was as a person. In an era where tragedy in sports often involves an athlete acting unprofessionally or inhumanely, Adenhart was a stirring exception. Beloved by his family and the Angels organization, Adenhart was often described as "quiet and thoughtful," qualities not often attributed to some of the more flamboyant, outspoken personalities in professional sports.

He displayed a childhood fervor for the game of baseball, admitting after his perofrmance this week that the fire still burned during his time in the minor leagues, and that same fire carried over into his big league promotion. After the game, he was elated, throwing six shut-out innings against the Oakland A's with his father in the stands. To everyone in the ballpark, including Adenhart and his father, this appeared to be the beginning of something grand.

Hours later, Adenhart was a victim in a tragic car accident that killed two others and left the fourth in intensive care.

Opening Day isn't supposed to be a prelude to such a tragedy. We rant about bullpens and lineups and the rather mundane details of baseball, but we never consider anything like this. Worst of all, there's absolutely no way to prepare for it. It's a harsh reminder that another world revolves around baseball, not the other way around. It's a harsh reminder of what sometimes lies outside of chalk lines and hot dog vendors, bleachers and scoreboards. It's an unfair, harsh reminder of the fragility of life.

Today, and for the foreseeable future, my thoughts and prayers are with Adenhart's family, friends, and the Angels organization. In the baseball community, he won't soon be forgotten.