Superstition Rings True: Baseball Loses Three In a Week

I'm not a superstitious man, really I'm not. The only thing I'm superstitious about is baseball, and to a lesser extent, about my favorite sports teams.

There is an old saying that seems to ring true over these last few days, and although it's a silly superstition, it really does seem like people die in threes.

Baseball has lost a young man with a promising future, a long-time announcer who was truly "the voice of his team", and a pitcher who, beyond his quirkiness, gave the city of Detroit a truly memorable season in 1976. All of these men were heroes in their own right, and all of them will be remembered for various reasons.

A lot of other blogs and news services will focus on how sports history will remember them, but this is my blog, and I want to do it my way.

I'll remember Nick Adenhart as a story of great talent taken from us too early. It's not to the same level as Clemente, but it's in a similar vein. Baseball fans will always talk about "what if", especially Angels fans.

As for Harry Kalas, I'll always remember his voice and the countless times I took great joy in just hearing the man's voice-overs on NFL Films. I'll also remember taking advantage of MLB.tv to listen to the Phillies broadcasts, based solely on the premise that I wanted to hear Kalas do commentary.

Honestly though, sometimes during spring training, it was because I wanted to hear the man who did the voiceovers for the most epic moments in NFL history give the play-by-play to a Phillies-Pirates spring training game because the hilarity of hearing him comment on such a meaningless game was much too tempting to avoid.

Finally, we come to Mark "the Bird" Fidrych. I never had an opportunity to see him pitch live, but I have seen him on tape, and during that magical year in 1976, he was a pitching god.

He was an odd character, but that's one of the many things I love about the game of baseball—the characters.

He groomed the mound, talked to the ball, and even requested a new ball when the ump gave him one that "had hits in it". He had his own way of expressing things, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, I implore you to read an interview with him.

The following season, Fidrych tore his rotator cuff and he was never the same. It actually took about seven years before he was actually diagnosed correctly, and by that time, there was no chance for a comeback.

I will remember these men for different things, but to me, they are all now part of baseball lore which, regardless if Heaven exists or not, is a fine fate to have here on Earth.

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