Kallet: Sorrowful Night In Miami Might Have Been What Everyone Needed
By Brad Kallet
» More Columns
In the third inning of the SNY telecast on Monday night, play-by-play announcer Gary Cohen and analyst Keith Hernandez said that they'd never before been in a ballpark for a game like this.
Needless to say, I'd never watched one like it on television.
Prior to the Mets' game against the Marlins in Miami, there was an emotional tribute for Jose Fernandez, who, at the tender age of 24, died on Sunday morning in a tragic boating accident. It set the stage for an eerie, joyful, painful, celebratory, and sad night.
There were all of those mixed emotions, and among them, a baseball game.
It was a game, from the Mets' point of view, that was of great importance, but it never seemed so unimportant. Yet, at the same time, it was oddly necessary and fitting.
After the opening ceremony, which brought tears to the eyes of many thousands, a scene unfolded like that out of a movie. After the Mets failed to score in the top of the first inning, Dee Gordon stepped to the plate in the bottom half. A left-handed hitter, he took the first pitch right of home plate in honor of Fernandez, who hit right-handed. Then, two pitches later, he hit an absolute bomb into the second deck, causing Marlins Park to erupt like, possibly, never before.
Gordon's blast off of Mets pitcher Bartolo Colon was his first of the season. As the 28-year-old rounded the bases he broke down, tears dripping from his eyes and a heartbreaking expression on his face. He didn't return to the dugout to high fives, as is the normal custom. He returned to an army of hugs from teammates, also crying, all wearing No. 16 Fernandez jerseys on their backs.
To say it was a surreal moment would be an understatement that simply doesn't do it justice. Some of life's instances can't be described effectively, or appropriately, with words. This was one of those instances.
That home run, and the subsequent bittersweet celebration, will forever be etched in history. We'll be watching that clip for years, generations, to come.
After Gordon's dramatic homer that seemed to stop time, the Marlins teed off on Colon. The fish, looking as if they were taking batting practice, plated four in the second and added two more in the third.
The Marlins were clearly on a mission from the first pitch. Playing for their fallen brother, they were, under no circumstances, going to lose this baseball game.
One can only imagine what was teeming through these ballplayers on this South Florida night. Don Mattingly's club, suffering through unimaginable heartache, seemed to step up its collective game in honor of Fernandez and played an inspired brand of baseball. Though it must have been difficult to return to the field, maybe baseball -- the game they love, and that Fernandez so deeply loved -- was just what the doctor ordered, what was necessary in an effort to return to some level of normalcy.
The Mets, too, must have felt deep pain on behalf of Fernandez, the fans and the Marlins' organization. Yoenis Cespedes, for one, was completely broken up over the loss of his friend and countryman. Jose Reyes, who played in Miami a year before Fernandez, a two-time All-Star, debuted in the majors, was also greatly affected. But the Mets, unlike the Marlins, are in a pennant race. The game, from a standings standpoint, was close to a must-win. They all are from here on out.
It couldn't have been easy, in light of the circumstances and the environment around them, for the Mets to get jacked up to play. Death can, and often does, put life in perspective. How can a team, playing the role of, relatively speaking, the enemy, play with the swagger required to win when it's balancing such a delicate array of emotions on a night that's bigger than the game?
Yes, they're professionals. But sometimes matters of the heart take precedence and override the task at hand.
The Marlins won the game, 7-3, on a night when the final score won't be remembered, but everything else will be.
The Mets needed this game for their pursuit of the postseason -- they received an assist from the Reds, who hammered the Cardinals in convincing fashion -- but the Marlins needed it more.
They needed it for themselves. For Miami. For baseball. For Jose Fernandez.
On Monday night, baseball -- and this pennant race that fans often nonchalantly say they "live and die with," myself included -- was put into perspective.
It was a healthy reminder.
Brad Kallet is the managing editor of TENNIS.com and a frequent contributor to WFAN.com. Follow him on Twitter @brad_kallet
