First, a quick thought on Jose Fernandez. A lot has already been said about the joy and enthusiasm with which he played the game and I second every last bit of it. Watching him pitch, he appeared to exist on another plane, one lacking a dimension for growth or improvement because how could that even be possible? His jump from A-ball to the majors was simultaneously remarkable and laughably uneventful. He even made Tommy John look easy.
Perhaps the adversities that Fernandez experienced in Cuba equipped him with the knowledge and perspective to make the athletic adversity felt by most seem inconsequential. I don’t know. What I do know is that Jose Fernandez put a face and vividness to the Cuban ballplayer’s experience that our sports media previously only alluded to in off-handed whispers. He shared personal experiences so heavy, their mere mention caused him to float above his peers.
I’ll miss watching him pitch. I wish I watched him more. But I’ll try not to think of what could have been because what was, was pretty damned significant.