Yesterday baseball lost a legend. Ernie Harwell went to announce the biggest game in the sky. It's hard to describe the loss of someone who you feel like you've known your whole life, but who you've only been around a handful of times. I will do my best, because that's what he deserves, our best.
I remember sitting next to my dad in a U of M hospital room last September when I heard the news of Ernie's illness. On the other side of us there was a man with his young wife, receiving chemotherapy. It was his TV that I heard the news on. He looked at me with a sad smile and simply said "What a shame, he's a legend though, so he'll never really die."
I don't remember that mans name, or what kind of cancer he was fighting, but I do remember that he was beating it, and despite being incredibly sick, he was always still smiling and he had the best outlook on life. That man and his simple worlds to me are the first things that popped into my head when I heard the news of Ernie's passing yesterday. Even though I think he probably jocked his words from "The Sandlot," it doesn't even matter because he's right. Detroit grew up with Ernie announcing our baseball, smiling at fans, and always being around. That's not something that has to change, he may be gone, but he is not forgotten. He will never be forgotten, because he's a legend, and our memories of him - well, they will never die.
I've been debating going to the memorial services at Comerica Park tomorrow, but I have some issues with things like that now so I'm not sure it's something I'd be able to walk away from with my emotional stability for the month.
Ernie, may your suffering be gone, and your voice be stronger than ever. Rest in Peace old friend.
This isn't "goodbye," it's "see ya later."
Faith
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