Players and fans mourn Fernandez
Somber teammates and fans gathered around Jose Fernandez’s hearse Wednesday as it left Marlins Park. They remembered the young pitcher, who died in a boating accident Sunday.
MIAMI — Barry Bonds leaned over the front hood of the hearse and said, in a soft voice that never reached the larger crowd, “Say something to him.”
All the Marlins walking beside Jose Fernandez on this final trip from Marlins Park — all the players, executives and clubhouse attendants — closed their leaking eyes and dropped their heads then in private conversation.
Bonds, the Marlins hitting coach, said, “He’s your brother … your son … your teammate … your friend … If you have something to say — if you need to tell him something - now’s the time to say it.”
Tears fell from this team. Shoulders shook. A few dozen palms flattened against the hearse, as if by touching it they were touching their lost teammate.
“Now’s the time,’’ Bonds said, so softly.
Silence gripped the afternoon then as much as grief did, as teammates who played these past four years with him and walked these blocks down Marlins Way beside him said good-bye. And godspeed.
And behind them, often crammed beside them on this one-lane road, were hundreds of fans offering their good-byes, too. The hearse started from the stadium at 2:16 p.m. – the minute synchronized to Fernandez’s jersey number – and now was about to leave this very public ceremony for a very private one.
The players stayed silent in their private thoughts. And in the lingering quiet fans became fans.
“We love you, Jose!” one yelled.
“Gracias, Jose!” another did.
Chants began. “Jose! Jose! Jose!”
And still the players stayed quiet. Fifteen seconds passed. Thirty seconds. Later, they would say this latest good-bye was another emotional moment, even spiritual, in a few days dripping with both.
They had one good-bye on the mound, just the players themselves, leaving their hats after Monday’s first game following his death. Now they had this walk alongside the hearse amongst hundreds of fans.
The famous ballplayers and the anonymous fans were more alike than different at this time. They needed the same thing. They needed to cry a little and hug a little and have a farewell like this, too.
There were CubanAmericans here like Santiago Ons, 68, who came to America 36 years ago in the same way Fernandez did: On a raft. With full hope. Leaving one country’s captivity for another’s freedom.
“My life was his life in a way,’’ Ons said. “The only difference is he was one of the best pitchers ever.”
His voice trailed off. “Or he could have been.”
There also were fans like Brady Bushnell here. He turns 9 next week. His parents, Brent and Melinda, got him out of his third-grade class in Fort Lauderdale and drove to Marlins Park for
this ceremony.
“Closure,’’ Melinda called it.
Brady had a story: Fernandez gave him a baseball at Fenway Park when the Marlins played there two years ago. And then, wonder of wonders, Fernandez was on his flight home the next day (the pitcher started the next home game and flew in a day early).
So Fernandez autographed the ball on the plane and had a friend for life. And into death.
“This is tough,’’ Brent Bushnell said.
Tough for fans. Tough for the baseball brotherhood. Toughest for family, as his mother and grandmother could barely walk to their car.
There was a public viewing later Wednesday, a never-emptying four-block line of fans walking past the closed casket at St. Brendan church in west Dade. There is a private funeral today for friends and family.
And here, in shadow of the Marlins Park, was a final trip from a ballpark with teammates by his side. They had this walk. They had a conversation at Bonds’ urging.
Now put arms around each other, Giancarlo Stanton around Marcell Ozuna, Dee Gordon around Tom Koehler. They stepped out of the way. They watched the hearse carrying their friend from his ballpark turn left on Northwest-16th Avenue-and drive away forever.