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Baseball Writer Tries to Make Sense of Cory Lidle's Death

Sometimes, a death reveals a pattern of tragedy. When former California Angels pitcher Donnie Moore shot and wounded his wife Tonya in 1989, and then took his own life, a deeply sad tale emerged: depression, substance abuse, marital problems, and the angst of a 30-something athlete past his prime. Moore's demons had been set in motion by a famous playoff failure in 1986 against the Boston Red Sox, a failure that seemed mere child's play till the pitcher's death brought its tragic potential into relief.

I thought of Donnie Moore yesterday when New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle died in a plane crash in Manhattan. Actually, I thought first of September 11, 2001: plane hits New York City highrise, details sketchy: just as on 9/11, my first thought was that a small accident had occurred. Five years ago, a tragedy of gigantic proportions developed in the wake of a first, sketchy report.

No such process would unfold on 10/11/06, but early indications were that Lidle's death might reveal a private tragedy of great significance to him. Like Moore, Lidle had just failed in the playoffs. Moreover, Lidle was a "replacement" player from the 1994-95 strike, one who had never been allowed to join the players' union, despite considerable success as a pitcher. In the intense circus of the New York media, had Lidle's playoff woes and subsequent talk-radio scuffles driven him to suicide?

I searched for information. In August, during a crucial series in Boston, Lidle had gone on "bereavement leave" from the Yankees. Had the death of a loved one simmered below public awareness and blossomed into suicide? As it turns out, such a theory was unlikely. Lidle's bereavement was the death of his 98-year-old grandmother. And he didn't even miss a start; Lidle returned to his club to win the final game of the now-famous "Boston Massacre" sweep that sealed the Yankees' hold on their division. Such heroics are not effaced, even in New York, by a few bad playoff innings.

No, the picture of Lidle that emerged in various Internet archives was that of an essentially carefree ballplayer, a veteran pitcher and novice pilot. With the distractions of the baseball season behind, he took to the air. Flying small airplanes is a risky business, though, and Lidle died as so many novice pilots do: the victim of accident, error, circumstance, or whatever small elements of fate that can at any time transport any of us to the other side of our mortal condition.

Sometimes things make sense, in other words, and sometimes they don't. When someone in the prime of life disappears, we search for sense, but we don't always find it. Someone who shaped our lives in some respect, small or large, simply ceases to be, and life, after a minute's pause, fills up with busy details again. Perhaps just such a senseless, elemental deaths bring the opportunities of this life into sharpest focus.

About the author:
Tim Morris is Professor of English at the University of Texas at Arlington. He lives in Arlington and in Great Neck, New York. He is nonfiction editor of Aethlon, the journal of sport literature, and he compiles the internet Guide to Baseball Fiction.

On the Web:
http://www.uta.edu/english/tim/
http://www.uta.edu/english/tim/baseball/index.html

Posted by PJS