They couldn’t possibly be this shortsighted, this insensitive, this flat-out stupid, could they?
Here was a symbol – the symbol – of their dead brother, killed by a man who was driving drunk, and they were defacing the memory of Nick Adenhart by drowning his jersey in Budweiser, Bud Light and cheap Korbel champagne.
And now they were hoisting that jersey aloft, hooting and shouting, proudly and coldly, while cameras flashed and cell phones clicked.
The Angels, a franchise the fans love because it does so much right, a team that played all summer with its hearts exposed after Adenhart’s shocking death in the season’s first week, couldn’t be this cruel. Or could they?