Twenty-two years old.
That was the age of St. Louis Cardinals outfielder Oscar Taveras when he was killed in a car crash Sunday night in the Dominican Republic. His girlfriend Edilia Arvelo, who was just 18, was also killed.
Sports stars always seem well beyond their years, immersed in the public spotlight, playing a game with full-grown men. But Taveras was nothing more than a kid. A young man who had his life and brilliant future taken away from him in the blink of an eye.
Taveras, who made his major league debut this season, was not only the future face of the Cardinals, but a future face of baseball. He had been talked about for years and years in the baseball community in St. Louis. Fans had anticipated his call up for what seemed like eternities.
After being ranked in the Top 5 of MLB prospects in 2012 and 2013, it was finally time for Taveras to come to the show in 2014. So-called “Oscar Day” in St. Louis was as highly anticipated by their fans as Stephen Strasburg’s debut in Washington.
On May 31, 2014, Taveras strode to the plate for his second at bat. He obliterated the second pitch into left field for a towering home run and his first ever Major League hit. The man, the myth, the legend was finally becoming a reality for St. Louis.
As the season waned, Taveras dealt with growing pains and eventually lost his starting spot to Randal Grichuk in the postseason. That didn’t stop Taveras from doing his part in the playoffs, as he collected three hits, including a clutch game-tying home run against the Giants in Game 2 of the NLCS.
I never would have thought this would be the last time I’d see Taveras hit a home run. His death is not just a tragic loss for the Cardinals and their fans, but more importantly a loss for all of baseball and sports fans across the globe.
It is difficult to compare Taveras to any major leaguer because his talent was so incredibly unique. But his lefty stroke was as silky smooth as Ken Griffey Jr.’s. Taveras played baseball with the same vivacious intensity that Griffey Jr. did. You could see the love he had for the game in the way he hustled, the way he put everything he had into every swing and his seemingly child-like enthusiasm after any big hit.
Taveras would have been a refreshing glass of water for baseball. A Mike Trout-esque player that the game of baseball needs more of. A star as bright as any other young stud in the game, but without the attitude we see from a player like Yasiel Puig.
In a way, I believe he would have been Puig’s counterpart, a Latin American superstar for young players to look up to. But Taveras would represent all that Puig does not, a team-first attitude, a selfless drive to help the team and a burning passion for the game of baseball that doesn’t include a bat flip after every bloop single. Then again, I’ll admit that Taveras had a mean bat flip when he smashed baseballs into the seats.
It is nearly impossible to speculate what Taveras could have done with his career. Maybe he would have brought five, six championships to St. Louis. Maybe he would have won several MVPs. Maybe he would have been the hero who finally broke baseball villain Barry Bond’s all-time home run record. Sadly, the sports world will never know.
More than anything though, Taveras’ passing is a brutal reminder of the fragility of life. Even superstars, who seem like an invincible species, can have their lives taken in a flash. The suddenness of his death is what makes it so difficult to swallow. After all, just 15 days ago, Taveras hit the biggest home run of his young life.
I wouldn’t characterize myself as much of a religious man, but I do envision heaven to be a beautiful baseball diamond, where the lines are always freshly chalked, the grass is perfectly trimmed and the sun is always shining. I suppose the only way to ease the knot in my stomach is to picture Taveras there, crushing home runs with the likes of Babe Ruth, Stan Musial and Roberto Clemente.
