New Ads

New ads

Wednesday, February 16, 2022

On The Death Of A Dear Friend


The Sunshine Boys, Spring Training 1989 - Robert Brustad (right) along with this author
and the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, A. Bartlett Giamatti

By Harry Cummins

     A few weeks ago I lost a close friend to metastatic cancer.

     Dr. Robert Brustad, age 69, leaves behind a grieving wife, Vone, and a teenage son "JJ", who at one time, could correctly recite the uniform numbers of nearly every player from every MLB team. Not incidentally, Bob also left behind the game of baseball itself, currently locked in yet another go-round over the transitory things of this world.

     Baseball ultimately couldn't save my friend from an end that awaits us all, but it became a comforting companion to his well-spent life and especially to his final agonizing year of chemotherapy. Our final conversations would always leave space at the end for the saving grace and hopeful expectancy of another baseball season, another season in the sun to share. We both knew we were talking about much more than a game.

     Baseball may not be a road to God, but it can become a clear pathway to a deeply shared, collective love between persons.  One of the things that lets us know we are never traveling alone. 

     This, then, is the supreme message my friend's life left behind. The sacrificial hit that sends us all "home."

     Love one another!



1 comment:

  1. Your message would have bought tears to Bob’s eyes, as it did to mine. Well said.