It's a story worth remembering, all these years on.
As darkness gave way to dawn, the doctors delivered the awful news: There was nothing more they could do to save his son.
Jim Adenhart found his sanctuary where his son found joy.
The hospital was no place for a grieving father, not in the hour after death, not when there was solace in life, and in Baseball. And so the Angels unlocked their stadium, and their clubhouse, for a private sunrise service Thursday morning.
Nick Adenhart had walked through those doors just eight hours before, all smiles. Jim Adenhart walked through those doors, just past 7 a.m., all tears.
Mike Butcher, the Angels' pitching coach, led Jim to his son's locker. Butcher stepped back, leaving a respectful distance.
This would be Jim's first memorial service for his son, all his own.
Ken Higdon, the Angels' clubhouse manager, handed him the jersey his son had worn Wednesday night, when Nick pitched six shutout innings, the finest game of his young life. He was 22.
Perhaps Jim thought about what his son had told him a few days ago. He lives in Maryland, but his son urged him to fly to California for his first start in this new season.
"You better come here, because something special is going to happen," Nick told his father, according to agent Scott Boras.
If the son had not been looking out for the father, then the father would not have been minutes away from the hospital when he got that 3 a.m. call, with the horrible news that his son had been critically injured in a traffic accident.
Jim was not alone in those predawn hours. Butcher was at the hospital. So was Tim Mead, the Angels' vice president of communications. So were Boras and two of his lieutenants, Mike Fiore and Jeff Musselman.
