Fernando Valenzuela was such an exciting, fun new player to root for that I can remember my mother, who could never being accused of spending a minute thinking about baseball
(or any sport, really), immediately declaring him to be her favorite baseball player the moment she accidentally glanced at the tv while the game was on and saw the joy that jumped out of the 13-inch screen. That's the highest complement I can give him, and I have a suspicion there's thousands of people out there who can tell the same story. There's poetry in him leaving us days before the first Yankees/Dodgers World Series since the one he was in himself, but of course that's selfish fan "poetry" as 63 is way too young to die.
What a great, fun small chapter in the book of baseball that everybody can agree on as being nothing but beloved. He will be missed.
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