I really do not have a lot to add to the Cory Lidle plane crash. Maybe sportscasters and writers will spend a little more time on the good guys who gutted their way to the big leagues and worked their tails off just to survive like Lidle did for nine years in the majors instead of wasting paper and breath on idiots like T.O. and his ilk of media-hungry malcontents. Of course, as the news had shifted from Lidle back to T.O. on ESPN in less than 5 hours, I really do not see this happening.

All I can do is think of his poor wife and child, and about the family of the flight instructor who perished with him in the crash. What a tragedy. And this is a real tragedy. The football team losing because their kicker slipped in the dirt is no tragedy. The Sox missing the playoffs is no tragedy. Cory Lidle, Thurman Munson in 1979, and Roberto Clemente on New Years Eve in 1972: those are tragedies. Sports are merely an escape from reality. When reality butts in like with Cory Lidle crashing his plane into a New York City high-rise, it takes everyone a while to get their bearings back.

Sad. So sad.

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