R.I.P. Jose Lima.
No, I don’t usually talk sports here, but as a lifelong Astros fan I was shocked and saddened to hear that he died this weekend - and only 37! Lima was an average major league pitcher who had one spectacular year for the team, but it was what he did outside the lines that struck me.
The dude loved the game, but he loved the fans more, and I’ve rarely seen a professional athlete light up a kid’s face like Lima Time could. He made my kids feel like they were the most important people in the world. Everyone reminiscing about him are centering on the same thing – he milked every day for everything it was worth.
I think the ideal game for Lima would have been the ability to simultaneously pitch the game and sit in the stands with the fans, cheering and high-fiving and just having fun. I don’t know what happens when we die – and after last night’s Lost finale I’m even more confused – but wherever he is now, there’s a party going on.
Some people light up a room. Lima lit up a ballpark.
R.I.P., Lima Time.
I am still trying to digest the finale of Lost from last night. People seem to love it or hate it with very little middle ground. I’m disappointed that so much of the mythology seemed to go out with the bathwater – maybe down that mystical island drain – to reward those who wanted the feel-good ending for their characters.
There was some great action and some surprising moments, and as always, a healthy dose of humor. But parts of the very end seemed like a wrap party in character. And there are already people violently disagreeing with the final images over the closing credits. And of course, Darlton aren’t talking.
Hey, at least they didn’t fade to black. My thoughts on this soon.