Yesterday afternoon at approximately 2:30pm, 34 year-old Yankees Pitcher Cory Lidle was killed when he crashed his twin engine plane into a 50-story apartment building in New York City. He leaves behind a wife and young son.
Last night's Game 1 of the National League Championship Series, scheduled to be played at 8:05 pm at Shea Stadium, also in New York City, was rained out.
This is one of those wholly surreal and unbelievably tragic events that happens so unexpectedly that you don't really know how to react. I know there are certainly much more tragic events going on in the world right now, but this one was sort of personal for me, having seen so many Yankee games lately and having seen Cory on TV so frequently in recent weeks. You kind of start to feel like you know these guys. It's very strange. Sad, and strange.
I was sitting at work yesterday at 3:00pm when my co-worker called to say she was on her way back from her lunch break when she heard a small aircraft crashed into a building in New York. My first thought was, "Oh my god, my boyfriend is in New York!" I got scared. I got off the phone with her and immediately called him. He was happy to hear from me, that I had called to check on him. He was fine, said the crash was on the other side of the city.
At 4:30pm I left work and heard on the radio that it was believed the plane was owned by Cory Lidle. So I called my dad to let him know. I got home at 5:00pm and spent a good hour sitting in front of the TV with my roommate (a consumate Red Sox fan) watching ESPN.
Mark's article on the event
