This morning, at 5:00am British Standard Time, cricketer Tom Maynard was struck and killed by a train. He was only 23 years old.
I was planning on writing about Greece this morning, and maybe a bit about Ian Bell, but then the news about Maynard’s death hit the wires, and so I scratched those plans.
I did not know him personally, nor was I really that aware of him as a cricketer, but based on the outpouring of sadness and grief I have witnessed over the last few hours, it sounds as if he was one of the good guys, and a rather fine cricketer, as well. Not that the latter really matters, in the end.
But then again, it kind of does.
When a young person dies, even someone we did not know, all of us are forced to re-examine our own mortality, and try to rediscover what really is important in life: moments not things, people not possesions.
And when that young person is a world class athlete, our mortality is even further clarified. Death can happen at any moment, to anyone. And thereby every second is sacred. Cherish them all.
As I said, I did not know Tom Maynard, but his death got to me this morning when I heard the news.
Only 23. What a waste.
Some people will cast spurious glances at those of us who grieve when celebrities die – but I think it is perfectly okay to mourn those in the spotlight, even if they were not close friends or family. Their lives touch ours in very unique ways, and so it follows that their deaths would do so, as well.
Rest in peace, Tom.