MIAMI _ On the day after, reality began to set in about the loss of Jose Fernandez.
After 36 hours of tears, prayers and grief, the Miami Marlins and their fans got on with the process of healing by playing baseball again at Marlins Park. Emotions filled the ballpark in Little Havana that the charismatic right-hander made his own.
No one was quite sure what to expect. The wound was so fresh, feelings still so raw.
"You're just trying to get through the day," Marlins manager Don Mattingly said before the game against the New York Mets. "I don't know, it might feel good for these guys to get out here and play."
Marlins president David Samson said the players were determined to put their hearts, heavy though they were, into the final six games of the season.
"That's what the players talked about. They want to play the way Jose played, with that passion that is so hard to capture," Samson said.
Leadoff hitter Dee Gordon conveyed the feeling well when he drove a home run into the right-field seats leading off the bottom of the first inning. When the teams came out for batting practice, Gordon wore a T-shirt that read "RIP," with the I formed by the image of Fernandez.
They played the game all with the No. 16 and "Fernandez" across the backs of their jerseys.
Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria said it was the last time anyone will do that, indicating Fernandez's number will be retired. Marlins uniforms will feature a No. 16 patch for the final five games of the season.
"I can tell you that now, nobody will wear that number again," said Loria, who said the death of the Marlins' young star left him feeling "devastated."
He added, "I just can't believe this happened."
That was a universal feeling throughout South Florida in the 36 hours after Fernandez was killed along with two others when his 32-foot center-console fishing boat hit the north jetty at Government Cut at high speed.
It was still so soon that funeral arrangements had not been set. Fernandez's agent Scott Boras and Samson both said it is likely there will be a memorial service that will be open to the public, though it was not determined if it would be at a church or the ballpark.
A makeshift memorial begun by fans Sunday on the west plaza of Marlins Park had grown considerably leading up to Monday's game. There were hundreds of bouquets of flowers, candles, baseballs, handwritten signs and notes, a Mets hat, as well as photos, more hats and teddy bears.
A large wall card that people lined up to sign and write messages on was nearly filled after two hours.
"When I walked around the building today and in my community, nobody mentioned him pitching. Not one player, not one fan," Samson said. "What they talked about was his freedom, his being an American, his passion and his leadership as a Cuban American."
Considering Fernandez was a larger-the-life personality just coming into his own, the sense of loss was monumental. That Fernandez's girlfriend is several months pregnant with their daughter added to the magnitude of what Loria termed "a tragedy."
Samson said the issue of financial assistance for his family is "definitely on the list." Fernandez was signed only through this season (though he wouldn't have been eligible for free agency until after the 2018 season).
"I think at this time we kind of always look at how we feel," Mattingly said. "Probably more important is how Jose's mom and grandmother and their families feel. And there are two other families that are probably crushed and hurting. So I think our entire organization feels for all the families, not just Jose's family who we know and are tied to."
On Sunday, all Marlins players and staff bussed to the Fernandez family home to offer comfort to the pitcher's mother and grandmother. There were about 30 family members and friends present. Loria flew in from New York and visited later in the evening after the team had left.
"All of us lined up and gave both of them a big hug. Then we were just there in silence. There was a prayer and more hugs," Samson said.
Mattingly said he can relate to what the family is feeling on a personal level. When Mattingly was a boy, his 23-year-old brother Jerry was killed in a construction accident.
"I knew their pain. I could see my mom and my sister-in-law and what they were going through. It was awful."
Marlins players, who were not made available to speak to the media before Monday's game, dealt with the death of their teammate by pulling together. Just before the game they circled the mound, many of them kneeling to pat the No. 16 painted on the backside of it and to rub the dirt.
Earlier they came together on the infield with the Mets to share handshakes and hugs. The Mets hung their own Fernandez jersey in their dugout.
"It's so much bigger than baseball. I can't even imagine what it's like for them over there," Mets outfielder Jay Bruce said, adding that Fernandez was "One of the toughest competitors I've ever come up against. It felt like he brought out the best in me."
For players on both sides as well as fans, management and stadium workers, it was still beyond comprehension that jovial right-hander whose personality was more electric than his arm would not be back.
Fernandez was scheduled to pitch Monday, though his start had been pushed back from Sunday. Mattingly and Samson both found themselves contemplating whether Fernandez would have gone out on his boat late Saturday if he were to pitch the next day.
"Obviously, it crosses your mind, but I don't think life works like that, if we'd be one place or another," Mattingly said. "But, yeah, it crossed my mind."
Boras, who got word of his client's death before dawn Sunday in California, attended Monday's game.
"I think when you get here it hits," Boras said. "I spent the day with his mother. Very difficult. He pitched for her. I used to tease him. 'I'm going to take your mother on the road, because your ERA is a run and a half lower when she's in the stadium. Just tell me what advice she's giving you.' He would laugh."
That was Fernandez. Even when opponents bested him, he would find a way to laugh. But when he pitched at Marlins Park, he was usually the one with the winning smile.
"There's a lot of arguments that statistically he's one of the best of all-time at his age," Boras said.
Monday only the memory remained, along with a message scrawled in the dirt along the edge of the pitcher's mound that was his office.
It read: "Rest with God, Jose."
