A 2009 crash killed an Angels pitcher. How Kurt Suzuki helped lone survivor heal

“Wow!”

The performance did not need any ratings other than exclamation points. Kurt Suzuki ran out of the visiting clubhouse at Angel Stadium to catch up with his friend.

In 2009, at the beginning of his first full season in the major leagues, Angels' threw the jug six shutout innings against Suzuki and the Oakland Athletics. On the US team, Suzuki was his catcher.

Suzuki congratulated the pitcher, shared his exclamation and – because that's what friends do – gave him a hard time.

Before the sun rose Nick Adenhart was dead. He was 22.

“The next morning I woke up and there were 10 text messages you don’t want to hear,” Suzuki said.

A drunk driver ran a red light and crashed into a silver sports coupe full of friends. He killed three of them, including Adenhart. One survivor: John Wilhite, who played baseball at Cal State Fullerton for Suzuki.

Sixteen years later, Wilhite and Suzuki have an everlasting connection. When the Angels introduced Suzuki as their new manager Wilhite was in the audience last month.

Their friendship is irresistible. Their story is touching. We'll get to that, but first Suzuki criticized Wilhite for wearing long pants on a sunny fall day in Manhattan Beach. Suzuki is wearing shorts and flip-flops.

“We’re on the beach, man,” Suzuki laughs.

Suzuki Eggs on Wilhite: Tell the story of the white suit.

In 2004 Fullerton won the College World Serieswith Suzuki as the All-American catcher and Wilhite as the redshirt catcher. In 2005, the Titans visited the White House.

“I didn’t have a suit,” Wilhite said. “I went to a men’s clothing store in Hawthorne by myself and this guy sold me a white suit.”

New Angels manager Kurt Suzuki (left) and general manager Perry Minassian talk to reporters at Angel Stadium last month. John Wilhite was in the audience.

(Greg Beacham/Associated Press)

On the day of the White House visit, his teammates thought the white suit was a joke. Dear reader, it wasn't.

Wilhite stood in line with his teammates, waiting to meet President George W. Bush. Shaking Wilhut's hand, the President looked at the suit and calmly said, “Bold move, son.”

Fullerton has won four College World Series championships, more than any other school except USC, Louisiana State, Texas and Arizona State. That's elite by any standard, but frankly surprising given the Titans' status as a financially challenging suburban school athletic program. The players believed in themselves because they couldn't count on anyone else to believe in them.

“It was like a brotherhood,” Suzuki said.

This drunk driver nearly killed Wilhite too. You can get chills just by saying out loud the medical term for what happened to him: internal decapitation.

Surgeons at the University of California, Irvine replaced his skull with his spine. The UCI then said: Only four people are known to have recovered from this injury.

Wilhite remained in the hospital for several weeks. in rehabilitation for several months. Suzuki, then in his second full season in the major leagues, raised more than $50,000. for the Wilhite Restoration Fund sourcing baseball memorabilia from veterans that could be sold or auctioned.

“Thankfully, with the money raised, I was able to spend a year getting myself into as good a physical condition as I could,” Wilhite said, “before returning to work.”

This money was not Suzuki's most valuable contribution to Wilhite's healing.

When Wilhite completed his rehabilitation program, Suzuki returned to Southern California in the midst of offseason training.

Hey, he told Wilhut, practice with me.

“Here’s a guy who’s a professional athlete getting ready for next year,” Wilhite said, “and I had a hard time walking.

“I showed up every single day and got stronger. That's when I really made progress. I wasn't just a patient. I felt like an athlete again.”

Even in those worst times, Suzuki was not averse to making fun of Wilhite. It seemed normal to both of them.

“He was still regaining his balance,” Suzuki said. “I was like, come on dude, don’t fall on me or everyone will be looking at us!”

Suzuki could make a modest donation to the Wilhite restoration fund. It would be a wonderful gesture.

Kurt Suzuki and John Wilhite, the only survivors of the crash that killed Nick Adenhart and two others.

Angels manager Kurt Suzuki (left) and John Wilhite were teammates at Cal State Fullerton. “Would you just write your family member a check? No, you'd be there for them,” Suzuki said of how he supported Wilhite after the accident.

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

This would not be enough for Suzuki. The Titans were family, and he still remembers Wilhite's father attending practice almost every day, sitting in the front row wearing his signature white bucket hat.

“Could you just write your family member a check?” – Suzuki said. “No, you will be next to him.”

The Angels honor their best pitcher every year with the Nick Adenhart Award. Suzuki can introduce him now and share his memories of Adenhart. Perhaps Wilhite could join Suzuki.

If he had done so, he would have been sure to share his memories of other victims: Courtney Stewart, 20, a Fullerton classmate whom he described as smart, funny and not at all afraid to tease her fellow players about their play; and Henry Pearson, 25, a law student and aspiring sports agent who Wilhite said never took a moment for granted.

We met at Marine Park in Manhattan Beach, where Pearson and Wilhite played youth baseball and where the memorial reads: “On April 9, 2009, Henry Pearson, Courtney Stewart and Nick Adenhart were killed by a drunk driver. John Wilhite miraculously survived and recovered. They remain an inspiration to us all.”

Some days more than others, Wilhite feels the miracle of survival, prayer and modern medicine. I asked him how he explains what happened to people who don't already know.

“I don’t usually like to drop that bomb on people,” he said. “I usually try to be vague.”

He knows he's lucky. He tries to remember this every day, but his thoughts never wander too far.

“Three of the best people I know lost their lives for a senseless act,” he said, “people with such hopes.”

With Thanksgiving approaching, I asked Wilhite if anything had come out of this horrific tragedy that he could be grateful for.

He paused. Grief may never completely go away. He had no intention of imposing an answer.

But after about a minute, he talked about the relationships he built with the Adenhart, Pearson and Stewart families, as well as the baseball community that supported him and the close friends who came to help him in his time of need.

“Like Kurt,” he said.

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