After a while, as teammates, coaches, clubhouse personnel and media members came by to console or commiserate, it didn’t feel like the 25-year-old closer merely blew the biggest save opportunity of his career in Game 5 against the Cardinals; it felt like a memorial service, in which Storen had to act the part of the strong-willed survivor to comfort all the other mourners.
Ten more minutes went by. What could possibly be said to ease the pain of being within one strike of a league championship series? Nothing. Not now.
Storen had the scruff of a developing beard working, but it hardly concealed his youth. He still looked like a kid barely out of his teens back from an Alaskan backpacking trip he took in August.
He kept staring straight ahead, his left hand now cupping his mouth, deep in thought. He didn’t need another person in uniform to tell him life was going to be all right in that very moment; he needed a parent’s shoulder to sob on.