I don’t believe in coincidences.

I don’t know why. It might be because of my age, past experiences or that I’m not as wired into religion as I should be.

I do believe everything happens for a reason. There are things we can’t control and they just happen.

One such thing happened to me Friday at about 12:15 a.m. I was driving home from the office, withdrawn and drained from a long day. I was questioning a lot of things after reporting on Nick Adenhart’s cruel and untimely death. My mind was a test pattern. My emotions were stuck on pause.

Then it happened, like it has so many times during the last few years. A song started playing on one of the 10 stations I power search and it all but stopped me in my tracks.

“I Will Remember You” by Sarah McLachlan started leaking quietly out of my speakers. The song wasn’t written for an instance like Nick’s, but the chorus called to thoughts that were lodged in the back of my mind and buried in my heart.

I will remember you

Will you remember me?

Don’t let your life pass you by

Weep not for the memories

I had just finished 14 hours of chasing down phone leads, interviewing Nick’s understandably distraught friends and coaches and writing about this senseless act. I was in reporter mode. I told myself I had a job to do.

All the while, a number of my colleagues — and even one of my sources — asked me if I was all right. They all knew I had a long working relationship with Nick. They were worried about how I was handling the news.

I did what I had to do, but when it came to writing my commentary, I went numb. I had so much on my mind, but I had nothing.

Nick didn’t like thinking about it, but he was news. Everyone wanted to know about the young pitcher who had a rocket arm, strong convictions and oodles of talent. They wanted to know everything about him. We became casual friends because I was the one lucky enough to be covering his story.

I will remember you

Will you remember me?

Don’t let your life pass you by

Weep not for the memories

Nick was destined to be a star. Everyone knew it.

From the minute he stepped on a Little League baseball field, there was no mistaking what was there. He was a bumper crop of talent, just waiting to be harvested.

I remember covering him when he was 12, playing Little League. I have a picture hanging on my desk of my interview of Nick following a game he pitched in the 2000 PONY World Series. I have looked at that photo often, even more over the course of the last three days.

His story grew. Nick excelled as a high school pitcher. He ripped up his elbow and had to have reconstructive surgery, ending his dream of becoming one of the first players selected in the 2004 amateur draft. In fact, it could have prevented him from being drafted at all.

But the Los Angeles Angels took a chance on him in the 14th round. Nick had the surgery and worked hard to get back in form. The story moved into rehabilitation and Nick’s process of regaining everything he took for granted.

He had a plan. He had desire.

He wanted to be heard as a professional pitcher.

I will remember you

Will you remember me?

Don’t let your life pass you by

Weep not for the memories

Nick hated to lose. He didn’t believe in failure. That word wasn’t in his vocabulary.

When Nick lost a game, it bothered him more that it let the team down. When Nick was injured, he wouldn’t allow a physical imperfection to take away from his perfect dream. And when he stumbled along the road to his ultimate goal of the majors, he caught his balance and picked up his pace with study, training and work.

On Wednesday, all the hard work started to pay off. He had his second chance to play for the Angels. He put together everything he learned and experienced into one fine performance against the Oakland Athletics. It wasn’t picture perfect, but six shutout innings with five strikeouts, a 3-0 lead and a standing ovation was a heck of a calling card to say he had finally arrived.

He was fulfilling what he told his dad earlier in the week, that something special was going to happen.

I will remember you

Will you remember me?

Don’t let your life pass you by

Weep not for the memories

Now, all we have are the memories.

After Nick finished his best game as a Major Leaguer in just his fourth start, he did the thing he hated the most. He was interviewed. He was becoming more than a guppy in the fishbowl world of Los Angeles.

He had finally made it. In the midst of all the microphones, cameras and notebooks, his manager and teammates congratulated him and held the door open for him and said “Welcome to the Major Leagues. You’ve made it.”

That’s all he ever wanted.

And then, shortly after, he was gone. Nick was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something ... someone he couldn’t control plowed into the side of the car he was riding in with three friends and brought an abrupt and horrific end to a life and a career that was just starting.

It is by no means fair. Was it a bad coincidence? I don’t know. Is there a reason why Nick was taken from us so soon? Maybe, but there isn’t a good one and it will take a long time to figure out.

What I do know is this: Nick did a lot in his 22 years, things that other people wished they could do, things that caused people to cheer for or pull against, things dreams were made of.

Nick was a young man who knew what he wanted. He had many friends because of what he represented both on and off the field. He was true to those friends and family. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer or become sidetracked when it came to his dreams.

Nick is gone, but proved belief and hard work can get you places. You can succeed if you don’t give up.

We will never know how far Wednesday night’s game would have taken Nick. He made it. Not many people are able to say they achieved an ultimate goal, especially at age 22.

He left this world while he was on top of it, even if it were for only a brief moment.

For that and those lessons, I will remember you, Nick Adenhart.