I was around the Nick Adenhart story for two days.

The Angels’ young right-hander, their best pitching prospect, died early Thursday morning after being involved in a grinding auto accident in Fullerton, when a guy driving with a suspended license, apparently drunk, ran a red light and slammed into the small car Adenhart and three others were riding in. Two people in the car with Adenhart died immediately. He succumbed at the hospital.

What did I learn in the two days subsequently?

That the Angels organization is every bit as classy and savvy off the field as it is on it.

Their reaction to the crisis was pitch perfect. Dealing with Adenhart’s stunned father, Jim. Canceling the game Thursday night. Organizing the press conference Thursday morning at which the police and team officials appeared. Allowing fans to grieve by putting up a makeshift memorial on the patio behind home plate — and letting it stand all the way through Friday night.

Finding the right guys to speak to the media before the Friday game. Making owner Arte Moreno available, as well as manager Mike Scioscia and pitching coach Mike Butcher.

Pulling off a dignified, heart-felt but not schmaltzy or overly indulgent pre-game tribute to Adenhart before Friday’s game.

I don’t know how the specifics of how this all came together. But I am convinced two members of the Angels’ inner circle were critical figures in the handling of the crisis:

Scioscia, and Tim Mead, vice president, communications.

Scioscia was the public face of the organization, dignified, shaken but under control. Others choked up and lost it. Scioscia grieved but kept his emotions (at least in public) in check.  Moreno described him, Friday, as “a rock.”

I used a few of Scioscia’s pre-game comments in the New York Times story I posted earlier. Here is more of what he said, calmly, deliberately.

How do you get through something like this? “There’s certainly no template, no instruction manual for what’s happened, and unfortunately it happens every day in our world and it happened to touch us this week in tragic way. I know there are some professionals who are available, and we have some guys who will talk through with some guys if they need it. … Our hearts lie wtih the Adenhart family. … As tough as we feel as an organization,  it pales in comparison to when you lose a son.”

Going forward? “It’s gonna take some time. There’s a lot of guys in that room, even though Nick was only with us a little bit last year and this year, who played with Nick in the minor leagues and knew him well. Everyone has a heavy heart. Nobody in that room who doesn’t. How do you get through it? This game of baseball has a way of focusing you on the field, where you play baseball. The easiest time for these guys will be between the lines, when they’re playing the game. It was extremely tough to come to the ballpark (Thursday). I don’t think anybody slept last night. It was tough in our prep meeting for the Boston Red Sox, but once you play the game it becomes almost a haven. The least of our worries will be playing baseball, and we’ll deal with the rest of it it as we go along.”

About having the Thursday meeting: “Things happened quickly. There was no doubt the team would get togher. I dont think any of us had an idea what would happen. There was no script. It was probably as important to every player in that room as it was to Mr. Adenhart. We started a process it will take a while to work through.”

On how players would feel before the game. “Of course, we’ll be overcome by emotion, every player is overcome by emotion. But when you get on the field, this game has a way of focusing you. It will be a process. It’s not like you turn the page and you’re fine. It’s not like a tough loss.”

On whether he took any pride in giving Adenhart a chance to pitch, the night he died. “Nick earned that by hard work, and he pitched an incredible ballgame. … This was a special kid. … After the game, we lost the lead late, it was a tough loss, Nick showed the presence to know that there were some guys who didn’t perform like they wanted to and were feeling the pain of  a tough loss and he tempered his enthusiasm for the way he pitched in respect for some of the other guys in that clubhouse. … So proud of this kid (and the growth he showed) from time he was 18 till he was 22. … If there’s anything we can give Jim and Janet, it’s how proud we were of him on the field and off of it.”

Did he feel anger at the perpetrator of the accident? “The circumstances were tragic. Not much you can say about the accident that will make anyone feel any better.  Not much that will happen to that guy that was driving the other vehicle that will make anyone feel any better or make this go away.”

I’ll get to some quotes from Joe Saunders, Dustin Moseley and Mike Butcher in a moment, but before we get any farther, let’s appreciate some of the finer moments of the pre-game. Again, I don’t know how this came together, but I am convinced Scioscia and Mead — who has been with the organization for 30 years — were the key figures in it.

Mead was critical in striking a balance between allowing media access to team personnel and shielding players from too much intrusion too soon. Sure, reporters found it frustrating to be blocked from talking to players after the emotional Thursday clubhouse meeting, or to any players before Friday’s game (Saunders and Moseley, aside), but it probably was a good decision.

Mead also was involved in being with Adenhart’s father (and, later, his mother) after the accident. He was there when they went to Nick’s locker in the clubhouse and removed some mementos for their own keeping. I believe Mead and Scioscia probably conferred on the decision to keep Adenhart’s locker just as he left it,  Wednesday night. And to play with a patch of Adenhart’s number (34) on players uniforms. And I see the handiwork of Mead in getting the picture of Adenhart and his number onto the outfield wall in time for Friday’s game.

And the pre-game. Simple, yet moving. After the anthem was sung, there was a pause, and the video board played a 75-second tribute to Adenhart. I don’t know where the Angels got some of that footage of the kid from high school, but they had it. And the video was played as audio of “Calling All Angels” by Train played on the loudspeakers. It’s something of a team theme, but it was particularly apt here.

Then the players and coaches from both teams came out of the dugouts and stood on each baseline, caps off. John Lackey, an Angels lifer, joined Torii Hunter, whose reputation as the most solid of citizens (and the sort of conscience of the team) traveled with him from Minnesota to Anaheim, went to the pitchers mound and held up Adenhart’s jersey.

We wondered if there would be a ceremonial first pitch. Earlier in the day, the media relations department thought a “member of the Adenhart family” would throw out that pitch, presumably Jim Adenhart, but he apparently was not up to it. And rather than find some substitute, the Angels came up with a better idea.

There was a call for a moment of silence. Though everyone already was silent. After 32 second, the public address announcer intoned, “Let’s play ball!” and the crowd applauded.

And later it struck me that by taking Adenhart’s jersey to the mound, the Angels had implied that Nick had thrown out the first pitch. It was simple, unstated but there to be deduced.

Then they played, and well. At the end, I believe it was no accident that Scioscia left Scot Shields, another Angels lifer, in the game in the ninth inning for what ought to have been a closer situation — for new addition Brian Fuentes.

When the game ended, Scioscia wanted one of his own to be the pitcher who made the last out, and Shields was grimly satisfied, not giddy. As Scioscia knew he would be.

It was all just right. A tribute, but not a cloying one. Grief but not misery. Sympathy but but not immobilizing sorrow.

It was a fine couple of days by perhaps the best-run organization in professional sports. And I give Scioscia and Mead credit for leading it — and Arte Moreno credit for letting them.

I also was impressed by Joe Saunders and, especially, Dustin Moseley, who showed poise and maturity while sitting behind a table — and in front of a couple dozen reporters and a half-dozen television cameras.

More of their comments, first from Moseley:

On finding out about adenhart’s death: “My little brother texted and said I’m sorry to hear about Nick. I jumped out of bed. I lost my dad in ’04 so it was sort of the same thing that came over me. It was like I was in a drean. It was unreal. I got to know him well last year, in the stands, doing charts together. My brother is a pitcher, and he is the same age as Nick, but the things Nick said to him, they were on the same level, but Nick seemed so much more mature. That’s the way the morning started for me. I pretty much cried. And then I got to the park and kinda started again when you get to the tunnel and see his name on his locker … I saw him throw in Arizona, and he was coming off a Tommy John (elbow surgery) and  I couldn’t believe the arm I saw.  He was one of the coolest, most unique guys around.  He had style. He could do mannerisms, voices and looks.  Not just baseball talent.”

Reflecting on the event: “It brings out out of the baseball bubble that we live and makes you think about yourself as a player and a person and think, `Wow, what kind of impact am I making?’  I admired his confidence, and I’m five years older than he is. … We had the meeting with Sosh, we met his dad. I can’t even explain how I felt to see that what his dad was having to go through. I had to bury my dad, but I can’t even imagine burying my son. His dad and mother, and he has a brother, they should be so proud of him. I saw the growth and maturity that he came to. Everyone who knows Nick, they’re proud. I’m proud to know him, and I’m sure God is proud to know him now, too.”

On his interactions with Adenhart after the Wednesday game: “He had a blue EA shirt on. Because after a loss you’re not happy, I remember patting him on the back and telling him he did a great job. … I saw him again, after he did some interviews, and I told him the same thing. … He worked so hard, and for him to throw six scoreless, and I’ve been up and down, and there’s such a sense of accomplishment and you feel like you belong.”

More feelings: “A sense of shock and you can’t believe this has just happened. A guy who didn’t get to do all the things I’ve done, like get married and all these things. We loved the guy. He had leadersip skills. The guys his age at Salt Lake City, they were drawn to him. I was drawn to him. When you lose someone like that, it hurts deep down. … To lose that, there’s always going to be a void there for me.”

What he said to him before he pitched, Wedneday. “I asked him, ‘Are you excited about tomorrow? And he said ‘Yeah,’ but the way he said, it was like he was a 10-year vet. There wasn’t any shyness to it. He was ready to go. He was ready to go.”

On Adenhart calling his father and telling him to come to California because “something special was going to happen.” “Sometimes we say things and we don’t even know why we say them or why they came out. I’m a spiritual person, and for him to say that and for him to react to that, I’m sure his father is so glad he got to see him.”

On the team meeting Thursday: “Mr. Adenhart got up. He told us a couple things that Nick liked about being with us, but he had a tough time saying anything, and you can totally understand that. The things the players were able to tell Mr. Adenhart and give him a hug … I think for a second it brought Nick back a little because we were big boys and Nick was a big boy and he gives a hug … This thing trickles all the way down, from players and parents and little people, and we know more about each other now. … It’s not going to be over any time soon, it’s going to with us for a while. Any time a tragedy like this happens, if we keep the right attitude, some great things can come out of this.”

On dealing with grief: “You don’t know how you’re going to feel. It come in waves. But I know I will go out there and compete for the fact that i’m still getting to live out a dream of mine. Sometimes baseball becomes so big to us, and in the game of life, it’s really, really small. … It’s a look i see in guy’s eyes — these things aren’t supposed to happen.”

On his and Saunders’ goals in their next starts: “Hopefully, we both throw no-hitters and dedicate it to Nick.”

Saunders, on his reaction to the news: “It was one of the toughest things I’ve had to go through, not only as a player but as a person. I really didn’t get to know Nick that well, but we had so many things in common, it was crazy.”

On the team meeting: “It as one of the msot emotional things I’ve ever been through. I just remember leaving the stadium and calling my dad and going home and hugging my daughter and wife. It just puts it in perspective about what’s really important in this world.  It really opens your eyes to what’s imporrtant. It was a special thing, and his parents appreciated it, and it was good for me to get to know him. He was my locker mate, and I got to know him. My mom is from Silver Springs (Maryland), and I spent a lot of time there, and we’re both Redskins fans and he wore the same Redskins shirt I did last year. The things about coming up and struggling to stay here, I know his start meant a lot to him and to his teammates, too.  He wanted to show he belonged here. His last start made him feel good and made me smile.”

After the Wednesday game? “We ended up losing the game, so there wasn’t much joy and happiness. I just remember him sitting there and me giving him a pat on the back and saying, ‘Hey, great job.’ … He pitched well and got out of a lot of jams. That’s the last thing I said to him, the last time I saw him. I wish I’d said more now. That’s what pitchers do, try to pick up each other. He gave us a chance to win, and I know he was proud of that, elated that he pitched such a great game.”

On the team meeting: “I don’t even remember. You say what you mean to say, you say what comes from your heart,  and that’s what Sosh said and Tony (Reagins, general manager) said and his dad talked a little about us and how important he felt about us. I haven’t cried since I was 11, and I cried. To see the emotion on his dad’s face, it tears your heart apart. … It was a really hard meeting, let’s put it that way.”