COLUMN: Fear and loathing from the world of sports

The importance of toilet paper has surpassed the need for sports in today’s pandemic world. (CONTRIBUTED)

By GRAHAM DUNN

What’s worse?

The fact that no sports are being played or will be played in the foreseeable future?

Or the fact the people are reliving old contests and describing them with play-by-play on social media? And acting as though we care about their version of “breaking news?”

No NCAA basketball tourney? No problem. Let’s make one up to keep the tradition flowing.

Desperate times.

But we have a new moment of dissent lending to this behavoior.

Forget that too much is being made about our new evil invader, at least in its ability to render oblivion to the major majority. The standstill of life has been too much to bear and we are just a few days into a timeframe that has no end or at least until we are hit with the next wave of catastrophic news.

As with most pandemics, the idea of one is usually more deadly than the actuality.

Health officials talk a good game and are doing a marvelous job of keeping the masses informed but as numbers are released, more concern is unearthed with them.

In its wake is the death of sports as we know it. Whatever the point of no return might be, and there will be one not including Tom Brady’s trade of New England blue for the hideous pewter of Tampa, there is proof again that anything is possible.

Is it too early to see a light at the end of this tunnel? Can we expect good news soon in that most of those diagnosed with the coronovirus (COVID-19) are getting well?

Does someone have a magic potion?

Or are we not ready to finish the pandemonium?

This is an old test with new test takers, a culture where immediate results cannot provide the needed relief (or in this case answers to it) and only reminders to how swell life must have been a week ago.

I should spend plenty of this writing discussing how the emblem of sports is sewn into the fabric of our very being but that might be considered too poetic and metaphorically too close to the idea of a contagion finding its way though the respiratory system.

Before you write your congressman, do not underestimate my understanding of the precautions taking place. The basic need for a semi-quarantine (or in some cases – full) has been necessary. The germ has taken all parts of our daily living right down to how we worship our God (whatever or whoever that god might be).

Work places are barren. Restaurants are reduced to take out. Grocery stores are… well, you know.

Liquor available in curbside pick-up form? The prediction here is a new normal for this procedure. “L’Chaim” and “don’t drink and drive” suddenly trade vows in an effort to keep the habit afloat… a new normal.

Beaches finally closed but is the damage already done? And what about roads and rivers? Let’s face it – they are filled with carriers, too.

We must agree there will be an end. But what will be left standing?

Nevermind the bad news, I’m getting ready for that first pitch in baseball or maybe the sounds of pads popping on a football field. It’s got to be just around the corner, at least that’s what they say.

So Play Ball!  Or something.