homegame

Turns Out I Do Care If I Ever Come Back

Sports are a leading indicator of the coronavirus. The suspension of the NBA after Rudy Gobert tested positive for the virus marks the point where most Americans started to think "hey, this is really serious," the start of the social distancing policies that now shape our lives.

Three weeks later, and no fan I know thinks the NBA or NHL will resume their 2019-2020 seasons. Baseball is hanging by a thread. Maybe there will be a season starting on let's say July 4. And maybe not. Golf's a very good leading indicator. The Open is likely going to be canceled. The US Open, PGA and the Masters are looking to be held, they hope, in October and November. They are blowing off summer, golf's chosen season, because the well-to-do and well-connected people in charge of the sport figure that's what America will be doing as a whole. And of course, the Olympics have already been postponed to the summer of 2021.

Only the NFL, our richest sports organization, is going cheerfully (well, not universally so) ahead with the idea its season will kick off as scheduled in early September, although it has acknowledged much of its preseason is gone. Since OTAs, rookie camps and most of training camp is closed to the public anyway, this has no impact on fans.

I sure hope the NFL and golf are correct in their assumptions as to the course of the virus's disruption of our society. I doubt it, but let's say they are. I have another question for the sports world. When the game restart, who's gonna go to them?

I won't. In all likelihood, I won't be allowed to. The world is going to reopen in fits and starts. Mass gatherings such as sports events will be way down the list of things allowed to reopen. Even when they are, I am fairly sure that as a senior and thus part of an age group at high risk of the virus's worst effects, I will be encouraged or mandated to maintain stay at home procedures long after the games begin again.

And that's cool by me. I'd dearly love to go to Fenway, or down to a Cape League game, but not at the price of risking my life. I don't miss American League relief pitching that much. I pay for an exorbitant cable television package for the very luxury of staying home with access to more sports than I can absorb on any day.

The suspicion in this old's mind is that many of the majority of not-old sports fans are going to share my sentiments on the happy day the authorities decide the world of games can resume its wonderful if trivial pursuits. Who's going to be first to venture out for a third-base line, 40-yard line, or courtside seat? Who's going to eat that first hot dog that's been passed from hand to hand from the aisle to Seat 22?

Someone will. Not as readily as people will hit the bars once more, perhaps, but there are so many sports fans, and they calculate risks no better than do non-sports fans. Worse most likely. What is rooting for a team than a poor estimate of emotional risks?

But I'm not sure there will be overflow crowds, not at first. And I'm damn sure that if the pro sports want live audiences, ticket price bargains had best be offered as well. Spending every waking hour thinking about how the outside world is trying to kill you does stuff to the mind. An economic depression does stuff to the wallet. We've got both those dilemmas on our hands. So does sports.

I spend half my non-virus worrying time desperately wishing for sports to return. I spend much of the other half wishing just as desperately sports err on the side of caution, for their own good.

If the all-clear is sounded, and there's a renewed virus outbreak traced to a spectator sports event
(you just know it'd be an SEC football game), then spectator sports as a business might not survive.
The government would never shut it down for keeps. But fans could, voting for their lives with their feet.

posted by Michael Gee @ 9:20 AM