Thursday, April 9
Sarah and me, circa 1990. Check out the Dick Tracy watch on my wrist.
Last night my son was watching the 2013 NBA finals, game 6. I so enjoyed the sound of sports coming from the living room as I cleaned up the kitchen. He is looking forward to a HORSE tournament that is going to be aired on ESPN on Sunday. NBA players matched in pairs, playing HORSE from their homes or home gyms. Edited and televised for sports fans like us. I hope that watching is fun and doesn’t bring back to the surface all of the feelings of missing sports that many of us in my family are managing.
Here’s what I found on ESPN, recorded here so I remember.
ESPN will televise an NBA HORSE tournament -- a single-elimination shooting competition -- beginning on Sunday, April 12, from 7 to 9 p.m. ET. The semifinals and championship of the NBA HORSE Challenge will air April 16, beginning at 9 p.m. ET, also on ESPN and streaming on the ESPN App. The contest will include NBA stars Chris Paul of the Oklahoma City Thunder, Trae Young of the Atlanta Hawks and Zach LaVine of the Chicago Bulls. WNBA stars will also participate, including Hall of Famer Tamika Catchings, along with NBA alumni Chauncey Billups and Paul Pierce.
We are a sports family. We watch them. We talk about them. We play them. My partner and I both have served as coaches, from youth sports through master’s. Our kids are all athletic. And at least one is interested in pursuing a sports-related career.
When, on Wednesday, March 11, an NBA player tested positive for Covid-19 and the entire NBA season was suspended — that was the beginning of a sports depression around here that causes that pit in my stomach. It’s going to be a long time before we tune in to any live sporting event. We all know this. And so we are looking forward to Sunday night’s contest.
The first line of a news story in today’s New York Times: “On March 1, there were 88 confirmed cases of the virus in the United States. By month’s end, there were more than 170,000.”
Today there are more than 460,000 cases in the U.S. Almost 19,000 in Massachusetts. 177 in my county.
I receive notifications during the day from CNN, The Washington Post, The New York Times, Twitter. I glance down, sometimes I click. News bytes embedding in my brain. More statistics, not the kinds we are usually talking about — rebounds, ERAs, completions. Instead, infections, deaths, ICU beds needed, masks distributed, money donated. I read a headline today — one of my notifications — that said something like “No appetite? Not sleeping? Can’t focus? You might be grieving.” We are all grieving. Our sleep schedules are off. Concentrating is a lost art. We eat at random times during the day, never all hungry at the same time. It’s OK. But it’s odd.
I haven’t gotten out for a walk in two days, and I’m restless. Yesterday I went grocery shopping. Today the pouring rain plus a wind advisory kept me inside. After I signed off of work I got into my bed and watched the first episode of Little Fires Everywhere, the TV series adapted from Celeste Ng’s book, which I read and enjoyed. I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I love Reese Witherspoon. So I sat on my bed, alone, watching a television program at 5:00 on a Thursday afternoon. The only other reality where this is a likely possibility is if I were sick. And here I am, doing my damnedest to not become sick. Watching TV. In my bed. Alone. On a Thursday evening. At home.
There is nothing to do but stay home. The mayor called again today, with a message about staying home. He was diagnosed with Covid-19 a few weeks ago and seems to be recovered. I am grateful for his direct message, his explanation, his orders to stay in. We are staying in. We have been. Many people, too. Also, there are others who are not. Who are running to the grocery store for one item (I saw several of these folks yesterday), or who are still congregating in parks, even though the parks are officially closed. Who are these people? Do they think they are immune? Do they not believe the science? Do they not care? Do they not have people they love, who love them?
These are questions I ask myself, as I think think think, all the time, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to anticipate what is coming next. But at this point, there is no sense to be made. The only certainly is more infections, more deaths. That is what is coming next. And again.
And I’m grateful there is another episode of Little Fires Everywhere for me to watch in the coming days.
Not at 7 p.m. on Sunday, though. We’ll all be gathering around in our sports paraphernalia, yelling at the TV while athletes take over our TV screen. I can’t wait.
Stay safe, everyone.