(Editor’s note: This is the original column completed before Gov. Brian Kemp closed schools for the year last Wednesday and the GHSA officially ended the 2019-20 sports season a day later. Little has changed, with a few updated thoughts in italics in parentheses)

 

          This is a nation loaded with folks who dismiss reality every day, so, for those who do prefer reality and logic and context and clarity, here we go.

          First, high school sports in Georgia are done for the year. That was pretty much the case before the social distancing guidelines were extended on Sunday to the end of April. (Alas …)

          That is said easily and painfully and logically. Now, move on.

          State postseason action was to start in mid-April. School is done for April. Sports are done for April.

          School concludes – too early under normal circumstances – at the end of May.

          It’s not even worth going into possibilities and what-ifs in the busiest – by far, for football season is a breeze by comparison – season of the year.

          Boys and girls track.

          Boys and girls tennis.

          Boys and girls golf.

          Boys and girls soccer.

          Boys and girls lacrosse. And baseball.

          The GHSA, the GISA, and GAPPS.

          And there are those who compete in more than one sport.

          The season must end for everybody, regardless of sport or gender, unless you’re publicly willing to screw over a sport and/or gender. If so, put your name on it. Regardless, there’s also the tendency no matter the situation for a faction to grumble.

So, when?

          There can be, in reality, no plans for anything – any place, any level, pretty much life in general - to start being discussed until we have 14 straight days of numbers going backwards. Minimum. And if there’s a bad number day – an increase – the clock starts over.
          Period. Period, period, period. All numbers; diagnosed, hospitalized, dead. There’s a tiny crack of flexibility.
          And if you thought for a second that was going to happen by Easter, well, there’s a smart-ass remark about the Easter bunny awaiting. Thankfully, and almost stunningly, that absurd timeline was quickly eliminated, but not after doing some damage about expectations and seriousness.
          We’re a few months away from being a few months away. At an optimistic minimum.
          In Georgia, from Sunday to Sunday, March 22 to March 29, Georgia’s numbers went from 620 diagnosed and 25 dead to 2,683 diagnosed to 83 dead. Went up 4.3 times and 3.3 times in a week.
         (As of noon Tuesday, April 7: 7,558 diagnosed cases, 294 dead.
          In nearly 2 1/2 weeks: from 25 to 294 dead, from 2,683 diagnosed to 7,558.
          More testing only means growing numbers. It’s simple – well … - logic.
          And it’s taking a lot of time to get tested. Georgia has 10.5 million residents. Less than 32,000 have been tested as of noon Tuesday, and about 23.8 percent of those tested are positive cases.
          Overall, three-quarters of one percent of those test have died, a hair under 300. Not a big number, unless you’re connected to one of them.)
          Sorry. Looked it up.
          And the connections to fatalities will grow and grow.
          Yes, it’s only going to get worse – to downplay as much is almost criminal, and sorry that “worse” is the proper word - and even when it winds down, we’re in new territory.
Don’t ignore the very real possibility of a second wave, especially considering how inconsiderate so many are at this late date to comply with guidelines, and thus not give a rat’s ass about the rest of us. As soon as there’s progress, pinheads will arrogantly go back to ignoring things.
          We’re not in this together, clearly, we’re just in it at the same time. Clearly.
          Then, how long until the all-clear is really all clear?
          The time frame for anything and everything once a truly safe all-clear is given is a mind-blowing one, making most any current timeframe discussion unrealistic (and discussions of such, especially about sports and schedules, moot) and irrelevant. That sucks in all forms to type and think about, but that’s reality and that’s life.
And life is bigger than sports.

          It’s so painful that we’re not going to have state champions – certainly not like we know them - for the spring of 2020. Unofficially, but realistically.

          That’s not being negative, that’s being – hold on, don’t yell – realistic, and logical.

          Yes, people want to play. Yes, people want to watch. Yes, everybody wants things to be the way they want it, the way they were.

          That’s over. (And for the spring, was over before it was official) Time to deal with it. Quit grousing about wanting to play/watch when people are dying and dying and dying, and people are working themselves into physical and mental exhaustion trying to save people from dying, and avoid dying themselves.

          Move on.

          No doubt ending the spring season is big. Phenomenally high suck level. But welcome to a life lesson unlike any other.

          Don’t think older folks are unaware of how much losing a few months of competition hurts. And will hurt.

          What young’ns – especially the ones still grousing about no more games - always fail to get this: We’ve been there, been you. We’ve aaaallll been 15, 16, 17, etc. We get it. By golly, some of us had these things called rotary phones, next to the TV that might’ve gotten 30 channels.

          Oh, do we get it, thus the lectures. We understand so much more than you think. Adults heard the lectures they’re giving, and most can empathize with what teens (especially the active ones) are feeling. But there’s a bigger – staggeringly bigger – picture.

          (And kids, be prepared for this little kick in the head: parents – many - were more right than you’ll want to admit for the next two or three decades.)

          But if this is the worst thing that happens to you the teen for the next year, for the two years, that you couldn’t play some games, then you’re luckier than about everybody you’ll know.

          People, family members, young and old, healthy a month ago, are dying. Family members are dying. People are losing jobs, and will lose homes. Even if through some miracle this started clearing up in a month, it’d be too late for millions to salvage the life they had when 2020 started. And they can’t be in the same room to say goodbye, can’t hug or kiss somebody for a final time.

          People, perhaps millions around the world, will lose everything, or almost everything. Perhaps not, but … And we have no idea when it’ll change, for the better or worse.

          Don’t wait for it to hit close to you to grasp all this. God’s paying attention to the people who care about people they don’t know (while trying to grasp the smothering amount of people who don’t).

          Dust off a history book – or watch something – and peek at the depression in the 1920s, the Dust Bowl, World War II. Not as a student trying to stay awake and get a grade, but as somebody of substance trying to actually just learn on their own (that change in attitude will come in a few years, too, when boring at 16 becomes interesting at 36).

          For all the talk of sports teaching about life, it doesn’t come close to the lesson we’re all amid right now, because this actually is life (and death), not a motivational tool or another Twitter motto post.

          It’s a whole lot bigger than a game. So much more teamwork than many seems to grasp.

         So please, let’s cease with woe-is-us stuff. Believe it: this all sucks severely, for everybody. Moreso those who have died and will die, and their families.

          Part of our progress and adjustment mentally and emotionally must come from adults – media, parents, coaches, teachers – doing a better job of preparing kids for these realities, and not coddling them. Too many still are falling short of doing the proper job.

          Again, we get it. But stories on pining about a lost season – and yes, scholarship opportunities - are fairly superficial, and of no help. Plus, they’re remarkably redundant. Pandering, coddling and placating don’t help, because no, it’s not about those who aren’t playing.

          It sounds harsh, but this isn’t about that, and shouldn’t be. A little more selflessness, please.

          People are dying, and ya know, we’re trying to keep that number as low as possible, like countries and civilized people have tried to do before. There’ll be another track meet and soccer game, so to still be frowning in the media or social media is a bit much.

          “Dude. Harsh.”

          Well, that’s where we are. We need to get past this stage and begin adjusting rather than pouting. Bow up. Hunker down. And pray.

          The event that really matters that’s likely done is the graduation ceremony, high school and college.

          This is crushing. Graduation is a life event, period. For high school kids and family, and college grads and family, for many more people than sporting events. The celebration of the work and investment is just huge. It’s a celebration for so many, the exclamation point reward after years of hard work towards a life of success.

          And to not have the cap and gown, to not walk, to not flip the tassel, to not spend half an hour afterward hugging people and taking pictures?

          I’m not sure I can adequately say how big the ceremony is and how devastating it is if canceled. Graduation will always be bigger than games. And streaming or Zoom ain’t the same.

          You only get one high school graduation, and you can’t delay it too long. Nope, not forgetting proms, either, nor colleges.

          Man, it just hurts to think about.

          Add it all up, and it’s so painful, but it’s also time to cease harping on it publicly – media, social media, airwaves, etc. - and “awwww” and all every day and every day and every day, and move on. Work on feeling better, not bad or worse. Too many pity parties out there.

          There are positives to be gained from every tragedy, and personal growth and opening of minds and increasing knowledge are positives. We’ll get to enjoy the games – watching and playing and discussing – soon enough (comparatively so) even while not being able to re-live these days and events we’ve lost.

But we’ll not get those lives back, nor – hopefully – another such chance to change our lives for the better.

          Maybe we owe it to those who have lost and will lose their lives – and those fighting to save lives - to gain more out of our own. Can’t hurt to try.