An awkward, eerie silence
- Joseph Bourg
- Mar 18, 2020
- 3 min read
Updated: Mar 19, 2020
The sounds of sports are deafening.
The incessant bouncing of a basketball. The reverberating smack of a baseball against a bat. The booming collisions that define a football game. The roar of a crowd.
The noise can be so overwhelming that silence is almost unfathomable.
On the evening of March 11, the noise was silenced.
I remember where I was when the New Orleans Hornets won their first-round series against the Dallas Mavericks after the winningest regular season in franchise history. I was sitting in the ninth seat of the twenty-third row of section 109 in the New Orleans Arena, just as I had in all 41 regular-season games and the first two home games of the series.
I remember where I was for the seventh game of the 2016 NBA Finals. I was sitting in a living room recliner, watching the Cleveland Cavaliers rise from the dead to defeat the Golden State Warriors in a seven-round heavyweight fight. I watched Kyrie Irving hit the biggest shot and LeBron James secure the biggest block in Cleveland's franchise history with my dad.
I remember where I was when news broke of Rudy Gobert's positive test for the coronavirus. I was sitting on a bench in a weight room, and when news broke moments later that the NBA had subsequently suspended its season, reality ceased to be real.
In the 24 hours since Gobert tested positive for the virus that has infected thousands around the world, the dominos fell faster than the speed of sound. The MLB decided to cancel the remainder of its spring training games and postpone the start of its regular season. The NHL chose to follow the NBA's lead and suspended its season. The SEC, ACC, Big 10 and Big 12 were among 19 conferences to cancel the remainder of their men's basketball tournaments.
Around 4 p.m., the biggest domino crashed to the ground when the NCAA announced that the remainder of its winter and spring championships had been canceled. By the end of the workday on March 12, the only sounds left were the stunned gasps of millions of fans (and the shredding of a few mock brackets for the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament).
Friday the 13th of March was a day frozen in time. ESPN, the network that always had sports to show, suddenly had no more sports to show. The biggest news of the day was another postponement: The Masters, golf's most storied tournament, would not take place in its traditional second weekend of April spot. The UFC pledged to be the lone holdout, hosting a match card in Brazil over the weekend without fans, but when the White House suggested that gatherings of more than 10 people cease, the last holdout fell like the rest.
In the week since Oklahoma City became ground zero for the halting of the sporting world, time itself has felt a lot slower. Gobert was the first player to be publicly confirmed to have tested positive for COVID-19, but he has since been joined by others, Kevin Durant and Donovan Mitchell the headliners among them. An unnamed Seattle Dragons player tested positive. An unnamed Ottawa Senators player tested positive. Multiple European soccer players received similar news, prompting the halting of the seasons of one of the world's most beloved sports.
The threat is very real. The virus is an equal-opportunity infector, and its effect on every walk of life is paralyzing. Louisiana alone has seen nearly 300 positive cases, a number that climbs daily without resistance. The total number of worldwide cases has reached more than 200,000. It stands to believe that it may be a while before the world returns to normal.
If there are any encouraging thoughts to hang onto, sports can be a good place to look to. Every bounce of the ball, crack of the bat and hard-earned victory are reminders that resiliency and fortitude can be catalyzing forces. The real world is no different.
In time, I believe that the gears will begin to turn and normal life will resume again. Resiliency, fortitude and social awareness will win out. For the good of us all, it must.
Until then, there is silence. Jarring, ominous silence.
Cover photo from John Karalis.
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