O
n March 11, I sat in my small,
dimly-lit apartment watching
ESPN as footage came in of
health officials sprinting out onto the
court of Chesapeake Energy Arena
in Oklahoma City, setting off a delay.
Minutes earlier there was no official
explanation for the delay to the start of
Jazz vs. Thunder, but now there was —
Jazz center Rudy Gobert tested positive
for coronavirus.
Sports
actualized
the
threat
of
COVID-19 to the American public. After
the chaos in Oklahoma City, numerous
leagues across the globe, like the Big
Ten and the Premier League, made
plans to move forward and hold games
without fans. One scene made me realize
that sports would not be able to go on:
the image of Nebraska men’s basketball
coach Fred Hoiberg. In an early round
of Big Ten Tournament play, Hoiberg sat
on the sidelines, visibly ill. Sweat poured
from his forehead as he was doubled
over on the bench, clearly not feeling
well. The assistant to his left put on hand
sanitizer. Twitter was ablaze with fans
questioning why Hoiberg was on the
court, seemingly putting his team and
others in danger. While he eventually
did not test positive for COVID-19, the
scene of him interacting with players and
referees while visibly ill left a collective
thought: What the hell is he doing out
there? What the hell are we doing, letting
him be out there?
As a fan of European soccer, I saw
the sporting world’s first response to
COVID-19 a week earlier. Serie A, the
Italian soccer league, initially moved to
play “behind closed doors” — no fans,
just teams and media. League leaders
Juventus met challengers Inter Milan
at an empty Allianz Stadium. The eerie
shouts of jubilation rang out from the
Juventus bench as Argentinian forward
Pablo Dybala scored a second goal to seal
the win for the Old Lady.
Days later in England, the same day
as the incident with Gobert, Liverpool
Football Club attempted to come back
against Atletico Madrid in the second
leg of their UEFA Champions League
tie. Anfield, the home of the Reds, was
packed to the gills and filled with song.
Liverpool manager Jurgen Klopp walked
on to the pitch, greeted by fans putting
their hands out to get a last-minute
high-five. Klopp, normally one of the
most friendly and flamboyant figures in
world soccer, shouted at the fans, “Put
your hands away you f*cking idiots!”
Watching the video back, it’s obvious that
Klopp was seething. As COVID-19 began
to engulf Europe, Klopp knew holding a
game was, as he described it, “criminal.”
I held out hope. I hoped the University
of Michigan’s men’s basketball team
would be able to make a run in the
NCAA tournament, even with no
fans. I prayed that Chelsea Football
Club, my team, would be able to play
their next Premier League match
against Aston Villa. I looked forward
to the Masters with optimism,
hoping to see Tiger Woods defend his
title — Surely it will be over by then,
I thought.
Now, it’s April 15, 2020, and a
return of sports seems distant.
A return of sports with packed
stadiums feels near impossible. Who
would’ve thought that my last game
at The Big House might be the last
one for years, not months?
To many, and to me early on,
sports seemed immune to the virus.
Games and matches could continue
on, without fans if needed. Athletes
with their health and physical ability
could push through any infection.
With over 604,000 cases in the
United States as of April 14, it’s clear
nothing is immune to COVID-19. Schools,
restaurants and small businesses are all
shuttered. This spring, it’s guaranteed
there won’t be any rabid crowds of
Michigan fans on South University
Avenue celebrating a trip to the Final
Four, no matter how slim the chances
already were.
Moments of joyous celebration like
when the University reached the National
Championship in 2018 showcases the
feeling of community triumph created
by sports. Now, charging out of the Blue
Leprechaun onto the street to celebrate
victory seems unimaginable. In times
like these, with people dying from
COVID-19 at alarming rates each day,
with people shuttered in their homes
and away from loved ones, that common
thrill and excitement that sports bring is
needed — something communities across
the country can root for and unite behind
is needed.
Even in times of violence and terror,
sports were there. Mere weeks after
9/11, then-President George W. Bush
strode out onto the field at Game 3 of
the World Series in the Bronx, donning a
Fire Department of New York jacket and
delivered a first pitch straight down the
middle. Say what you will about the damn
New York Yankees and say what you will
about George W. Bush, but that first
pitch in 2001 offered the same unity we
could use now. It offered something we
could rally behind and get away from the
realities of everyday life — distract from
the horrors and tragedy wrought. I’m
not old enough to remember the moment
live, but watching it again on Youtube,
quarantined in my apartment, there is
an undeniable energy of optimism and
strength to move forward.
Our country can only dream of a
moment like that now. We cannot gather
in a stadium to heal together, and to
parallel Bush’s Fire Department of New
York jacket — a symbol recognizing
our collective strength and pride — the
present-day jacket would have to be a
bit larger to accommodate the doctors,
nurses,
caregivers,
grocery
store
workers, postal workers and more who
have sacrificed in this widespread battle
against this virus.
For some, the virus denies a stalwart
of everyday life. In most of my waking
moments of the year that were not spent
in class or with other people, I listened
to soccer podcasts — Men in Blazers,
Talking Tactics, London is Blue Podcast,
the Football Daily, to name a few.
Now, with virtually all sports canceled
indefinitely, I no longer get to wake up at
7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning to watch
the Premier League. I didn’t get to make
a bracket for the NCAA Tournament. I
didn’t get to watch the Masters on my
computer in class on Thursday and Friday.
It seems juvenile, and to a degree it is, but
the shared adoration for something that
transcends boundaries of politics, race,
nationality and religion isn’t replicable.
That adoration seems normal until we
step back and see the uniqueness of it —
so many of us distract ourselves in the
same way through sports.
There’s also something to be said for
the most vulnerable populations being
robbed of seeing their teams succeed.
My great-grandfather Richard Robin-
son, better known as Pop to his loved
ones, lived his whole life in Massachu-
setts and always rooted for the Boston
Red Sox. When the Red Sox won the
2004 World Series and broke the Curse
of the Bambino, Pop witnessed it all.
The following year, he passed away at
the age of 93. A pennant from that year
hangs in my childhood room to this day.
There were similar stories when
the Chicago Cubs won in 2016. Those
moments of jubilation and the moments of
relief and celebration might not come for
fans for some time in the wake of COVID-
19. Liverpool haven’t won a league title in
England in 30 years. As things stand in
the Premier League table, Liverpool are
only a couple wins away from clinching
their title that has seemed inevitable
since December. No one knows when, or
if, they will be able to resume their march
to glory. Some supporters will likely have
to spend another year waiting for their
triumph.
For all the virtues of sports and my
love for them, I do not advocate for their
imminent return. Those who are pushing
to return to sports soon are kidding
themselves and endangering both fans
and athletes. At this point, I don’t think
there will be another Saturday at The
Big House with 100,000 fans until there
is an effective treatment or vaccine for
COVID-19. Sports might be what the
country needs, but they are not what
it deserves. Whenever sports return
with fans in seats, it will undoubtedly
be a special moment — a true mark of
victory. With any hope, fans can sit in
the sun, take in a game and recognize
those who sacrificed and saved to get us
back to what we crave right now: safety,
normalcy and peace.
Wednesday, April 15, 2020 // The Statement
7B
With no sports, there’s a void
BY FINNTAN STORER, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT
ILLUSTRATION BY MICHELLE FAN