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

