We knew that the teams would show up. We knew the best athletes would be there, all at the appointed time.
There would be order. It could be 82 games or 162 games or 16 games, and it would somehow lead to a champion decided through a system only decipherable to the faithful. There would be 60 minutes or 90 minutes or three periods or four quarters or nine innings, because there are lives to plan around these games and life isnt a test-cricket match.
There would be rules and uniforms and officials to keep things fair.
There would be things to complain about, because that is part of the ritual, too, and just enough hope to maintain devotion. It is the hope that binds the ritual.
Cruel, these diversions, taken away just when we needed them most.
But that is the lesson of 2020, isnt it? The reminder that losing a game is not the worst kind of loss. Not even close.
But where do sports fit in now? Is it the same place as before?read more
Our Altered View of Sports After 2020
