Sports Illustrated - USA (2020-04)

APRIL 2020 39

series that cleared
the sports calendar.
Across town on
that mid-March day,
another basketball
coach, one of
slightly different
distinction, was
trying to prepare
his team to play in
front of no crowd.
Steve Kerr was on
the radio, discussing
how the Warriors
had become the
ÓijkE98k\Xdkf
bar fans, when his
phone lit up—alerts
from ESPN, texts.
“It went from, this is
going to be so weird
playing in front of
no fans to, less than
12 hours later, the
whole season was
suspended,” he says.
The Warriors,
like the Porcupines,

were shocked. For

many Americans,

sports are how

we mark our lives.

And yet now they’re

gone, at the very

moment they

could not seem

both less important

and a more

welcome diversion.

In retrospect,

I’m not sure why

I, or anyone, was

surprised. Earlier

that morning,

the World Health

Organization had

declared a global

pandemic and the

government had

warned against

sporting events.

Maybe what was

jarring was the

speed with which

reality shifted—

from the world

as it is to the world

as it was. Sports

have often served a

purpose during such

times, as a healing

or unifying element.

That’s why I

called Kerr that day.

@Ó^li\[`]Xepfe\

in sports could put

this in perspective

it might be him, a

man who lived in

Beirut, who is the

son of academics,

who can view it

through the prism

of both insider and

outsider. Like many

of us, Kerr said he’s

trying to grapple

with what’s going

on. His mother is

older. She’s doing

Óe\#Ylk_\nfii`\j%

His family and the

team follow best

practices: Leave

doors open so you

don’t need to touch

the doorknob.

Be vigilant for

symptoms. Lots

of hand-washing

and Purell. Like so

many of us, Kerr

and the Warriors

wait uncertainly,

unmoored from the

usual rhythms.

“I was trying to

compare this to

anything we’ve

ever been through,

and it is almost

impossible,” Kerr

said. “For the shock

value, the only thing

I can think of is

9/11. I remember

that morning, after

I went to my kids’

school to check

on them, I went

and shot baskets

because it was

cathartic, and I

remember watching

the World Series.”

He paused. “That’s

one of the great

things about sports.

You turn to it when

you need an escape

and you’re going

k_ifl^_X[`]ÓZlck

time, and so this

is pretty unique

when sports are

jg\Z`ÓZXccpklie\[

off. Obviously

there are way

more important

things right now,

people’s health

being No. 1 and

people’s livelihood

and jobs No. 2. I

don’t think anyone’s

feeling sorry

for themselves

because they can’t

watch sports, but

it’s jus t weir d. It’s a

strange vibe not

to go home and

turn on a game

just to escape.”

It’s easy to

magnify the

importance of

games but also

easy to diminish

them. If nothing

else, they provide a

constant in a world

short on them.

When I underwent

hip surgery a

few years back, I

k`d\[`kkfk_\Óijk

Saturday of the NBA

playoffs so I could

spend my days

laid up, watching.

I consider regular

pickup hoops to

fall somewhere

between exercise

and therapy. As

a family with two

middle-school-aged

daughters, our

schedule revolves

around practices,

clinics and games.

Now, we all have

to move on: fans,

pro athletes, college

seniors who’ve

spent their lives

preparing for one

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Ó]k_^iX[\ijfedp

basketball team.

Of course, this is

all trivial and even

weird to discuss in

the perspective of

life and death. Of

course suspending

games was the right

thing to do. But

nonetheless it adds

to the heartbreak

and disruption. The

feeling that the

world as we knew it

no longer exists.

—Chris Ballard