40 SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
¬MARK DOESN’T entirely remember the moment his world
fell apart. Shortly before tip-off on March 11 at the Big Ten
men’s basketball tourney in Indianapolis, the beer vendor,
who asked that we not use his last name, was stocking his
tub when he heard that the coronavirus’s spread had ended
spectator sports for the foreseeable future.
“It’s fuzzy,” Mark recalls. “I was so scared.”
Of COVID-19? On a good night he brushes hands with
more than 100 people as he takes their money and rubs
shoulders with hundreds more as he makes his way through
the stands—he is as good a candidate to catch the virus
as anyone. No, he says. “I was scared of losing my work.”
The toll sports’ cancellation will take on the thousands
of workers who rely on events for income, many making
minimum wage or less, is immense. As of March 16, at least
17 NBA teams, 21 NHL teams and three MLB teams have
pledged to support their game-day employees in some way.
Dozens of players, including NBA stars Zion Williamson and
Kevin Love, have donated in support of stadium workers.
But those pledges are expected to cover only thosedirectly employed by the teams and venues: ticket takers,
ushers, some concessionaires. Many venues use catering
companies, such as Aramark, Centerplate, Delaware North,
Legends Hospitality and Levy Restaurants, to provide food
and beverage service. Those firms, which combine for ap-
proximately $23 billion in annual revenue (based on public
filings and analyst estimates), often subcontract with other
businesses to staff the events. The walking vendors—the ones
who patrol the stands, hawking beer and popcorn—are clas-
sified as independent contractors. None of the food-service
companies returned a request for comment about whether
they planned to pay these workers during the shutdown.
Many lack employer health insurance or paid sick
leave. Some of them, unable to afford a day off, may have
unwittingly spread COVID-19. And many of them arrived
at vending after struggles with addiction or the law. They
may not have strong support systems to fall back on.
Billy Anderson, 51, lives outside Chicago and has a
15-year-old child with special needs. He can stay home
during the day while his wife works, then get to one of the
many stadiums within two hours’ drive to earn extra cash.
He had been cleaning his steering wheel with Lysol and
washing his clothes as soon as he got home. At the last
Blackhawks game before the shutdown, on March 11, the
vendors elbow-bumped goodbye. “I’m screwed,” he says.
“But there are people worse off than me.”
In Indianapolis, Mark got his last pay for a while: about
$40 in commissions and $75 in tips. Later that day he started
coughing. He has Medicaid, but he does not anticipate see-
ing a doctor or being tested for COVID-19. He doesn’t think
he has a fever. If the stadiums were open, he would Clorox
his tub and wash his hands and sell beer. He needs to eat.
“I’m really stubborn when it comes to that stuff,” he
says. He coughs again. —Stephanie ApsteinVENDOR
BEWARE
FOR INDEPENDENT CONTRACTORS
WHO SELL IN THE STANDS AT
GAMES, THERE’S NO SAFETY NETPAT
RICK (^) S
MIT
H/G
ET
TY
IMA
GES
CONCESSION
STRAND
A vendor in
Washington tidied up
before a Red Wings–
Capitals game on
March 12 that would
go unplayed.