High school football? A complex question for a polarized society
What Ralph Potter wanted to say, he felt like it wasn't being said enough.
So he sat down last weekend and started typing.
As of Thursday, the Facebook post authored by Potter – a successful, veteran football coach who was formerly at Brentwood Academy and currently at Chattanooga's Mccallie School – had more than 1,300 shares. It has grown legs of its own, being mentioned in national media circles.
“I guess I struck a nerve, I suppose,” Potter said. “I hope it kind of gives a voice to a lot of educators and a lot of coaches out there that feel the loss that I'm talking about. And the parents and kids.”
Once the TSSAA on Wednesday introduced guidelines and potential dates for what a high school football season would look like in 2020, it invited lines to be drawn.
Easy was one conclusion: Nope. There goes Tennessee, like these other southern states, recklessly putting love of football ahead of the health of its citizens.
In reality, this was a yellow light, not green or red. It's still uncertain if they'll play on time – if at all. It's uncertain if fullcontact practices can even happen in early August. The season could still be delayed or even halted, for example, by order of the governor if cases continue to worsen.
But the TSSAA also didn't say, “No, they can't play this fall.”
And so, it was basically a Rorschach test for anyone to see what he or she wants.
Much like Potter's take. His more than 700 words were smart and thoughtful, reasoned and fair to all sides. Yes, he advocated for the season to happen in Tennessee, as you'd expect a coach would, but he didn't downplay a “real” and “ongoing” threat of COVID-19.
He instead weighed the risks against the costs of not playing while asking a very good question: “What's the end point of this?” When might the threat of COVID-19 disappear, if ever? What if this is our new reality? What if the disease never truly goes away?
“What these young people lose,” Potter wrote, “they will never get back, and the longer this goes on, the more catastrophic the loss becomes. … We have to begin to think of what the world looks like if COVID-19 never goes away. For my part, I do not accept the last three-and-a-half months as a model for what that world will be.”
Even if you'd dismiss such thoughts as unwise or dangerous, they were worth your attention. Because when I said, “fair to all sides,” I trust you understood what I mean.
Given the hyper-politicized climate in this country, we've lost the ability to find common ground. The societal debate about sports – or schools or businesses or whatever else - returning in a pandemic has become no different. It's everyone to their corners, surely too for a debate that has the potential to be more passionate than most.
High school football probably shouldn't be a flashpoint, but it might be. While not that significant in the grand scheme, how many other activities are so wide-reaching, forging identities of communities – and unifying people -- in all regions and states, not to mention teaching lessons for young students advocated by Potter?
“It's very easy just to go, ‘They can't play,'” Potter said Thursday. “And believe me, it's hard to do it. Dealing with this stuff, I was telling somebody today, ‘It's like a kaleidoscope.' You have to think about every movement of every person that is under your care every day. … You'll think you've got it all set and right, and you'll remember some factor that you forgot to put into that kaleidoscope picture, and the whole picture changes, and you have to start over.”
It is too simplistic to label such complex, nuanced topics as a matter of 100% right or wrong when nothing feels 100% about any of this.
It's not 100% safe to go to a doctor's office or a store or a restaurant or ride in a commercial airplane or, yes, sit in a classroom or walk crowded halls between periods at a high school.
So I'm not going to tell you that it's 100% safe to play high school football. It's not. It's a risk that could ultimately worsen the spread of the disease and threaten lives. If this season were to be canceled, I'd understand why. I probably wouldn't let my child play.
But at the same time, should I be able to tell someone else they can't opt to let their child play football? Or soccer. Or be a cheerleader. Or play in the band. Or be in the drama club or on the yearbook staff. Or anything else that's an extracurricular activity – meaning it's not mandatory.
That is an important distinction. For one, it makes high school football very different from pro or college. NFL players basically have to play. It's their job. Scholarships mean college football players are compensated for playing and basically have to play, too.
But you don't have to play high school football if you don't want to play.
Along those same lines, a question: How could you allow a very personal, inyour-space sport like football if classes are only safe virtually?
Well, children have to go to school. It's the law. You don't have to play high school football.
“That risk assessment versus the cost of what they're losing, everybody has to make that decision,” Potter said Thursday. “That's going to be different for different people. What I would say is those people who believe that the costs (of not playing) are too high and want to do things in a careful way and get their kids out there ought to have the ability to do that.”
You might agree. You might not.
But either way, it doesn't cost anything to consider another viewpoint. This should not be a cut-and-dried, simple decision, even if you want it to be.
Reach Gentry Estes at gestes@tennessean.com and on Twitter @Gentry_estes.