The Morning Journal (Lorain, OH)
At least prep winter sports have closure
At this point, it was the development we all knew was coming.
Around 1 p.m. March 26, the Ohio High School Athletic Association sent a news release, after communicating with its member schools, to announce the seemingly inevitable in a straightforward manner:
There will not be a completion of the winter sports postseason due to the novel coronavirus outbreak.
They say there are five stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
The denial phase of a pandemic, for the first time in our lifetimes having such a profound effect on daily life, sports included, passed long ago.
Anger? Sure that’s been the case, as well it should have been.
Winter student-athletes whose teams were still in basketball or hockey tournaments or who qualified for state in wrestling should be upset.
They were robbed of stepping onto the biggest stages of their craft.
They were robbed of the roar of their adoring faithful and the invaluable lessons of perseverance, triumph and adversity through competition.
They were robbed of what should have been a memory that would last a lifetime, one they could one day impart on a younger generation captivated and inspired by that journey.
It’s not fair.
But unfortunately, it’s our new normal.
It’s very important in a time of crisis such as this to ration exposure to bleak news. We are undoubtedly in a rough period in the world, and our collective sympathy extends to anyone and everyone who has been affected by this pandemic. We are inspired by those on the front lines in health care and everyday heroes assisting in getting society to the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
As the numbers and the severity of this crisis increases, though, in a high school sports sense it became time for the bargaining phase.
A BBC journalist, writing about the suspension of British soccer for the foreseeable future, put it well, paraphrasing: “Sports don’t matter, but yet they do.”
Sports play a crucial role in society.
They are a diversion. They are a uniting component of communities as they are represented far beyond their borders.
Athletic exploits cause young people to aspire and some day try to reach those places as well.
But we also have to accept sports are not a be all and end all.
There is something much more serious transpiring in our world at the moment, for an openended period of time that even the foremost public health experts aren’t sure how long it will last.
If you want to phrase it with an athletic metaphor, if sports are on one side and everyday life is on the other, everyday life wins here in a rout.
Then we get into depression.
We have all heard the stories of the tears shed and expressions of sadness from student-athletes in Ohio, in our own backyard and elsewhere.
They should be and will continue to be sad, because it just doesn’t seem real.
I can only imagine how especially tough it was, given the window of when actions began to occur earlier this month, for teams and student-athletes who were already in Columbus for state competition.
They had to sit in a hotel room or lobby, locker room or arena — a place of unfamiliarity — and try to process this.
This news would be difficult to analyze no matter where it was, but especially so on the road.
And through the fault of no one amid social distancing measures, it also had to be difficult to see the news of indefinite suspension and, now, cancellation, in an email or group text.
Those words on a screen — necessary as they were — must have felt 10 times larger than they actually were, because of the pain they caused and joy they stole. They were a cruel reminder of the end, chiseled in granite and never going away.
There are conversations between coaches and their teams, parents and the student-athletes in their household and more, that have gone on while this has reached this juncture.
And hopefully, those talks and, then, the reality of cancellation March 26, led closer to the final phase of grief — acceptance.
You have heard the coaches and the athletes say publicly for as long as this has played out. They knew.
No, it wasn’t easy. No, it wasn’t ideal.
But they knew.
And they understood. The window for conducting the remainder of the basketball, hockey and wrestling seasons simply was no longer feasible.
A glimmer of hope is fine, but it also reaches a point of no return where people can’t be fed false hope.
The Ohio High School Athletic Association, under Jerry Snodgrass’ leadership, has navigated this process with the proper balance of understanding, prudence and patience.
It was not unreasonable to allow the process to advance, wherever it led, and then make decisions when necessary.
If nothing else, it bought time to come to grips with this.
This is, without question, one of the saddest days Ohio high school sports has ever known. Not since World War II has a postseason been so irreparably affected.
We will continue in the days ahead to hold out hope — and yes, admittedly it is the faintest of hope — that spring high school sports may still have a path forward.
When it does or it doesn’t, we will comprehend that fate together.
In this moment, though, it is a time to reflect on every school and student-athlete with unfinished business in the winter.
So to the 32 boys basketball, 16 girls basketball and four hockey teams and the 672 wrestlers who will never know where their postseason journey would have taken them, we stand with you.
We offer you our compassion.
Your quest for a state championship has concluded through no fault of your own.
The annals of history for many winter sports at the state level will leave this year blank — and that is truly a shame.
But it doesn’t make your contribution any less valuable or impactful.
We all pretty much knew this moment was coming for winter sports.
But do not hesitate to forget, if you have been affected by its conclusion: Sports came to a crossroads with life, and life won out.
You will be remembered for your resilience, and you will have a message that will carry through time.