Should California still play host for Rose Bowl and Super Bowl?

When is California going to stop playing COVID games?

Your columnist devoutly follows the guidance of public health officials. I wear two masks around town, even after having had all three vaccine shots.

Yet I’m struggling to take California’s latest public health directives seriously — especially the reminder to keep gatherings small. That’s because it’s not clear that state and local officials are serious about what they’re saying.

I see their lack of seriousness in my hometown of Pasadena.

As the state announced a new mask mandate and updated COVID-safety recommendations, tickets went on sale for the Jan. 1 Rose Bowl between the University of Utah and the Ohio State University. Already, Utahans, whose university has never before qualified for this game, are descending upon us. So, 90,000 fans who have traveled from two states with even lower vaccination rates than California’s will cram into a stadium during a winter surge.

“Our collective actions can save lives this holiday season,” says state Public Health Officer Tomás J. Aragón’s statement reinstating the indoor mask mandate. If officials truly want to save lives, wouldn’t they cancel this exhibition football game? Or, at least, reduce the number of people allowed to attend?

Or to put my question more directly, to Gov. Gavin Newsom, who recently extended his own emergency powers through March: Why should anyone take seriously your emergency declarations while you allow major events in California to go on before packed crowds?

I’m not advocating for a return to the lockdowns that destroyed businesses and crippled schools. We must keep the institutions of California open. But the Rose Bowl, while bringing money to the tourist industry and universities, is not essential. And if it were to become a superspreader event or contribute rising post-holiday case numbers, it might even jeopardize our returns to schools and workplaces after the holidays.

If holding the Rose Bowl appears irresponsible, then what about the Super Bowl, scheduled for Feb. 13 in Inglewood? Yes, that middle-class city and its businesses have invested heavily in making SoFi Stadium a world-beating venue for megaevents, and this game is an early test. But if this emergency continues into the first several weeks of the new year, the Super

Bowl should be called off, postponed — or at least held without a supersized crowd.

What’s the big deal about big games? These high-profile events make a mockery of public health directives. Watching crowds gather fuels cynicism, conspiracy theories and dangerous social divides. Why do the rich and powerful get to keep having their parties and bowl games, while your office or church feels pressure to call theirs off?

These evasions, and mixed messages, add to the widespread, desperate feeling that we’re living in a pandemic purgatory where no one is in charge. You might say it’s like a college football game in which our team is getting annihilated (800,000 American deaths) and the clock keeps ticking.

In recent weeks, my faith in public health has been shaken. I’m thinking of calling a friend who has Rose Bowl tickets so I can go to the game, and, in solidarity with my fellow Americans, roll the dice on whether I catch COVID-19. My public health officials don’t seem to mind.

Because if they weren’t playing games with COVID, they’d call off the games, right?