“You’re depressed, probably in shock,” my friend said. “It’s not hard to figure out the reason.”
As we played tennis Saturday, I told him I’d stayed awake nearly all of Wednesday night. That I’d gotten up at sunrise Friday morning with the intent of going to my health club for a vigorous workout. Instead, I fell asleep on the couch, only to be awakened by a knock at the door. By that time, it was after 10 a.m.
I just don’t do that.
But I did last week.
We’ve reacted to the nation’s most stunning tragedy Tuesday in our own ways. The terrorist attacks in New York City and Washington D.C., left a world numb one moment, tearful the next, furious the next.
They flew our own damned planes into our buildings.
Raise your hand if you’ve recovered from that one.
Anybody?
Didn’t think so.
And so you’ll have to excuse the sports world if it was confused as to just how to proceed.
It is a time when completely rational people can disagree and still be right.
Those who urged sport to resume last weekend are correct.
So are those who wanted it to take time off.
No wrong answers here. And no right ones. Who’s smart enough to know when we’ve mourned enough, when it’s OK to get on with our lives?
We all process information differently. And in the past week, what an onslaught of info we’ve had.
Sport is no different.
The Pacific-10 Conference was among the first to shut down its events last weekend. The NFL waited for days, then decided to postpone. The Southeastern Conference first decided to play its games, then reversed field and postponed everything. So did Winston Cup.
More than a few wrongly ripped the SEC’s integrity. Characterized it as a collection of cigar-chomping, redneck, good ol’ boys who have the sensitivity of chicken-fried steak.
But who knows the right way to proceed? Who’s been through any of this before?
They flew our own damned planes into our buildings.
I know why our own Larry Henry wrote on these pages that the NFL should play. Larry is one of the finest people I know. One I count as a close friend. One I respect greatly.
When I read what Larry wrote in Thursday’s paper that the best thing for him was to stay busy, I was recovering from a night of staring at the ceiling, replaying mental images of destruction; of black smoke; of red flames; of collapsing buildings; of people staggering along a city’s streets, covered in dust, blood and tears.
Larry isn’t wrong. But I was no more ready to go to work than to walk barefoot across the Sahara. How could I write about Justin Robbins’ hamstring when these cowards killed thousands?
Oh, I tried to fool my boss. Told him I’d be glad to write. Spewed disappointment when he said the news section needed some extra space, that our sports section would sacrifice some pages and that I didn’t need to produce a single word of copy until today.
“I feel like I’m stealing,” I protested.
Yeah, sure.
They flew our own damned planes into our buildings.
Instead, I hugged my daughter. Spent some quality time with a woman I care deeply about. Talked to friends on the phone. Sent e-mails. Played tennis. Wrote some stuff for this week. Rode a horse. Went out to dinner. Drove. Ran. Lifted. Swam. Wept. Sat in a sauna. Sat in a whirlpool. Sat in the sun. Read.
Thought.
Cursed the bastards who did this.
Am I ready to go back to work?
No.
Yes.
To be honest, I really don’t know.
John Sleeper is The Herald’s college football writer.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
