COVID plus one

 

Stamford, CT, 3/12/20, 6 p.m.

It could have been March 5 because the next day just felt different and it would be months before I felt like that again.

It could have been March 7 because I called a hockey game at Brunswick and Jude Brower -- Mahopacian father of the Wick player with the same name -- offered me an elbow versus a handshake. It caught me off guard.

It could have been March 9 when I called two basketball games at Trumbull High School under a bit of what felt like a cloud. Yet people were still shaking my hand.

No, it was March 10. Definitely. March 10, 2021.

A day later, the world would know the name Rudy Gobert. Then Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson would be heard from. And the dominoes kept falling.

Two days later, I called my last game for nearly four months. Not long before airtime, the Big East tournament came to a halt at halftime.

COVID-19 was stopping everything in its tracks.

Yet it's March 10 that I remember.

It was the day my mother was coming home. She had been in a nursing home for over a month. She was pleased to be leaving and, in reality, she was coming home to live out the rest of her life. I pulled into the nursing home around late morning.

I got to the door and the instructions were quite clear: you could be in the lobby but you couldn't go any further. In fact, that news was clear the night before, so it made my calling those basketball games at Trumbull much easier.

As I waited in the lobby, the news broke that Connecticut had, basically, closed up sports. The CIAC announced that winter sports were done. No further tournament action. No "Yale Whale." No "Run to the Sun." There was no "we'll revisit this decision." 

I was stunned and, I admit, I seethed. But I had to tend to Mom before I could focus on reacting.

I got her an egg sandwich. She loved those. Then I ran a few errands to help make her comfortable at home.

For some reason, I thought I did "Doubleheader" that day but it appears that I didn't. Maybe that was just as well. While stopping was the right thing, I will always feel let down by the heavy-handedness of the whole thing and that unwillingness to reevaluate. 

"Bob," a unique-looking stray in the neighborhood. 3/10/20

But, in the end, there was no need. It was just beginning and it was only going to get worse.

I went to Grand Prix NY the next day for "The Clubhouse." I arrived extra early to do "Doubleheader" from there, meaning there would be a few hours to hang out between shows. I know I eviscerated the CIAC and a few others for their decision-making.

The shame of it was that I had an offer to do high school basketball in an empty gym that same night. I remember thinking I'd be up for that challenge. Little did I know I'd get my chance eventually, but it would take until 2021.

But instead, there I was in Mount Kisco where, later on, we did "The Clubhouse" for our first show of the season. It was pretty standard fare before Dave Torromeo, Mark Jeffers, Bob Small, Jarrett Torromeo and I sat down to dinner. 

And then? All hell broke loose. The Rudy Gobert news was announced. Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson followed. It had a feeling of "what's next?" to it.

NBA games were getting canceled. Rumors began to fly.

And yet? We all shook hands almost defiantly as we said goodnight.

On Thursday, March 12, I drove to Stamford to call Brunswick's season-opening lacrosse game against Episcopal Academy. The team took a bus to Pennsylvania for the game but Joe Early suggested that I could call the game from the Local Live studio if I was comfortable doing so.

Me? A game? Sure!

But it was really eerie.

Just driving to Stamford that day, I turned the radio dial and listened as sports yakkers tried to figure out what to talk about. There was speculation (among many) that sports talk could be in deep trouble (so foolish). 

The Big East soon ended their tournament, leaving the limited attendance at Madison Square Garden confused at best as St. John's led Creighton 38-35 at halftime.

In Stamford, I prepped for lacrosse and stayed steady. Joe Early, always looking out for me as well as making sure we stay -- my words, not his -- on brand, implored me to stay away from talking too much about coronavirus.

Some of my fellow broadcasters complain about monitor size.
No complaints from me, but try this sometime.

Essentially, stick to the game, which I did. He texted me notes, such as the cancellation of an upcoming game, which I dutifully reported.

In a somewhat rough-sounding voice, a remnant of a recent nasty cold (no, I never found out if it was COVID or not), I noted that Brunswick beat Episcopal 16-10.

With that, it was time to wrap up the broadcast.

"To reiterate, in case you're joining us late, that game at Deerfield on March 28th is canceled," I said. "Obviously, keep your eye on social media or wherever you get your Bruins information...So the next game, as of right now...is the home opener -- April 1st, 3:30, against Kent.

"I intend to be there. I hope you join me..."

For the record, I haven't been back to Cosby Field since late 2019. I've driven by it (such as tonight) but I haven't been in the booth to call a game.

I finished the broadcast and stepped outside. That's when it hit me. Stamford, CT was a ghost town at 6 p.m. on a Thursday night.

The drive home was every bit as quiet as it was on 9/11/2001.

It would be weeks before I was back in Connecticut, only occasionally coming over to have socially distant pizza in parking lots with my sister so she could see my mother.

I wouldn't call another game until faux-American Legion baseball in July.

"Doubleheader" became a show that focuses on the community to give people something to be entertained by. I've done maybe 10 shows from the studio in the past year. I've done everything else from home.

We had a false sense of security that things were getting better in the summer. Then we relapsed. Now we're looking better again.

COVID has impacted my family just as I'm sure it has done the same to you. We're overall very fortunate in that the impact hasn't been fatal but it certainly has done mental damage that I hope can be recovered from.

Like you, I'm so ready to move on, but we're not there yet.

"What's past is prologue," Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest. Whatever the case, the past is a reminder of how naive we might have been and prescient we were.

That was then and it was only just beginning.