What I’m already missing

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 01/04/2020 (2260 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

There’s no getting around it: COVID-19 has dramatically changed the way we live. And while it may seem like this has been going on forever — March was a hell of a year, wasn’t it? — we are still in the early days of adjusting to a new normal, unsure of what the world is going to look like when we emerge from this global pandemic.

In a nutshell, it sucks, but staying home is the least we can do right now, giving medical officials a fighting chance to flatten the curve. They are the true heroes, and the best way we can honour them is by following social-distancing orders to a tee.

In the meantime, sports have taken a necessary back seat. Fortunately, the stories, columns and features haven’t stopped flowing even though the leagues and games are on indefinite pause. Along with my talented colleagues here at the Free Press, we’re more committed than ever to giving you something to sink your teeth into, at a time when we know many appreciate the distraction.

That means getting creative, something that was apparent earlier this week when sports editor Steve Lyons led our first-ever staff meeting via Zoom to brainstorm various ideas. Rest assured, we’ll continue to pump out the copy, sprinkling in plenty of nostalgia and hopefully a lot of fun along the way.

And when the real world is in such a state that the sports world can resume operations, we’ll celebrate along with you and get back to the in-depth coverage you can count on.

Until then, there’s plenty of things I’m already missing. Consider this my love letter, of sorts, to sports.

• I miss the adrenaline rush that comes with a close game and a looming print deadline, with both the end result and the direction of my story still very much up in the air as the clock tick, tick, ticks down. It’s the journalistic equivalent of a roller-coaster ride, and it never gets old.

• I miss being in the press box, where the friendly ribbing, the banter, the jokes and the camaraderie among colleagues is often more entertaining than what’s playing out on the ice or field below us.

• I miss Paul Maurice’s daily gab sessions. Regardless of what you think about the job he’s done coaching the Winnipeg Jets — and I say some of his finest work has come this season — the man is a walking hockey encyclopedia who can spin a yarn like few others. We likely take him for granted here in Winnipeg, but I’m reminded of his value on every road trip I go on where out-of-town writers and broadcasters can’t stop raving about what we get to deal with.

• I miss coming home after covering a Jets game at Bell MTS Place and immediately turning on the television to watch more hockey. Those West Coast games were a perfect way to wind down while also keeping tabs on what was going on around the league. Oh, to have those kind of viewing choices these days.

• I miss the travel. No, it’s not nearly as glamorous as many think, as some mistakenly believe scribes travel on the team charter. I’ll likely never be a fan of the 3:45 a.m. wake-up calls to get to the airport to fly to the next city the morning after covering a game, nor the constant delays and inevitable missed connections, but I’ll be the first to admit how lucky I am to get to be your eyes and ears covering your favourite teams. It’s a responsibility I’ll never take for granted.

• I miss the roar of the crowd. There’s nothing like being in a venue with tens of thousands of people all cheering, or jeering, for a common cause. It’s intoxicating to hear the soundtrack of their emotions play out., and it’s especially missed right now, where the silence can be deafening.

• I miss not hearing from friends and colleagues about how their children did in their minor league playoffs. Having coached two kids of my own for more than a decade, I know the sacrifice it takes for young players, parents and volunteers. To have it all end abruptly like it did, without championship trophies and medals being awarded, is crushing. My heart especially breaks for those who were in their final year of play.

• I miss pouring through the statistics in various leagues, combing through boxscores and leaders in every category. It always brings me back to my childhood, when I started delivering the Free Press after school and would always come home, spread the sports section out on the living room floor and scan the agate section in great detail.

• I miss worrying about the state of my fantasy teams, including the trash talking among fellow competitors. They had a field day with me this year as my hockey team finished last in our league, but I’m certain my baseball team, which we went ahead and drafted last month, was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

• I miss getting excited in the early days of a new Toronto Blue Jays season, one filled with eternal optimism that this could be their year. With Vlad Jr. and Bo Bichette and Cavan Biggio and Lourdes Gurriel Jr. and a new ace in Hyun-Jin Ryu and a future ace in Nate Pearson, maybe this really could have been the year. We may never know.

• I miss going to the gym, as I have religiously three or four times a week for the past 26 years. Aside from the physical benefits, it’s good for the mind. I’ve replaced those regular workouts with daily hour-long walks, now at 14 consecutive days and counting, and they are helping a ton.

• I will miss going to Shaw Park, arriving early, the smell of fresh-cut grass in the air, the sound of batting practice, the prospect of standing on the diamond with Winnipeg Goldeyes manager Rick Forney and shooting the breeze about the state of his club, the state of the world, our families. I’ve been thinking about Rick a lot lately, after his oldest son, 22-year-old David, died suddenly in late February at his dorm at Navy.

• I will miss seeing how the Grey Cup champion Blue Bombers would have dealt with the increased pressure and targets on their backs through training camp and the start of what should have been a most-exciting new season. Maybe they can still get some kind of play in later this year. Maybe.

It’s OK to be sad, or angry, at what we’re losing out on, however trivial some of it may seem. Don’t feel guilty about that. Like everything, this too shall pass. And if we all do our part, life will eventually resume and we can get back to all the great things we love, and miss, about sports.

 

mike.mcintyre@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @mikemcintyrewpg