This column originally ran on Sept. 19, 2001.
In the aftermath of last week’s incomprehensible tragedy, all sports, with the exception of high school athletics, came to an abrupt halt as the country’s priorities were put into definitive perspective.
As those who lost friends and loved ones mourned, professional athletes across America questioned the authenticity of their jobs. Playing a game simply for the benefit of a win, a World Series, a Super Bowl, a national championship, a Stanley Cup, a heavyweight championship or a Grand Slam must have seemed completely insignificant.
The catastrophe forced fans to reconsider heroes and role models. Triumphs on a playing field became inconsequential, shadowed by the few triumphs being pulled from the rubble in New York.
Ultimately, reality settled in on sports fans. We were reminded what exactly is important in life, and it wasn’t home runs, touchdowns or last-second shots. It wasn’t the return of Michael Jordan to basketball. It wasn’t Tiger Woods, Dale Earnhardt Jr., Sammy Sosa, Randy Moss or Kurt Kittner. It wasn’t a person playing a game. It wasn’t anything that had to do with a game.
We were reminded that life is precious and all else trivial. We were reminded that games didn’t reflect the real world. Winning and losing meant nothing. The agony of defeat and the joy of winning a game had no real substance anymore. It was all irrelevant, just silly absurdity.
We didn’t look for a moral in sports. We bypassed the sports section in newspapers, holding back tears as we read of the destruction and the mayhem caused by ruthless barbarians.
Even if sports had continued, not a fan in the United States would have checked a box score without questioning its relevance. We were too distraught, too stunned. Batting averages, quarterback ratings and home run totals had no meaning to us anymore.
We look at sports now as a fortunate distraction to reality, a temporary diversion. Our lives have been changed. With resolve, we need to continue on. But make no mistake, sports or any form of entertainment will never again take the place of real life. It’s all simply secondary to everything.
In pint-sized stadiums up and down the state of Illinois, high school sports were full-go in the wake of the disaster. The decision to proceed was appropriate, for it symbolized the perseverance and the determination of the young. High school students needed to congregate where cheers of joy could replace tears of sorrow. Spirit in the hearts of our young needed rescuing, and what better a remedy than sports.
Moments of silence in recognition of the victims and their families preceded most of the games, and heavy hearts fluttered during the playing of the national anthem.
When players took to the field and the band burst with exuberance, something important in our country was pieced back together. Families were united, smiling, cheering, happy again. The sadness hadn’t worn off, nor will it ever. It was simply a time to pay our respects in the most gracious way possible, getting on with life but never forgetting.
And although life will never be the same, the pain and the anguish will soon ease little by little with the help of a few pleasant distractions.
Still, we’ll never forget.