It feels like the past seven and a half months have been a fog of depression from death, the coronavirus, municipal and national elections, “peaceful protests,” overpaid professional athletes and sports radio constantly sprinkling stats and recaps with political proselytizing and posturing. Eventually the noise becomes too much to tune out.
“In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet … for just a moment … blue skies..”
That song break courtesy of “Hamilton” seems perfect given the fact we are about to be dancing the hurricane tango as two are set to make landfall in the gulf and then apparently windy, passionate and squishy summer love before going their separate ways like a tawdry Mother Natural affair that starts at the beach and ends in a barbecue restaurant in backwoods north Mississippi where someone leaves wearing a large hot sauce as a hat.
You’re picturing that now, aren’t you?
In the eye of a hurricane I found my quiet Thursday.
Blue skies and normalcy; I was home.
The stadium was abuzz with life as excitement and energy filled both sides of the Hot anticipating the kickoff.
I stood there and took it all in: The sights, the sounds, the smells, Dr. Herring’s laughter and strategizing, the first two adventurous extra point attempts by Reeltown’s kicker.
Sports have always been my sanctuary, and with everything going on in the world there is no greater need for that sanctuary than now. I love the fact I can stand on the sidelines and be faceless in a sea of faces and just be present.
I like them even more now that I’m not working full time for the newspaper and having to worry about taking pictures, tweeting, Instagramming, Facebooking, engaging — and writing and designing pages all under a deadline.
The beauty of my role now is to write which brings my career full circle.
When I started, all I had to do was write. It was fun. I had the opportunity to tell the story. Now, that’s all I have to worry about and it makes things more enjoyable and you have moments to breathe and take in the surroundings.
Football season this year, though, is going to be different for everyone: the writers, the fans, the kids and the coaches.
Jumanji 2020 brings with it a bunch of uncertainty and coaches who are trying to gameplan from week to week are trying to figure out how to work through this. I covered the Horseshoe Bend game on Friday and their coach said it best, and this is me paraphrasing: “We are going to play week to week and hope to be 1-0 at the end of the week.”
Now, I’m not delusional to think this will last. As people gather and the season goes on, the social distancing practices will be forgotten as seen in the first weekend. Friends are going to sit together and not be 6 feet apart. I know there is going to be another outbreak and the football season may not last beyond the end of September.
But until that happens and the other side of the hurricane blows over to wash everything away, I’m going to enjoy my Friday nights under the lights, inside my sanctuary where collisions, whistles and offkey music fill the air.
Football season has started. Normalcy is seemingly returning to us. It’s an election year. It won’t last.
It’s that simple.
