Sports can be a distraction from real life. They offer a reprieve from the pressures of the daily grind. For two or three hours we can enjoy the thrills and beauty of supremely gifted athletes competing at a level unlike any other. We ride the waves of adrenaline and nervously chew our nails to the nubs with suspense. We roar or moan with every success or failure. Then we exit the stadium or turn off the TV and reenter real life slightly out of breath but hopefully refreshed.
Sometimes this grand interruption to life is itself interrupted by real life, or rather by a threat to life. Instead of escape we are drawn into someone else’s story, a story that can be scary:
We all know people like this, those who share the same agonizing experience of cancer. My grandfather died of liver cancer when I was 9. My father had successful surgery for prostate cancer a few years ago. My wife had childhood leukemia, went through hellacious treatments, and was declared cured at age 18. My church lost its pastor several months ago to melanoma.
. . .
When the diagnosis “cancer” is uttered, a cloud rolls in. It casts a pall and threatens life. Cancer confronts us with mortality. It is terrifying and interrupts everything. That’s why it’s so disorienting when it interrupts our favorite distraction.
We look to sports to escape and enjoy ourselves. We go there for fun. But how can we enjoy our favorite pastime when it too is under a cloud?
We could ignore the pain, pretend like it doesn’t exist, and just get on with the game. Or we could make the human connection and realize that sports exhibit realities of life that we might otherwise miss. Maybe instead of reverie we need a touch of reality, instead of ecstasy we need empathy.
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