COLUMBUS, Ohio -- "Whoa ... this is weird."
Oh, he's got no idea. Just wait.
Wednesday afternoon at Nationwide Arena, Justin Schultz had just walked through the half-dozen or so reporters waiting in a designated interview area and assumed his designated standing spot behind a tall table. The reporters had been instructed to leave their microphones and recording devices on the table, then to stand back behind a black line of tape on the floor, roughly 6 feet away.
That's the distance recommended by the CDC to help avoid catching the novel coronavirus COVID-19 that, just an hour earlier, had been declared a pandemic.
And that above assessment by Schultz will, of course, be nothing compared to what's coming.
The Penguins and Blue Jackets will play here Thursday night at Nationwide Arena in front of no fans, the home team announced Wednesday evening. The only non-participants in the building, per the announcement, will be "home and visiting club personnel, credentialed media and broadcast partners, essential club and arena staff and NHL officials."
So, basically, it'll be me, Taylor Haase and maybe 50 others. Presumably no one to fire off the cannon, either.
Crazy, right?
I mean ... I can't even fathom the scene. And that's after watching the Penguins practice for an hour on that same rink in front of the same number of fans on this day. Because this'll be a game. A real, live NHL game event conducted in a near-vacuum. The first, to my knowledge, in our city's sporting history, and the first in any major league since this outbreak.
For sure, the magnitude hadn't hit the participants before, during or immediately after their 1 p.m. session. Schultz couldn't help but let out a smile as he spoke what's above. Zach Aston-Reese let out a slight cough from behind his table, then playfully glanced about the area as if to apologize. Same happened when Jack Johnson approached the area down the hallway and, upon spotting him, I backpedaled like a quarterback under duress. He laughed, too.
Look, it's serious. I get it.
Actually, it's deadly serious:
.@WHO is deeply concerned by the alarming levels of the #coronavirus spread, severity & inaction, & expects to see the number of cases, deaths & affected countries climb even higher. Therefore, we made the assessment that #COVID19 can be characterized as a pandemic. https://t.co/97XSmyigME pic.twitter.com/gSqFm947D8
— Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus (@DrTedros) March 11, 2020
I'm not that guy. I'm not Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreye, director-general of the World Health Organization, who declared a global pandemic Wednesday morning.
Nor am I Mike DeWine, governor of Ohio, who, later Wednesday, decreed that all major public gatherings, including sporting events, are done until further notice.
I don't have the educations they do in their different fields, and I don't have anywhere near the information they do.
But I still feel it's fair to wonder: What's the end game here?
Let's presume that Gov. DeWine was correct in telling reporters in this state capital, “We know it’s going to be bad. Question is: How bad is it going to be?”
Let's presume that Gov. DeWine wasn't acting out angrily because, a day earlier, the Blue Jackets themselves had publicly disregarded what they tellingly called his "recommendation" about closing games to fans and, in fact, told fans they're more than welcome at Nationwide Arena for the foreseeable future.
Let's presume that the Blue Jackets didn't wish to sicken their fans by pushing to the last minute to let them into games.
Let's also presume that the Penguins and government and health officials in Pittsburgh, Allegheny County and Pennsylvania know what they're doing in letting everyone know well in advance that PPG Paints Arena remains open for business:
The Penguins have been in regular contact with the NHL, the city, county, and health authorities and have determined that, based upon the facts before us, home games, including Sunday’s game against NYI, will go on as scheduled in front of fans.
Details: https://t.co/q1io4iptWk pic.twitter.com/idVZ6Ukmeq
— Pittsburgh Penguins (@penguins) March 11, 2020
You know, let's go all the way and presume everyone everywhere knows what they're doing. From China's forced quarantine of Wuhan, the city that gave birth to the virus, to other Asian countries cutting off all travel, to Italy ordering all non-emergency citizens to stay home through a program cleverly called 'I STAY HOME' ... let's presume these are the correct courses of action.
I'll ask it again: What will the all-clear look like?
Will it be when COVID-19 has a vaccine, which experts acknowledge will require a minimum of a year to create even if all red tape is shredded?
Will it be when COVID-19 has been eradicated from the Earth?
Or will it be just when we're comfortable enough dealing with it as some new normal in our lives?
No answers here. None at all.
But if I had to guess, it'll fall closest to that last scenario.
Ohio is home to 12 million people. As I type this, there are four known cases of COVID-19 in the state. The most recent, disclosed early Wednesday, befell a 53-year-old man who hadn't traveled recently, so his case was deemed to be what's called 'community spread.' That, Gov. DeWine said, was what triggered his action, because the virus is known to stay latent, even undetected, for as long as two weeks.
He might be right.
But for the record: In 2018, the flu, another virus, killed an estimated 80,000 people in the United States, according to the CDC. During the peak flu season, 4,000 Americans were dying from it each week. That's the last full flu season we've got on record. People have been debating which is more serious, the flu or COVID-19, and all I'll say to that is that 80,000 deaths is a lot of deaths.
What was the reaction of Gov. DeWine then?
Or, for that matter, the WHO?
It was nothing at all.
Same as with most of us, actually. I was getting my annual checkup a month ago, and my doctor urged me to get a flu shot. Not because of COVID-19, just because he feels strongly about it. I must've rejected him 10 times before a nurse came into the office to talk me into it. And I'm guessing it's more common to blow off these shots than not.
Is that the right approach?
Hell, no. Obviously, I was way wrong, and those in the white uniforms were way right.
But let's also recognize, I dare say, that there's middle ground to be had here. If we're going to freak out over COVID-19, justifiably or not, let's also freak out over the flu and other diseases, contagious or otherwise. In turn, if we're not going to pay any attention to the flu killing more Americans each year than one could squeeze into Heinz Field, then maybe we can turn down the volume a little with this new virus, as well.
Let's learn all we can. Without rumor. Without exaggeration.
Let's wash our freaking hands, as we should've been doing all along.
Let's live better.
But hey, let's also live.
