In a span of one week, the Coronavirus has gone from a bullpen joke between an emergency catcher and a third-string reliever in the 8th inning of a midweek game to… an Edgar Allen Poe poem coming true in real life.
Well, maybe not that far… but.. it sure feels like it with the way everyone is acting. Just about every college baseball game known to man is getting restricted to coaches, players and media only… Rudy Gobert is being chased around like he’s the Lorax looking thing with a sock on its back in Monster’s Inc.
We’ve reached peak pandemonium. This is a Arkansas missing a foul ball that would have won it a championship type of panic… Just on you know… a more global scale.
But to be quite honest with you, we know just as much about what’s going on as you probably do. Absolutely Nothing. Games will likely be canceled. The NCAA will suspend some team for the 2021 season because a player was caught selling toilet paper or hand sanitizer outside the campus dorm.
Will we have a season at all? Will there be Omaha for 8 deserving teams and traveling fans? I’ll tell you this much. If the games go on, show up at the gates. Watch from Plainsman Parking Deck down at Auburn. Climb a ladder to the roof of the Left Field Lounge at Dudy Noble. Spray beer in the right field of Swayze Field or up on Kudzu Hill.
We’re all going to die at some point anyways, so you might as well go out and watch some baseball…. right? And if your favorite team’s outfield doesn’t have an unofficial cheering ground, go create one. We aren’t the CDC, we aren’t the government and we sure as hell aren’t the best people to listen to on the Coronavirus. But… baseball is baseball. If you’re willing to risk catching this virus that has a lower death rate than Emerson Hancock’s 2019 ERA to watch baseball… you do you. We aren’t questioning it. We probably will too. Everything you do is at your own risk and comes with potential consequences. Yet driving to the ballpark and swerving into oncoming traffic as your team strands a runner at second is probably worse than the Coronavirus…
If you truly can’t get to watch your team in person.. and the tranquilizing darts hurt more than a fastball to the ribs from Cole Wilcox… then… there’s always Southern Slams. We’ll be here to write on the games… until the CDC shows up and pours coffee on our keyboards.
And before we go, let us just say that the Ivy League Board members who would throw our college applications in the trash like they did hardworking seniors’ seasons…. are…. also trash.
Pay a third assistant. Let the Ivy League players have one more year of eligibility. Let fans show up to the games in knockoff beekeeper suits to watch baseball while smuggling a flask of Jack Daniel’s or Crown Royal into the park.
Unfortunately, it seems everything is now canceled. It’s over. We are screwed.