PART 1: (boredom)

For God knows what reason, Huey Lewis & The News named one of their albums SPORTS.

Sure it was popular, but what the hell were they thinking?

Did they think it offered some sort of double meaning?

“Hey, we’re just some good old sports who like sports!”

Maybe Huey Lewis & The News had an ill-advised advisor who thought the title would attract your average hard-working sports fan.

Either way, you’d think the album would have at least one song about sports, right? There’s a song about Vietnam, a song about wanting a new drug, and some others that don’t deserve another syllable from me. Not one damn song about sports!

It might be the worst album title of all-time (with Lionel Richie’s DANCING ON THE CEILING a very close second).

Enough with Huey and who the hell cares about The News because it’s time to celebrate! Somehow, we made it through the last 4.5 months without the luxury of our favorite sports, and, as we stand now, we’re on the precipice of what could be the greatest stretch of live sports in all of human history. (More on that later.)

Let’s start the sports talk by discussing some alternate realities, something most sports fans are used to anyway. Sports and the relentless analysis of its past/future/present is the ultimate distraction because there is literally no end to their multi-layered dimensions. Somehow, sports talk radio/TV has survived without months and months of fresh sports because of dissociative episodes such as exhaustive Mt. Rushmore discussions, Top 5/Bottom 5 Twitter polls, endless ‘what if’ scenarios, future projections, past speculations, crybaby laments, and, of course, the perpetual wishful thinking for brighter days ahead.

Obviously, had the space-time continuum not been forever altered by COVID-19, this essay and our current reality doesn’t exist.

SIDE NOTE: Let me be clear. In no way, shape or form am I trying to minimize the devastating effects of COVID-19. It’s most definitely for real, and no matter your politics, it has undoubtedly fucked things up: My father miraculously escaped a nursing home without contracting it, a friend in my oldest fantasy football league tested positive without symptoms, and several of my colleagues lost loved ones due to the virus. It’s the overwhelming frontrunner for story of the century, skewing and screwing with the daily fabric of everyone’s life in one way or another. This past April, I ended up playing the WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER drinking game while watching TV one night, and I passed-out before the 10 o’clock news ended. Didn’t even get through the weather.

Unmistakably, the degree to which this new virus has affected each and every one of us is not my focus here. Please don’t pretend to think this essay is about something that it’s not. I’m talking about Wisconsin sports here, and I won’t apologize for any of it!

Let’s narrow our focus even more to examine the woulda’s and coulda’s of what was supposed to be the current Wisconsin sports landscape. Here’s what I believe things would’ve looked like had Patient Zero kept the novel coronavirus to him or herself back in 2019.

My unaltered Wisconsin sports reality begins from a mid-July perch in the heart of Major League Baseball’s marathon regular season. The All-Star Game would’ve taken place about a week ago, and most of us would have already forgotten who won.

Well past the statistical half-way point of the season, the fourth place Brewers would only be 3.5 games behind the first place Reds and finishing up a six-game west coast swing with an important series against the league leading Dodgers.

For me, there’s definitely something special about mid-summer west coast Brewers baseball. During the dog days of July, I don’t have to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn to teach a roomful of fifth graders, and I’m blessed to be able to stay up well past midnight to watch Josh Hader strike out the side while Craig Counsell’s face nervously wonders how he’s going to manage tomorrow’s game without Josh Hader because he already used him yesterday. (By the way, I am a huge proponent of dedicating an entire cable channel to simulcasting live shots of Craig Counsell’s face during Brewer games. I think it would be a huge hit!)

The allure of Brewers west coast baseball can also be credited to their A+ local TV broadcasting team: Brian Anderson is a genuine treasure and truly one of the very best play-by-play talents in all of baseball. Trust me, Brewer fans are grateful to share him with the national stage, especially when we’re honored with the presence of Badgers icon Matt Lepay as BA’s fill-in. Lepay developed his baseball sea legs before our very eyes and ears, proving he’s a natural no matter the sport, and a verified Wisconsin broadcasting legend.

“Touchdown, Wisconsin!”

Their partner, Bill ‘Rock’ Schroeder, is the perfect compliment: He combines the intimate knowledge of an ex-MLB-catcher with the folksy grump of a lifelong Brewer, a beloved homer who is sick and tired of ending every season as the perpetual bridesmaid. He’s with us every night, and he hates Brewer losses as much as we do.

Finally, west coast games usually don’t end until after midnight central time. This is great, because when the Brewers blow a mid-game lead, I don’t have to suffer through the rest of my night with the agony of defeat killing my buzz.

Why didn’t Counsell keep in his starting ‘out getter’ just a little longer?

If only Keston Hiura didn’t botch that routine double play ball!

Will Arcia ever record another base on balls?

If the Brewers lose at twelve-thirty in the morning, I go to sleep at a somewhat reasonable hour. Great.

If they happen to win, I stay up until three and keep drinking!

Win win.

Let’s switch to the Bucks now. Had COVID-19 not spread to every continent sans Antarctica, Wisconsin sports fans might still be wondering why Coach Bud (and Giannis?) insisted on playing out the Bucks’ brutal March/April schedule at full tilt.

Giannis injured his left knee against the Lakers just before everything went haywire. Would the Bucks have rushed him back to play against Boston and Miami a week after the injury? Would Giannis have insisted on coming back early because he’s a ruthless competitor and one of the NBA’s ultimate warriors? We also have to factor in that, with his supermax extension right around the corner, there’s very little chance Coach Bud and the Bucks say no to Giannis if he insisted on playing.

The Bucks were unquestionably the best team in the NBA up until the shutdown. Would they have popped champagne with the Larry O’Brien in their midst had COVID-19 not spread?

Obviously, no one knows for sure. Last June, I wrote extensively (https://bellykingbelly.com/2020/07/23/60-wins-summit-fever-altitude-sickness/) lamenting the Bucks’ precipitous fall from their 2-0 lead against Toronto. I argued that they suffered from a fatal bout of altitude sickness due to the brutal every-other-night schedule dictated to teams in the Eastern Conference Finals. No doubt, the way Giannis gives 110% on both ends, he wears down over the course of the NBA’s ridiculously long regular season/playoffs. Last year, if December Giannis graded out at 99, late-May Giannis graded out at a 90. Some would even argue he slipped to an 81 during those last few games against Toronto.

Heading into March this year, I had a sinking feeling that, with the summit in plain view, the same bout of altitude sickness would strike again at a similar spot on the mountain, especially considering their likely ECF opponent had an A+ coach in Brad Stevens, an extremely valuable glue piece in Marcus Smart, a certified fourth quarter closer in Kemba Walker, and an ascending future MVP candidate in Jayson Tatum.

On the other hand, there’s a huge part of every Wisconsin sports fan (including myself) that believes the Bucks would’ve won the whole fucking thing. There was a beautiful day in mid-June blessed with picture perfect weather that screamed ‘parade day’. I can see and hear it now: Giannis Antetokounmpo, man of the people, holding up the Larry O’Brien, telling all of Wisconsin that he’s not going anywhere and there will be more championships to come.

None of what I just described happened. COVID-19 took over 2020, and it continues to rear its ugly head.

PART 2: (dreadful thoughts and wishful thinking)

So here we are. Late July, 2020. The space-time continuum is what it is, and we’re hoping everything doesn’t turn into a Biff’s Pleasure Paradise sort of world à la Back to the Future II. All of the woulda, coulda, and shoulda’s of the past 4.5 months have turned into the great promise yet uncertainty of the next 3+ months. Nobody, not even the 14th Dalai Lama himself, has any idea whether or not we are about to embark on the greatest stretch of live sports in the history of live sports, or if the pandemic will erase every dream for every diehard sports fan across the nation.

Let’s broaden our scope for a second.

What’s your prediction right now?

Will all four major North American sports leagues finish their respective seasons and crown champions?

I know. Tough question.

I believe the NFL is the least likely to finish their season with a legit champion. For starters, the NFL calendar stretches all the way into February, the height of the flu season. While Pizza Hut and Dominos pride themselves on contactless delivery these days, the NFL makes its billions as an unabashed contact sport. Shit, will they even make it past Thanksgiving? I remember the Packers endured a pretty intense flu outbreak before their NFC divisional round playoff game against Seattle last January.

Does anyone think, in our current state of affairs, they’d even take the field with a similar outbreak of COVID?

I’m a bit more hopeful the other major sports will crown champions, but I was also hopeful gyms in Wisconsin would open up by Easter Sunday.

I wasn’t even close with that one.

I was hopeful I’d be able to stand in front of my fifth graders for at least a few weeks to finish the school year.

Nope.

I was hopeful I’d be able to attend my nephew’s birthday party in June.

Sorry.

I thought for sure I’d be standing in front of my new batch of fifth graders on the first day of school this September.

Wrong again.

Every single one of my pandemic hopes and predictions thus far have turned out totally wrong. I stopped making predictions after the gyms didn’t open, and my hope for any legitimate, lasting joy derived from the sports world feels uneasy at best at this juncture.

Do I hope the Brewers start off strong and beat the Cubs on Opening Day?

Sure.

But what difference will it make when one-third of the New York Yankees test positive for COVID on Labor Day?

I can see the headline now: MLB shuts down out of ‘an abundance of caution’.

Do I hope a healthy and well-rested Bucks ascend to their rightful spot on top of the NBA world in October?

Absolutely, but when Giannis and Khris Middleton both test positive for COVID the night before Game 7 of the NBA Finals without any symptoms, and the title goes to LeBron and the Lakers, my already fragile Wisconsin sports heart will shatter and may never fully heal.

And what happens when COVID spreads through a large chunk of the Packers locker room before the NFC title game this January?

Does anyone honestly think the NFL cancels the season right then and there, or will Drew Brees and the Saints automatically graduate to the Super Bowl to face Lamar Jackson so everyone can fulfill their corporate obligations?

Nobody knows. Not even Jesus Christ himself knows.

“You tryin’ to say Jesus Christ can’t hit a curveball?”

Maybe my war-torn Wisconsin sports heart has reached peak battle fatigue. Maybe all Wisconsin sports fans are cursed with a lifetime of eternal pessimism because the Packers held and subsequently barfed up their 99% fourth quarter win percentage against Seattle in the 2014 season’s NFC Title game.

But, wait. With sports there’s always wishful thinking. Let’s flip the script and go big. What if this year is different because it’s already so goddamned different?

Maybe the novel coronavirus doesn’t penetrate the sports world with a fatal tumor. The English Premier League crowned a champion this year; that was a pretty big deal. I’ve watched several boxing and MMA fights in the past couple of months and they haven’t shut down yet. Shit, the KBO is still playing. And what about good old Travis Diener nailing a walk-off three for Marquette’s TBT championship?

That felt good as fuck, even without fans in the stands!

Maybe there is hope!

Maybe every league stays open for business and Wisconsin sports fans are saddled with first world problems like flipping between a Bucks playoff game and a Sunday night Packers game vs. the Saints. Can you imagine waking from an eight-month coma September 27 with this dilemma on your hands? You might stroke back out right then and there, or faint like Marty’s girlfriend when she runs into her future self in Back to the Future II.

At the very same time (circa late September), maybe the Brewers are fighting the Cardinals and Cubs for a playoff spot.

Heading into the year, the Brewers’ starting pitching was a clear weakness, and their ‘answers’ were all unproven. Now, with expanded rosters on top of built in depth (not to mention the DH rule, a 60 game sprint, and expanded playoffs), the Brewers could legitimately compete for a postseason birth.

Ask the 2019 Nationals. Once you’re invited to the dance, anything can happen . . . .

Like a Brewers World Series title, on top of a likely Bucks title, along with a pissed-off-as-all-fuck, single-as-all-fuck Aaron Rodgers going Michael Jordan on everyone’s asses.

Wisconsin sports 2020-2021.

Why not us? Why not now?

Could this be our finest moment?

Will Wisconsin sports erase our demons and achieve ultimate redemption?

Can we finally summit Everest?

Or will acute altitude sickness knock us back down the mountain?

Or will we fail to make it out of base camp?

Will we even make it to base camp in the first place?

Will COVID-19 regulate us back to mindless endeavors like spending 15 minutes searching for a new podcast while delaying yard work on what should be a glorious football Sunday?

Will we be forced back into inane hobbies like writing overly wordy sports blogs nobody reads anyway?

Shit.

No one knows.

Not even God knows.

THE END

Written by Joe Kovochich (07/23/2020)