Seasons Lost

Conversation is on again about activating pro sports seasons.

The newscasters were punctuating the excitement of the Rockies hitting the field, the Broncos prepping for the fall season and the list of other teams that are expected to follow suit.

Oh, by the way. These games are to be played without fans. The Mud Hens of Nowhere Special will face off against the Blaze... in an empty stadium.

I have to say when the news first broke I got excited. I was mentally preparing for a day trip to a Rockies game, hopefully pick up our favorite fan on the way and relive times past. Then, I heard the rest of the announcement and felt myself assigned to a comfy chair in my own living room instead of sharing the scene with 50,000 of my closest friends.

Our first time attending a Rockies game was about 12 years ago. Then I was working for a company that periodically passed on the benefit of corporate ownership, including MLB tickets. The night was summer cool, but not cold. It was the kind of night a long-sleeved shirt or hoodie was appropriate. The iced beverage tasted as good as a hot chocolate or coffee would. These were admittedly the cheap seats; third level and almost needed opera glasses to see past home plate, but we were still close enough to watch a broken bat nearly land at our feet.

The event was bigger than the million dollar players. It was bigger than a two hour drive to see adults run the bases like children. It was about walking the four blocks from a parking garage to the stadium. It was about buying the over-priced t-shirts, burgers and drinks to share an experience with people we likely will never see again. But for those few hours, there is a quiet bond. Almost without exception, opposing fans could sit near each other and share the same experience, unless, for example one consumed too many adult beverages.

Any of us could spend the afternoon home with our own recipes for grilled brauts, hot wings or whatever you call fan food. Hopefully we will in time return to having block parties watching our favorite college, MLB or NFL teams. That can be done at our own grill and big screen TV, or a local sports fan club. What can’t be done is the smells, the scenes, the people you randomly meet because you are out sharing the same fan experience.

It is on my list to see a Bronco game this fall, and a concert of performers I have never seen on stage. We’ll see what the social regulations allow in Colorado by then.

Last fall I saw my first Wyoming football game. It was also the first college game I had experienced for many years. It didn’t matter that I didn’t go to school in Wyoming. As it turned out, the buddy I met there is an alum of the school. What matters is the experience. What matters is who we are sharing the experience with, and where. In that respect, it is the same for community sports. We could get the fifth-quarter review in a coffee shop, or watch it from the stands with a bag of popcorn in one hand and a carbonated beverage in the other. It is called being social. It is called enjoying the community of fandom, something that is on a different level than sitting at home in your comfy pants and enduring numerous commercial interruptions.

Candidly, in my opinion, the sports seasons are not truly open until the policymakers allow fans into the stadiums. Until then, the games are just televised practices.