An Anniversary Reflection
This week marks an anniversary for many people. I don’t expect to ever forget this date, at noon, in particular. You see, it’s March. And, every March I take an afternoon off for a special form of self-care. Its basketball season, of course. March Madness. The games are great and exciting. Every year I do my best to arrange my work schedule so that I can catch the afternoon games of the opening Thursday or Friday of the NCAA tournament or sometimes the Thursday afternoon games of the Big Ten tournament.
For me, college basketball always goes with cheap food. It’s a nostalgia thing. Wings at a bar or cheap pizza fit me best. And, it always brings me back to my days at college, enjoying great games and Cinderella upsets with friends in dorm rooms, sketchy apartments, and dive bars that maxed out the number of TVs on the wall.
Thursday, March 12, 2020. Michigan hadn’t had a great year. They were scuffling to qualify for the NCAA tournament and were set to play Rutgers at noon. It was an important game for Michigan. Lose and their season might be done. About 11:30 I walked two blocks down the street to my favorite local pizza joint and ordered a pie. It was all a part of the routine. This place is particularly appropriate for basketball pizza because the owner is a 6’7” Italian immigrant. I take his height as a sign that my basketball pizza should always come from Lucio.
March weather was kind that year in New York. The sun was out. A bit of a breeze but it was that slightly warm spring breeze that didn’t chill you, but simply made you notice it. Because it was a special day, I asked Lucio for mozzarella sticks with my pizza order as an extra treat.
As I walked home with my lunch to catch tip-off, I reflected with a bit of concern. The games of the previous round had proceeded as normal. However, Covid was on the horizon. As soon as I was home, I flipped on the TV. It was about 11:50AM. The view of the players warming up on the court set me back. Not a person in the stands. Other than the players, coaches, and staff - an empty arena. A huge cavern. A few dozen people, at most, in sight. Earlier that day, as a Covid precaution, the Big Ten had announced that the remaining rounds of the tournament would not include in-person fans.
The clock ticked downward toward tip-off and rumors started to spread on social media as I ate a slice. Shortly before the clock hit 0:00, the Big Ten announced the tournament was off. Even though I was concerned about Covid, I sat in shock.
I had sent an email to my parents and in-laws the week prior warning them about the dangers of Covid. My family had stocked up a newly purchased chest freezer and our pantry was filled with supplies in case the worst came to fruition. Still, I didn’t expect this. And, what I expected as the worst possible outcome from Covid was a gross underestimate. I never expected how horribly Covid would tip the world upside down both socially and politically. I didn’t expect the degree of death and destruction. Over a million dead in the US alone and tens of million dead across the world. It was unfathomable even when Covid sat at the doorstep.
Thursday, March 12, 2020. The day wasn’t special because a basketball game was cancelled. I wouldn’t remember what I ate or the weather just because of that. However, I expect that I will remember these things forever. I won’t pass another Thursday afternoon of Big Ten basketball without thinking back to the start of Covid and all the damage it brought and continues to bring to so many people. Today in particular, I have an additional worry. I worry that even with all of its damage and turmoil, the height of the Covid pandemic is fading from our memories too quickly and that we are ignoring the damage it continues to inflict upon those with long-covid and ignoring those who continue to be infected.
Troy Tassier is a professor of economics at Fordham University and the author of The Rich Flee and the Poor Take the Bus: How Our Unequal Society Fails Us during Outbreaks.