Under normal circumstances, we might’ve woken up Tuesday morning expecting to kick around the ramifications of what a Buffalo Bills win or loss would’ve meant for the New England Patriots’ playoff chances.
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At this point, honestly, I’m not sure I care if another NFL football game is even played this season.
Watching the Bills’ reactions to what happened to teammate Damar Hamlin when the defensive back suffered a cardiac arrest after a routine tackle and had to receive life-saving treatment before their eyes was the stuff of nightmares.
Some of them probably thought in that moment their brother was dead or, at best, that it would take a miracle to save him. Teammates were openly weeping and desperately bargaining with whatever God or gods they believe in on national television to keep Hamlin on this earth a little while longer.
Broadcasters and media members put aside all thoughts of a football game immediately and put on a masterclass of how to professionally and compassionately meet what may have been the rawest, worst moment of their careers.
Yet somehow, the NFL thought a football game could continue at some point afterward simply because it’s Week 17 and the schedule would get messed up.
This league fought and clawed to keep their season going in the midst of a pandemic, even postponing games and playing them on Tuesday nights when needed (rightfully so, by the way). But let someone nearly die on the field, and it’s a “play-on” after five minutes to gather yourself? Just drag Hamlin’s body out of the arena like the gladiator spectacles of old and continue the entertainment?
Fortunately, the Bills and Bengals knew what the league couldn’t grasp for almost an hour and a half: football couldn’t possibly matter after all that. They essentially just walked off the field, packed up and never returned. The Bills even reportedly flew back to Buffalo to regroup and get ready for whatever came next, though at least one teammate, Stefon Diggs, stayed behind for Hamlin as the fallen Bill remained in critical condition at the hospital.
When something like this happens, you’re reminded of two things: even if it’s their job, these men are just playing a game that isn’t worth wantonly sacrificing their lives or mental well-being over, and there are far too many people out there who don’t understand that.
(Then, there are the carrion fowl who can’t wait to use a tragedy to push a conspiracy theory or two to fit a narrative that has no place in an educated world. But that’s not a conversation for this post.)
Postpone the game until Tuesday or Wednesday. Push the entire season back a week. Cancel the whole damn thing. (No, they’re not going to do that. But that’s not the point.)
Who cares now whether the Bills play all their starters in Week 18 against the Patriots or not? Who even wants to see that team forced to take the field and act like this is some kind of normal week after everything it just went through?
Do whatever you have to do, and grapple with it however you need. But you can’t put money, advertisements or entertainment value over the lives of Damar Hamlin, Tee Higgins and all the players, coaches and staffers who just watched a man be brought back from the brink of death at midfield.
After about 8:45 or so last night, those weren’t football players or gladiators anymore. They were just human beings with nothing but love in their hearts for a man who needed all the help he could get.
Let’s all be that for a little while. The rest will sort out in its own time.
