The ad break is a mixed blessing – a respite for broadcasters, whose own emotions are understandably overflowing, but a lousy time to sell beer mild, and an inconvenient reminder that without news of Hamlin’s condition (which will not be in the near future). anytime soon), and in the absence of an actual football game (without any decent people in the mood to continue), this advertising money is the only reason the cameras are still rolling. In other words, we are watching the near death of a young man being transformed into a commodity in real time. The second time Buck repeats some variation of the phrase “there’s nothing left to say at this point,” which sounds less like a directive for production trucks – let others struggle for a while – and as a reprimand to the audience. Why are you still watching? Why haven’t you switched channels yet? What kind of person is still interested in a football game now?
More on the fall of Damar Hamlin
This is uncharted territory, the guy on the television more or less told us to turn off the television. The show itself is in an existential crisis. No games to show, no Hamlin status updates to share, no black. The moment Joe Buck said “CPR”, “Monday Night Football” was over. It just can’t end.
Just 250 miles across Ohio, in another sports universe separated by just a few TV channels, the NBA’s Cleveland Cavaliers’ Donovan Mitchell is flocking to 71 points against the Chicago Bulls. That’s the highest single game total in 17 years and it makes Mitchell is one of only seven players in NBA history to make the top 70. Mitchell is strong and athletic, with a 6 foot 10 wingspan that earned him the nickname Spida; The Cavaliers, thanks in large part to him, will most likely make it to the knockout stages for the first time since 1998 without LeBron James on the roster. On the emotional spectrum of sports fans, Mitchell’s night was a stark contrast to the scene in Cincinnati: jubilation in the stands, awestruck teammates on the bench, escalating delirium. in the voice of the announcers. When the Cavaliers won, in extra time, Mitchell’s teammates repeatedly poured water bottles over him, as if to put out a fire, and then all took a picture together with the hero of the night.
These are all the reasons we watch sports. But it didn’t just happen on the same night as Hamlin’s injury; the two events take place in lockstep, in the same real-time hour. On social media, many fans experienced both films at the same time. When I exchanged messages with friends about Mitchell’s total swelling score – 58! 66! 69! 70! – I kept flipping on apps and scrolling through Twitter, where basketball game stats were flanked by ignorant speculations about live-impact arrhythmias and ghouls. blamed the Covid vaccination for Hamlin’s collapse. This isn’t just any regular season NFL game either: the Buffalo Bills and Cincinnati Bengals are Super Bowl contenders, and their playoffs matter in the playoffs, and that’s “Monday Night Football, a multi-billion dollar organization. Then suddenly, by quick consensus, the game doesn’t matter anymore. Skip Bayless, Elon Musk of sports enthusiasts, was so generous in stepping up and tweet a lose about not postponing the game disgusting enough to make the entire platform unite against the disgusting. (He even tried to insult Shannon Sharpe, the former NFL player, with whom Bayless hosted Fox Sports 1’s “Undisputed,” enough to Sharpe to stand up him for their broadcast the next morning.)
But social media also creates avenues for catharsis. Hamlin is an unannounced sixth-round pick from the University of Pittsburgh, near his hometown, McKees Rocks, Pa. He broke the Bills’ starting lineup only in September, after first-string safety Micah Hyde suffered a neck injury and had to leave the stadium in an ambulance. In 2020, Hamlin founded a GoFundMe to support the toy ride home to McKees Rocks, and as of that Monday afternoon, right before the game, he had raised about $2,500. By Friday, the helplessness we all seemed to be feeling for Hamlin was gone. poured over 8 million dollars into his toy drive.
