High school football’s happening this fall. In some places, at least. Let’s unpack that
This is not the column I expected to write. This column is complicated. The column I had in mind was easy. Clear. Angry, even. This one is hopeful, fearful, optimistic, doubtful ... more emotions than I imagined, all at once.
High school football should not be played this fall. Under any circumstances. That’s the column I’d expected to write. How would I think anything else?
These are kids, for crying out loud, and even if their death rates from COVID-19 are extremely low, they have parents, grandparents, teachers, aunts, uncles, coaches. Growing evidence and concern among doctors exists that the virus leads to long-term heart complications.
That’s part of why the Big 10 and Pac-12 canceled fall football this season. Medical schools in those leagues have some of the best doctors in the country. Those leagues have many stacks of cash that high schools simply don’t, with enormous financial incentive to play games, any games. And they’re turning it away.
All of that is true, and local high schools — without testing, without advanced tracing, without large medical staffs — think they should play football?
Yes. This was going to be an easy column. Anger at the delusion of school administrators and coaches who think they have the answer that bigger, richer and more invested programs lack.
But then I ran into a problem. I started calling some of those administrators and coaches.
Why football is happening
“I have very strong feelings about this,” said Kelly Donohoe, the new coach at Rockhurst High. “We need to play. Kids need this. They need to play.”
This is where it becomes more complicated.
Donohoe received my first call. That was intentional. Rockhurst is the city’s highest-profile program, with kids from both sides of State Line Road, but more importantly he’s thoughtful. Considerate.
We go back nearly 20 years, hundreds of conversations, and he’s never said something he didn’t mean. Never said something he hadn’t thought through.
He’s also a cancer survivor. You know what that means. Elevated risk. Donohoe knows this. He’s talked to his cancer doctor about it. This is not some meathead football coach being led more by testosterone than logic. This is a husband, a father, a friend, a mentor, faced with one of the most difficult decisions of his life. He’ll coach.
He’s achieved clarity.
“You do think about that, obviously,” Donohoe said. “You have to. I did that part of it.”
Doesn’t that mean something? Donohoe’s decision isn’t for everyone. There’s at least one Rockhurst football player won’t play this fall because he lives with a family member who has a pre-existing condition. Others around the city are sitting out, too, some by a parent’s choice, others personal.
KCK schools won’t play this fall. That decision was announced this week. Some schools in St. Louis will postpone or cancel, too.
North Kansas City district superintendent Dan Clemens said cases connected to summer workouts were rare or nonexistent. Practices on the Missouri side started this week (Kansas goes next week), but because this is 2020 we need to clarify that they are on for now.
“We’ve had a lot of success, but I’m also seeing the rate of exposure in Kansas City is going up,” he said. “So I don’t know if that’s going to change what we’ve seen on our fields and in our activities.”
There are no clear ways through, but here’s some helpful advice: Ignore the extremes on either side. They tend to take up the most oxygen. They also block the most useful exchanges of perspectives.
The coaches, players and parents invested in high school football teams that play games this fall are not by definition reckless, same as those whose programs postpone are not by definition paralyzed by fear.
The NFL was always going to move forward. There is too much money to be made to not at least try, and too many resources for testing and tracing to not believe it has at least a chance. Besides, these are well-compensated adults making informed decisions about whether to participate.
College football was always going to have problems. Schools — the ones below the headline tier of Alabama, Michigan, Ohio State, Clemson and a few others, anyway — don’t have those same resources. College athletes are, somehow and technically, amateurs. They can’t be bubbled. Can’t have the same participation in creating protocols.
That matters, too, which is a pretty good way to get where college football is at the moment: confusion. The Big 12, SEC and ACC are holding on. The implications are enormous, not just for the future of the sport but for the future of all college sports that depend on football revenue for survival.
High school football has none of that. Money for testing and tracing would help. There is no doubt. But the worst assumptions about professional and major college sports — that administrators are more comfortable gambling lives when there’s profit to be made — don’t apply here.
These are coaches, administrators, players and parents making difficult decisions based on the reward of participation against the risk of infection. Easy answers still don’t exist, but the complications are lessened. That matters, too.
Park Hill High usually has 180 kids out for conditioning. The coaches were told to expect half that many this summer. Instead, day one, they had about 260.
“We hear from some parents who say their kids need this,” Park Hill football coach Josh Hood said. “They’re thinking more about mental health. They think this is something they need. They’re thinking about the mental side of it if they don’t get back out there.”
Ruskin coach William Perkins has reason to be anywhere else. He and his wife each have a condition that he said makes them more vulnerable. He’s coaching, though, because that’s where he and his players want to be.
“There’s some concern,” he said. “But it’s just more to make sure we’re following guidelines and take whatever precautions we can. It’s a small hesitation, but not that much.”
We’re all guessing, which is usually fine. Life is a series of educated guesses. We do the best we can. Except here, now, for the last five months those educated guesses have come with enormous consequences — literal death if we’re wrong one way, and the unnecessary halt of life if we’re wrong the other.
The CDC’s guidelines focus in part around avoiding personal contact closer than six feet for more than 15 minutes. That sounds fine, but are we really to believe six feet, 1 inch and 16 minutes is riskier than an offensive and defensive lineman crashing into each other 50 times in five-second bursts?
“The type of contact does matter,” said Zach Binney, an epidemiologist at Emory University. “I think people should definitely be concerned that the virus could spread quite easily from the close, jarring contact, that produces and transmits a lot of respiratory droplets that’s inherent in football. But exactly what that risk is, I don’t think you have data for that yet.”
We know more now than we did in March, when our world stopped, but not nearly enough. This should have been a time for our divided country to come together, to fight a common enemy, but instead it has amplified our differences.
Case numbers and spread and risk are far different in Kansas City and its large suburbs than they are in, say, Adrian or Oakley. Many schools are welcoming students back to class, often with hybrid models that allow for some “distance learning.”
Football is our ultimate contact sport, but the risk level is hard to quantify. What if players are wearing masks? And distancing? With equipment that’s regularly sanitized? Is that riskier than navigating packed hallways between classes?
Is it riskier than whatever the those athletes would be doing without the structure, incentive and oversight provided through organized sports?
“Don’t quote this wrong, but if we don’t give kids a place to participate they’re going to find ways to participate on their own,” Clemens said. “They’ll find an empty field, they’ll find an empty basketball court. They’ll find somewhere to go do this. At least when we’re doing it in a school activity we can ensure those precautions are being followed. So that’s the rock and the hard spot for me.”
We all want easy answers. Easy answers are the best. We feel good when we have them. Sure. Certain. Easy answers haven’t existed for a while now.
Everyone is doing their best to mitigate risk. Every team — from the Kansas City Chiefs to the Tonganoxie Chieftains — wears masks and distances and sanitizes. Some have more resources to do it than others, and some may be more efficient. But those are everyone’s directives now.
The decision comes down to how much risk you can tolerate How much is this worth to you? How comfortable are you with more exposure? With the unknowns?
Because without clear and consensual medical directives, the most complicated and heavy decision most anyone figures to have about sports participation will be determined by tolerance of risk.
That’s personal, and different for you than it may be for me, and different for either of us than it may be for the starting left guard at Shawnee Mission North.
Your view isn’t your neighbor’s
Remember when we talked about the Big 10 and Pac-12 having medical schools with some of the best doctors in the country?
Well, that’s true, but the same can be said about the Big 12, SEC and ACC. Big 12 commissioner Bob Bowlsby also sought guidance from health experts at the Mayo Clinic. Decent doctors there. Cameron Wolfe is an infectious disease specialist at Duke and the chair of the ACC’s medical advisory team.
He seems qualified to speak on this.
“We believe we can mitigate it down to a level that makes everyone safe,” Wolfe told Sports Business Daily. “Can we safely have two teams meeting on the field? I would say yes. Will it be tough? Yes. Will it be expensive and hard and lots of work? For sure.”
The Big Ten and Pac-12 are said to be influenced in part by evidence of myocarditis complications — heart problems — related to COVID-19. That’s compelling, and that information should be shared publicly. Cooperation makes us stronger.
High schools, in particular, would benefit. Maybe it would lead to more kids being tested, both for the virus and for myocarditis. Maybe it would lead to more kids not participating. Maybe it would lead to more kids and parents participating with free minds. Whatever the outcome, it would be better.
Americans love to judge each other. We make instant decisions on what we’d do in someone else’s situation, without the details, and we call them stupid or reckless or worse if they don’t agree.
I’m not proud of this, but if I’m completely honest, that’s the column I expected to write before the phone calls I made. My kids are too young for football. I thought that would give me a clear head to see the obvious answers here. But, again, obvious answers are gone.
Some schools and kids have already decided to sit out, and good for them. More will follow, and good for them, too. But some games will happen, memories will be made, and great for those kids. They’ve worked hard. They’ll remember this forever.
We don’t need the extremes on either side here. They are not just unhelpful, but destructive. We need more recognition that parents and kids are making some of the hardest decisions of their lives. What’s good for one might not be good for another.
Let’s respect that.
This story was originally published August 13, 2020 at 10:10 AM.