Sometimes a harsh reality is forced upon us

On a whim, I decided to become a sports writer because my world revolves around athletics.

Whether it’s basketball, football, soccer, you name it, sports has always been the most important thing in my life.

Directly out of college, I was a banker and I quickly grew tired of viewing the world — the sports universe you could call it — from an outsider’s perspective. I needed, no I had to get in the middle of it.

Once coming to the Idaho State Journal, questions about whether Blackfoot could repeat as 4A state football champions or if the Idaho State women can replicate the same magic from last season were of the utmost importance.

I think about those things day after day. They’re all encompassing. President Obama or Governor Romney? No thanks, I’ll worry about Notre Dame or Alabama.

I probably care too much. Just ask my wife. Like any fan, I’m  despondent when my teams lose. Games and leagues, fabricated only to make a profit, have grown, evolved into ... into ... life or death.

But then something like what happened in Connecticut shifts my perspective. Life is ripped into a sharp focus.

The games that mean so much fade into the background.   

I call my mom who I haven’t seen in months to say hi.

I tell my wife how much I love her.

Hell, I even appreciate my cat more.

And I’m heartbroken that someone could walk into an elementary school and kill 26 people.

And I’m ashamed. Ashamed I ever assumed a basketball team or a sport could matter so much.

I search for meaning.

I wonder how I could cover a game like Idaho State versus Carroll College. Does it matter?

I became a sports writer to immerse myself in the very center of the things I value most. Then a psycho shatters my false reality.

I question myself. I ask questions of my life, of all human lives. They’re too big to grasp. I have no answers, of course.

So I go cover a basketball game.

I’m watching to see how the Bengals have improved from the last time I saw them play in an exhibition matchup against Colorado State-Pueblo. In Carroll’s previous game, senior Weber State-transfer Megan Patterson had 28 points in 29 minutes. Can ISU slow her down?

And pretty quickly my mind absorbs the game, the rhythm of play.

Thousands of miles removed from the shooting in Newtown, Conn., I move on with no direct attachments.

Soon, I suppose, the games will move back to the forefront of my mind. I’ll fool myself again that a win or a loss on a schedule holds some kind of meaning. That’s life isn’t it? We have to move on.

Which is easy for me to say. Those left in the brutal, unrelenting wake of the tragedy will never again view their lives the same way.

I move on but I do it begrudgingly. There’s a sadness in my heart. I hope the next time my team loses, a referee makes a bad call or a player has a boneheaded play, I remember one thing: It’s just a game.