Sports Can Wait Another Day

  If you know me, you know I love sports. Olympic sports through the NFL,  watching a pick up soccer game to the NBA Finals. That’s me. That’s who I am. 

Sure, there is a lot more about me which I do not discuss. Isn’t that the way it is with us all? I hope some hidden parts come out occasionally in my writing. After all, this is primarily a sports blog, with an absence of politics for good reason. Again, it’s my views, which you can share or not agree with. That’s your choice. 

As you might know, I have a penchant for college campuses and athletic fields, professional sports venues, along with state capitol buildings and State Supreme Courts. Just as much as I love picturesque scenery and state and national parks. After all, in my 72 plus years of life, I have been to all 50 states, many more than once. 

Being the stadium/arena freak that I am, I have walked into a number of venues, talked my way into more (the old Charlotte Coliseum; Stanford Stadium with the help of my daughter) and even shot hoops in a few (Princeton, Rutgers and Clemson); run on legendary football fields (Clemson, Auburn, Georgia Tech, Rutgers and more); or walked on baseball fields used by MLB players (the original Yankee Stadium and the spring training homes of the Mets and Phillies).

Wherever I am and I can drive by, look in or go inside a stadium or gym, I will do it. I get a sense of being there. I can identify with TV broadcasts, knowing where I was—even if a game was not in progress. 

I do that with cities or even broad landscapes. I try to soak in the moment—where I am and what it means to me and countless others. 

I was awed when I went to Wrigley Field and Dodger Stadium. Cathedrals of the baseball world. Being inside of Notre Dame Stadium, Ohio Stadium and Michigan Stadium left lasting impressions. Despite not having anyone else but family, a few tourists and maintenance men parading around. 

I have been inside every professional sports building in Philadelphia. Heck, I went to Talladega Motor Speedway in Alabama because I was nearby. I used to peer into Dover Downs en route to my legislative internship at the Delaware State Senate. The list is seemingly endless—although I have not yet made it to three MLB venues (I have driven by Fenway Park; rode by Busch Stadium while the 1966 All Star Game was in progress; and peered into the old Kansas City Municipal Stadium when the A’s called it home).

Yosemite and Yellowstone. Been there. Mt. St. Helens—yes indeed. The Grand Canyon—twice. I’ve gone down rapids on a raft on the Rogue River in Oregon. I have done plenty of walking on scenic Long Beach Island. My family and I walked across the Mississippi River as it empties out of Lake Itasca in Minnesota. And I have seen all of the Great Lakes close up. 

Yet one of the more unique side trips I ever took was to go inside of an iconic little gym in the middle of paradise. That would be the Lahaina Civic Center, the home of the Maui Invitational. 

It was a beautiful day on Maui when I told my wife we had to go inside. To me, it was a pilgrimage like going to the Dean Dome in Chapel Hill, Duke’s Cameron Indoor Stadium, or Pauley Pavilion at UCLA. Which I have done. 

The building is nondescript. It can easily be confused for a CYO gym in New Jersey. Except it is the home of the greatest college basketball trip for coaches and players of the greatest teams. So much history has been written there. After all, who wouldn’t want to go to Maui for some basketball and adventures that will last for a lifetime?

Until this week. The wildfires which consumed Lahaina took away the signature beauty of one of the most scenic places I have ever been to. My cousin and her family love Maui. So does mine. There is little to compare the majesty of Maui within the U.S.

Now the place where I last visited in 2021 is scorched to the ground in many spots. So much has been lost. Lives have been overturned or tragically ended. 

I have countless memories of my times on Maui, with a bevy of pictures on my cameras and in my mind. The word picturesque is not overused for that island. 

The wildfires are not yet contained. More damage and loss of life will occur. I cry tears for what has happened and will continue until the last ember is mercifully doused, albeit way too late. 

When I returned in 2021, I drove past the Lahaina Civic Center. But I did not go inside this time. I wanted to keep my memories intact. Which they still are. 

I can see the baskets hanging from the rafters, not unlike a high school gym. I remember the mural at one end of the building, seeing it repeatedly when ESPN telecasted from there. I wished I could shoot a basketball, but none was available. I was standing on a basketball court which seemed larger than life. 

For now, the Lahaina Civic Center remains upright. But not out of danger. It is way too early to think about the 2023 Maui Invitational coming to town. Who knows what the infrastructure will be like—if reports are true, it is highly improbable that the island will be able to support the week of fun and hoops; certainly the downtown area has been utterly destroyed. 

Hawaiians are resilient. They live over five hours away from California and have established their own way of life, their own idiosyncrasies over centuries, to survive and flourish. 

Now they must rebuild. The ecosystem has been demolished and will take years to regrow. Tourism, the major industry of the island, will be virtually non-existent for an undetermined time. 

I am so sad for what has happened on Maui. While I have my pictures to console me and the images of the Lahaina Civic Center etched in my brain, I grieve for all that has been lost. 

Yes, I will continue to watch sports and pursue stadiums and colleges I have not visited. 

Come November, I will once more think of Maui, whether the Maui Invitational is played in its rightful home, or on the mainland as it was in 2020 due to COVID. 

Once more I will shed tears for all that was taken away in a flash. This week, it is not the time for me to discuss the woes of the Yankees, Aaron Rodgers or even the pitching gem authored by the Phillies’ Michael Lorenzen. My mind is wrapped around Maui and the devastation which has the focus of the world. 

For now, sports can wait another day.