Here today, gone tomorrow.

It’s been the all-too-common theme of sports in the county, the country and the world.

Presbyterian College’s fall schedules fell with dominoes that spared no one. Clemson and South Carolina are advancing but not without considerable casualties, one of which is the football game between the two that has played every year since 1909 until this one. Most of the games in the Southern and Big South conferences have been put off till early next spring. Coastal Carolina lost a home game against Kansas that is now being played in Lawrence. The Citadel and Charleston Southern are playing a smattering, most notably the Bulldogs’ visit to Clemson.

Furman and Wofford are gone for the fall and crying won’t bring ’em back, which I know because I’ve tried it in behalf of the Paladins, from whom I have derived much enjoyment over the years.

For my entire life, disasters have fallen short of warnings. I remember when putting fluoride in the water was supposedly a communist plot. I grew up in the shadow of nuclear holocaust. Somehow the world and the country muddled through its challenges. Disaster movies never happened in real life.

Just yesterday, repeatedly I heard that Hurricane Laura was “unsurvivable,” and, yet, all morning, I’ve been watching stories of people who survived.

This coronavirus, though … it’s worse than I imagined. If I’d heard, at the end of March, that sports would end, and even when it resumed, no one would be allowed to watch – five months later! – I’d have thought it crazy talk and definitely wouldn’t have started a sports website of my very own.

On Friday night, I hope to write about an 8-man football game between Laurens Academy and Holly Hill Academy. I never looked more forward to a Super Bowl.

I love sports. There’s an excellent chance you do, too, or else you wouldn’t be reading this.

One day, the world, sports and otherwise, will find a new normal.

I like it, I love it, I want some more of it … Thanks, Tim McGraw, I, uh, needed that.