The first time that I heard about the coronavirus was on a television show that discussed sports, politics, and politics in sports. The host of the show said the coronavirus was a “hoax.” The next time I heard about coronavirus was in my boxing gym. One of the guys around me sneezed and another guy around jokingly said, “It’s the coronavirus.” I don’t remember whether or not I laughed but if I didn’t laugh it was partially because I didn’t really know what the coronavirus was. If I did, it would probably be because the first time I heard of it, I was told from the television that it was just another hoax so it was okay for someone to joke about it.
In February, my grandfather had already had cancer and was approaching death. He loved watching sports and also played when he was younger. The last game he might have ever seen was the Super Bowl. I’m glad he made it to that point because football was his favorite sport, and the sport he was best at when he was young. If he was going to die in the early part of this year, I’m kind of glad it would be then. Americans knew about coronavirus by that time, but its presence didn’t really hit home for them until March.
I’m at peace knowing that my grandfather didn’t have to die being fearful of the virus and being in an environment that was fearful of the virus since he was in a nursing home. My grandfather always saved his vacation days for the month of February. Every February, he would spend this time traveling to the south to visit and stay with family members in Georgia, Florida, and elsewhere. I’ve heard before that people often choose when to die, and can choose to hold on to life until a certain time. By dying in early February, my grandfather was able to have a funeral service in Georgia where he was born. Having been conditioned to anticipate his presence that month, his family and friends were able to attend.
My wake up call to the virus was when NBA player Rudy Gobert tested positive for the coronavirus. I was watching the Dallas Mavericks against the Denver Nuggets when news hit that Gobert was infected with the coronavirus. It was reported that before the game was to begin, a team doctor came out running onto the floor screaming for the game to be adjourned and to test Gobert for the virus. Throughout the nationally televised game, it was reported that Gobert was ill. Once halftime approached, it was reported that it was confirmed that he tested positive for the coronavirus. There were constant updates on what the NBA was thinking of doing that night. The NBA ruled that the season would be suspended. This news was all that broadcasters were talking about. They weren’t even commentating on the actual game for the entire third quarter. There was a camera shot of Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban with an astonished look of shock, mouth agape, and eyebrows lifted to the roof. He was the first person in the stadium to receive the news. After news of the suspension broke, the broadcast kept replaying that shot of Cuban. Later in the fourth quarter, the crowd and the players got more animated and emotional. That meant that they all ended up getting informed whether through their phones or through their coaches. Watching this whole thing unfold was unreal. It seemed like something out of a movie. I was witnessing a historical moment and living in it. I had to tell my parents what was going on. They were casually hearing it in the house, but I explained to them what happened and then they watched the rest of the quarter. In the fourth quarter with commentary that went back to describing the actual game for what will be the last time until further notice. After that game ended, ESPN was to go to another game that was scheduled, but then during the programming of that game, it was announced that the NBA canceled the rest of the night’s games as well. To fill the time, there was constant talk of what unfolded after ESPN switched to SportsCenter. I feel like when the NBA suspended the season, that was like the coronavirus’ coming-out party in America. That’s when probably millions of other Americans realized that this was no hoax and should definitely be taken seriously. It also seemed like the beginning of what would be an eerie change in society. The NBA’s decision would have a domino effect among other institutions in sports and beyond.
Master Jay was quite a man. Jay Hamilton was a large and imposing, bald-headed, person from Brooklyn. He lived where my family used to live in East Flatbush. He was a pillar of our church for a long time, a mentor to one of my brothers, and a father figure to many young men. I remember us going to his studio where he worked with a lot of prominent musicians. I remember him prophesying to one of my friends that we invited to church. He advised him about his relationship with his mother to the point where my friend almost started crying. As a matter of fact, before his eyes started tearing up, Master Jay told him that he would stop talking about my friend’s mother. I remember Master Jay being an honorable, authoritative, and approaching tasks in a manner that some would see as intense and others would see as passionate. When one of the deacons of the church died, the funeral was unlike anything else I’ve ever seen I’ve ever attended. It was theatrical, musical, and emotional. The finale consisted of the choir approaching the crescendo with the casket being slowly closed at the same time. As the final powerful note was bellowed, his family was waiting in the front row. Most of the church joined them in crying at that dramatic, almost cinematic moment. After the service, my mother said, “Master Jay, this was all you wasn’t it?” He confirmed that he was the “master” mind behind the whole production of the service. Only a mind like Master Jay could create and direct a funeral like that. The coronavirus killed Master Jay Hamilton.
My time during the coronavirus outbreak will always be remembered. I lost my grandfather and Master Jay and that night watching the NBA seems a long time ago.
