What do we do with ourselves? After Pearl Harbor, Franklin D. Roosevelt persuaded baseball’s commissioner, Kenesaw Landis, to keep baseball going to take people’s minds off the war. A week after 9/11, baseball was back on. But even sports can’t get us through this. It’s a planet-wide stoppage until … who knows? And when they do finally come back, Tom Brady won’t even be wearing a New England Patriots uniform. We are through the looking glass, people.

I’ve tried reality TV. Please. Sports are the only true reality TV. No writer scripts Buster Douglas knocking out Mike Tyson. No director says, “Okay, what we need here is the baseball to bounce off Jose Canseco’s head for a home run.” No studio is going to buy a movie in which the 199th draft pick wins six Super Bowls.

Netflix? Amazon? Disney Plus? Sports have 10 times more drama, tragedy, and plot resolution, and nobody is acting. Sports have more passion, emotion, and tears than The Bachelorette, and the rings actually mean something. Sports have more cliffhangers, twists, and surprise endings than a screenwriters’ convention, and the sequels are miles better. I give you Ali-Frazier II vs. Caddyshack 2.