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One of the most historic days in sports history seemed so normal until everything was turned upside down in an instant.
I hit the arena 90 minutes before the start of Game 5 between the Milwaukee Bucks and Orlando Magic and everything felt normal. As I walked to my socially distant broadcast location, there were Bucks and Magic players on the arena floor conducting individual workouts and our pregame meetings with the head coaches were as usual. There was nothing to indicate that the game would not start as expected that afternoon. With 20 minutes on the clock before the tip, the Magic took the floor and there was no sign of the Bucks. It didn’t register what was happening at first, but as the minutes began to tick by at what seemed like a rapid pace, the confusion quickly mounted.
Our crew was now minutes away from going live on national television and I was on the phone with my producer, who was telling me to be ready for anything. I was staring at the arena floor where Monty McCutchen, the league’s Vice President of Umpire Development and Training huddled with the game’s umpires, the Magic players began to stop their warm-ups, looking around in awe as the rest of the U.S. Behind me, several NBA league executives were chatting quietly on cell phones. All the spark and energy you normally feel in a playoff game instantly evaporated. We all knew that the boycott discussions had taken place earlier that day, but I didn’t see it coming so quickly.
When the game clock struck zero and the ball was supposed to tip, the sand felt incredibly haunting. It was dark, cold, empty and it felt so cavernous. No one stayed on the floor except for our TV crew, while everyone in the game waited anxiously outside a locked Bucks locker room to see what would happen next. It’s almost as if the atmosphere is a reflection of what my heart felt: dark and heavy. Many of my black colleagues, friends, and underserved communities are suffering. This was much bigger than basketball. Social injustices must end.
It was such a strange dichotomy because everyone in that game was professionals beyond measure, from NBA staff to Bucks general manager Jon Horst, broadcasters, etc., yet we were all navigating a situation. that we had never seen before. It was so unprecedented. For me, my mind instantly changed. I went into that game prepared to talk about Giannis Antetokounmpo as Kia’s Defensive Player of the Year and now it was solid news and facts. He needed to get it right. He wanted to do justice to a moment that he knew was going to change things, and he hoped for something better.
Over the next several hours, I gathered as much information as possible by running between the Bucks locker room and the empty arena floor where we had a camera set up for live shots. We relayed information to an audience that had swiftly passed from NBA fans to Americans across the country. My phone was being blown up by people all over the country telling me they were tuned in to the unfolding events. Looking back, a last-minute decision by the Bucks was brilliant, as instead of a basketball game, both NBA TV and NBA on TNT were now talking about social injustice in a way that was real, raw, and changeable on the part. from the people. second. The decision to sacrifice a playoff game made by the team playing in the same state where Jacob Blake was shot seven in the back immediately became the NBA’s most significant moment in the league’s fight for social justice.
One of the Bucks players told me that “it was necessary to apply pressure and responsibility.” Mission accomplished; the country was now on alert. In the end, the entire Bucks team came out of the locker room and addressed the media. As they made a collective statement demanding systemic change, the sincerity, pain, strength and determination could be heard in the voices of George Hill and Sterling Brown who carried the message.
While it may seem like I would remember that day and be proud to help tell such an important story, the feelings that resonate with me the most right now are sadness and anger that we still don’t have equality and peace. Why are innocent lives like George Floyd’s being taken just because his skin is darker than mine?
Since I came to the Bubble, what has infuriated me are the hateful and racially charged reactions that I have seen on all social media platforms from people in response to the injustice of Masai Ujiri, the shooting of Jacob Blake and now the decision to the Bucks to sacrifice a playoff game. “It was Ujiri’s fault that he was mugged,” “Blake deserved to be shot,” and “the Bucks complain.” I could go for the value of surprise and repeat some of the most vulgar comments I have seen, but I prefer not to give a platform to ignorance and hatred.
I’ve never seen it in color and maybe it’s easy for me to say because I’ve never been marginalized because of the color of my skin. A part of me thought that maybe I shouldn’t express my opinion because I’m white; It is not me who is being directly affected by racism and injustice. I can only sympathize, but not empathize, with what blacks have been feeling for countless centuries. But I feel the pain. I want to continue to feel the pain as much as I can until we replace racism with equality because I am human. I understand the difference between good and evil. And what seems wrong to me right now is not saying anything at all. This is not a black people problem, it is a human problem. These are all our problems until we see systemic change.
I’m proud of the Bucks for raising the bar for responsibility. I am proud of the commitment of the NBA and the Players Association to create a social justice coalition and turn the 30 team arenas into polling places for the 2020 general election before agreeing to resume play in Orlando. And as playoff games restart this weekend and the NBA continues to speak from the heart and compete for a championship, I will continue to feel it all, especially when it hurts the most. I will be here to listen, learn, support and grow. As Martin Luther King Jr. once said, I choose to “show justice, love kindness, and walk humbly.” Today and every day, I choose to be supportive.
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Rebecca Haarlow is a secondary reporter for Turner Sports. You can follow her on twitter .
Views on this page do not necessarily reflect the views of the NBA, its clubs, or Turner Broadcasting.
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