Is a Bubble the Answer?

For 5 weeks I’ve been living life in the WNBA bubble, also known as the wubble, in Bradenton, Florida at the prestigious IMG Academy. Players and team staff are quarantined, tested daily, and holding social distancing practices as much as possible. We practiced, ate, and gave medical care while getting used to our new normal without being allowed to leave the premises. Well, as much as possible around teens who were on campus for various sports camps and Academy staff who were going home to their families everyday. I guess you could say that we were separated from them as much as we possibly could, although I did find out that Academy staff were being tested every 2-3 days as well. 

I’d be foolish if I said that everything was well-planned and that the logistics were perfect from day one, but through some trial and error, and constant communication, we seem to have hit a bit of a sweet spot. For instance, every person on each team’s travel party had to take 3 coronavirus tests prior to flying out to prove that he/she had not been exposed to the virus. The testing did expose several players prior to leaving and even caused one team to delay departure due to multiple positive results. However, once given the “all clear” we were placed on a commercial flight which, from our city, happened to be a full flight that allowed for no social distancing at all. Thankfully, as a healthcare provider, I was well prepared with an N95 mask, face shield, gloves and enough wipes to sanitize the entire plane. Upon arrival, we then mixed in with the rest of the people in the airport- although by no means full- Florida had just been rated a growing coronavirus hot spot, so even a handful of people warranted suspicion. 

Once we arrived as a team at the IMG premises, we picked up our room or house keys and set out to find our dwellings for the next 4 days where we would be quarantined again. Meals were delivered 3 times a day, and grocery delivery services became fast favorites of everyone. The only time of day that we were allowed to leave was for the daily testing procedure that was scheduled by team so that we did not potentially cross-contaminate one another. After the initial quarantine period practices began for 2 weeks until the season finally kicked off on July 25.

While there have been a small number of true positive tests, most teams have stayed to themselves still, with the occasional moments of mingling at meals or the pool. When a positive result is returned, all team leads are notified, with care to protect the identity of the person to decrease the stigma. The athlete or staff member is immediately isolated in a designated off-campus hotel and tested again for the next 2 days to determine whether or not the result is true or false. In some cases, if there is a roommate or family member present, appropriate care is taken to retest and isolate them if necessary as well. 

The elephant in the room was the noticeable differences between what was shown and exposed about the NBA bubble compared to the wubble. For instance, our testing seemed to be administered using a different procedure almost daily, by different people- some getting good samples and some barely seeming to scratch the surface. The problem is that an insufficient sample is listed as “positive,” causing the individual to be isolated at a remote site and having to wait at least 2 days to obtain consecutive negative results. This has lead to missed games and practices. Instead, the NBA has access to rapid tests to be used in similar cases which can turnaround results within hours and avoid an unnecessary isolation and missed games. Let’s not even talk about how it’s taken the entire 5 weeks to get someone (2 people to be exact) into the wubble to staff the hair salon for a limited 2 week period to do hair for a couple hundred women and the male staff, while the NBA has had multiple barbers on site from the beginning, and they rotate them out every 2 weeks. The WNBA doesn’t know if/when the hairstylists will return after this initial 2 week period. NBA players can also have family members visit and go in and out on designated days, while WNBA players cannot unless they came in on the first day as a caregiver for an accompanying child. 

The disparities in services and accommodations are present and the topic of some conversations, but overall everyone recognizes the real reason we are here- to cut the risk of exposure to, and spread of the coronavirus. It is my opinion and has been for a few months now, that it will be difficult to play any sport without the use of a “bubble” experience. This takes a lot of time and effort to plan and raises multiple medical and logistical challenges. I applaud the medical professionals and team and league representatives who have labored tirelessly to make a season possible, and I believe that the NBA and WNBA have been successful because of it. Is it realistic to put all football (college or professional) or major league baseball teams into the same bubble where they only interact with one another, are tested daily, and don’t have to travel for games? Probably not. For this reason, I side with the college conferences that have decided to forgo all Fall sports. 

I also applaud the NCAA for beginning to look at possible bubble situations for men’s basketball already, and hope that they can identify locations that can adequately support the unique needs of athletic medicine, performance and education of college athletes. I’d be lying if I said that I was 100% confident that the NFL season would start without a hitch. We have seen the challenges that MLB has faced when each team has been allowed to “create” it’s own bubble at the facility. However, trusting athletes to go straight home, not have outside company or even family visit, and the many other scenarios make it very difficult to predict outcomes from day to day. The truth is that America still has way too many people who don’t take the virus and it’s spread seriously, thus the decisions made away from the facility are often based solely on self.

I’m not sure what it will take for us to change our behavior collectively so that we can eradicate this virus, but hopefully, sports can help us unify in ways nothing else has been able to do. 

Similar Read: Do You Remember 2020?

Breonna

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Injuries: None

Forced Entry: No

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A black woman was murdered by a team of police officers in Louisville, KY while she was asleep over 90 days ago. What you have just read is the sum of the police report filed by the precinct after that incident. 

We now know that, according to Breonna’s mother, the boyfriend called her at some point during or after the ordeal, afraid to tell her Breonna was dead while the apartment was hit with a hail of bullets by unannounced officers trying to serve a search warrant, not realizing they were in the wrong apartment. Her mom rushed to the apartment complex in the middle of the night and recalls she was sent to the hospital by an officer on the scene telling her that “the ambulance with the girl” was already on its way. 

She waited… 2 hours… to be told that there was no record of anybody by that name at said hospital. When she returned and was able to speak to a detective who, after waiting a few more hours, asked her if Breonna had any enemies, or if she and her boyfriend did drugs, or were having any relationship problems – ya know, typical “black issues” that could later become an alibi for the police. They. Tried. To frame. A sleeping. Woman. For her own. Death. 

Sidebar: The past couple of months have caused me to personally reassess several areas of my life and the world around me. Where do I go from here and how do I address this “new normal” during a worldwide pandemic that is snatching the lives of black and brown people at astonishing rates because research is never done on how pain and diseases affect OUR bodies. While the higher-profile deaths of more black men AND women at the hands of officers, and those pretending to be law enforcement have made me feel inept in other ways. The perceived value and worth of a black body in 2020 seems to be less than the ⅗ of a human being that we were once offered. I was feeling like I needed to crawl deeper into my safe space in order to preserve my own existence. And then a friend, a black man in my community offered these words of unsolicited encouragement that became the elevator and awakening that I didn’t know I needed to hear: “thank you to you, and all women of color, who have always taken on the black man’s issues without even batting an eye. And we as black men haven’t always been there to protect you and say thank you. So for all men let me say thank you. You and the rest of black women don’t have to do what you do.” This diatribe, this tribute, though mere words over a quarantined distance, is what all black women need to hear from black men daily- if not several times a day- to begin filling the ditches dug in our souls. Beginning with the watery graves of the revolting slaves, who preferred to jump to their deaths in the Atlantic Ocean rather than be a slave in the new world. 

As we stand at the time of this article being published, the officers have yet to be arrested or held accountable for Breonna Taylor’s death, as if she was just collateral damage on a call-gone-wrong. A bullet hole in a wall, or door broken down, furniture flipped over. As a black woman, I am left literally speechless and in shock. What am I to make of any of this? How can anyone justify an ambush- a murder- in this way? Thank you, king, for delivering a statement that reminds me of my priceless contribution to this earth, because some days I truly wonder… Is it that, in this big, wide world, to some people black women are just…

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Similar Read: Are We Surprised?

Conversation With a Black Man

Black man, I prayed for you last night… except there weren’t many words. You see, like you I have found myself heavy and burdened with emotions due to the events of the past week… month… years… I know you’re laughing because, “Since when is a black woman at a loss for words?” We can chuckle about that together, but this time I think we both understand why. Really, I prayed because I grew weary of screaming and cussing in frustration about the loss of another brother or sister. 

George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and almost Chris Cooper in Central Park have caused everyone in the world to pause and re-examine his/her own relationship with black skin, and it’s relative treatment in America in 2020. Add to that a layers of pure racism and cowardice that can no longer be masked by a liberal white woman with a dog, racist white men in your friendly Georgia neighborhood, or an enduring system of police brutality that this time chose a knee over a gun. Well, not just any knee, but the patellofemoral joint of an adult white male supporting the full weight of his torso and body transferred through his pelvis down the length of his femur to the approximately 5.5 mm carotid artery of Mr. Floyd. For almost 9 minutes a murderer slowly stole the life of another Black man, depriving him of vital oxygen and nutrients desperately needed by his brain for survival, reportedly because he was resisting arrest even though former Ofc. Chauvin’s hands stayed in his pockets the entire time, devoid of struggle to contain Mr. Floyd. 

So, yes, I prayed for you in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, because enough is enough and- in the words of Fannie Lou Hamer – “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” In the moans and groans of a grandmother on her knees in the middle of the night waiting for her prodigal grandson to return home. I whispered the words and melodies of songs lined out in a hymn by the mothers of the church who maybe couldn’t read or write intelligibly, but knew how to place that note so perfectly deep in your soul that every time you heard it, you got chills. I lifted up a prayer filled with the tears of a single mother who is utterly exhausted and whose true desire is for her and her children to be safe. That “arms wrapped around me” kind of protection that any man wants to give his family as a father, husband, brother, son, and provider, and that every woman wants to receive. Yet I understand that many times, Black man, you can’t because throughout countless generations you’ve been trying to survive, prevent and even run from a system that was designed to lynch or disable you by any means necessary. And while many may disagree, I suggest that safety and security are 2 of the most vital needs for a woman from a man. At home, in our communities, and even on our jobs and in places of worship. Although, Breona Taylor had just that with her boyfriend asleep beside her in their Louisville, KY apartment when the police stormed in unannounced and unloaded a hail of bullets into her body in the middle of the night, not realizing until they killed her that they were in the wrong apartment.

Whether you wanted me to or not, I prayed for you this morning to receive the strength to rise up with God’s help, wisdom and guidance to defeat this enemy of police brutality and systemic racism in America and all over the world. For you to have the courage stand upright as a Black man in your God-given power that the world is so afraid for you to possess, because they know that you would rule if only you realized it was yours. I asked God to hear my heart because no words would suffice to adequately describe the despair, rage, and gut-wrenching pain that it sometimes takes to be an African-American woman who loves and cherishes African-American men. I, hell WE, are praying for you, standing beside you and fighting with you because the security of our children, families and communities depend on it.

Love,

Your Black Woman

Similar Read: Dear Black Man  

Justice for Ahmaud?

[New Contributor]

February 23, 2020 – I don’t remember much about that day for myself. It was a Sunday so I probably went to church, came home and got in some comfortable clothes, and spent the rest of the day on the couch doing much of nothing. Within a couple of weeks, I’d be on lockdown in my home for the foreseeable future, unsure of when my life would get back to normal, if that ever was to exist again. It was on that day that 25-year-old Ahmaud Arbery decided to go for a jog in his Brunswick, GA neighborhood. Unbeknownst to him, a father and son would be out on the same road that day looking for trouble. You see, they kept their loaded shotguns in the back of the truck I’m sure just in case they passed some wandering deer, possums, or for the occasional menacing ni**er. Of course, they say that this Black man, jogging down the street trying to tend to his own health, “matched the description” they say of a burglary suspect. According to them, that’s when they grabbed their guns and decided to leave the house in an effort to pursue him on a “citizen’s arrest.” What happens from there is anyone’s guess, and the coward filming appears to be more concerned with catching the action than preserving a life considering that he later shared the video with friends bragging about what had happened.

I’m not going to spend a whole lot of time combing back through all of the details and facts that we can find on every major and minor news outlet. I don’t have the time to contemplate why it’s appropriate for the state of Georgia to allow people to get a haircut during the Covid-19 pandemic, but conveniently can’t find the means to arrest or bring charges against 2 men who have spent the last 2 months at home, alive, believing that they had every right to pursue another human being and kill him without any question. I’m sure that, after a couple of weeks, they assumed they were in the clear and that nothing would be done. The father and son had probably even turned their attention to protesting the loss of their own “freedom” during a time where people were dying, because it wasn’t directly affecting them so they wanted the privilege to move around freely again. After all, it’s their American right to do so!

My questions at this time are many, my anger is at a boiling point and I don’t have enough energy to process frustration. Instead, I find myself asking- 

“Was Ahmaud not allowed to be scared when 2 men rolled up in a pick-up truck pointing guns at him?”

“Is it possible to fight back when strangers come out of nowhere and interrupt your peaceful jog by pointing a long gun at you and screaming at you in a way that must’ve rendered you confused and in shock?”

“Why is a very real threat to people who look like me always laced with questions and doubt, as if it’s some sort of made up, imaginary fantasy?”

“Are we still unable to acknowledge the history of domestic terrorism towards Blacks in this country? The kind that makes sure every Black child is given “the speech” by parents and elders from the time they are able to listen, and doesn’t stop even into adulthood because now a wife is also concerned that her husband may not make it home safely.

“Was my ability to feel pain stripped away when my ancestors had their children stolen from them at an auction block, never to be held or nurtured again? Am I still supposed to be that numb?”

“When do I get to feel what I want to feel- fear, hurt, frustration, pain- and express it without being labeled as “angry” and “black.”

I can’t say for sure what will happen this time. If the District Attorney is suggesting that it is taken to a grand jury, I can’t respectfully thank him for his consideration and walk away expecting justice to be served. What I am sure of, however, is that the courtesy that the Black community has extended to those who have hurt us over the past 400 years is wearing thin and patience is running out. I am educated and experienced, and this weekend will receive a doctorate degree. Yet, I personally will think twice about the vengeance I withhold, and will no longer be polite in my stance when the death Black and Brown people is a movie that can be played over and over again without even a warning label, as if to desensitize us all to the fact that Ahmaud was even human. Ask yourself when was the last time you even saw a video of a dog being killed that didn’t come with a warning or of “graphic violence and animal cruelty”? I’ll wait…