Monday was a return to normalcy for the sports world.
Six days after the largest tragedy in this nation's history, Major League Baseball players and fans alike put aside their grief, sorrow and anger for a couple of hours in order to see if St. Louis' Bud Smith could pitch another no-hitter or Randy Johnson could continue his chase on Nolan Ryan's single-season strikeout record.
There were wins and losses, home runs and double plays and attempts at reaching post-season berths.
But none of those things really seemed to matter Monday night.
For the past week, sports have felt like an afterthought, as they should have. Better writers than I have tried to put things in perspective and explain how insignificant any kind of sporting event is in the wake of this national tragedy, and I think they've done a pretty good job.
However, most people don't need any kind of writer, especially a sports writer, to tell them sports haven't even registered as a blip on the radar of most Americans. Sure, there were players, coaches and fans that wanted baseball and football to continue this weekend, but league officials decided in a moment of clarity that it was too soon for sports, that the wounds from Tuesday were too fresh.
Those officials were right. Tuesday's wounds were still too much to bear this weekend, and they'll continue to be too much to bear for a long time.
But, as has been urged by President Bush and countless others this past week, our nation has to move on and in a sense, it has already done so. Businesses opened as usual Monday morning and baseball, long thought of as the national pastime, saw six National League games on the slate for Monday evening.
Like I said before, the wins and losses didn't really matter. The baseball games played Monday night were more about a sense of community and togetherness than anything else.
People gathered around televisions to watch their heroes hit home runs and pitch strikes and win games. They gathered around their televisions to be amazed. They gathered around their televisions to escape from the violence and hatred of the real world for three hours.
For most Americans, those three hours were sorely needed.
