August 27, 2020

When I awoke in the morning there was a text that anyone interested should meet by the Casitas pool for a 9:00 am protest march organized by the NBA referees.  This march was to show support for the decision of the players and the messaging they were trying to bring to the forefront.  I had never participated in a march before, plus I was one hundred percent backing the NBA players so I got dressed hastily and made it over to the pool right when the demonstration began.  We left the pool area in pairs as we paraded past the various media that had been notified about the event and began two laps around the exterior boundary of our bubble followed by one lap around the lagoon to end up at the base of the hotel that housed the players.

I didn’t realize the extent of two laps around the exterior boundary.  Wearing flip flops was not a good idea but there I was dressed like I was going to the beach.  I was plodding 1.7 miles each lap in thin sandal footwear but I was too embarrassed to step out of line and change my footwear after the first lap.  I just put my head down and hoped for the best.

Throughout the trek Disney employees came outside to the parking lot and applauded our actions as we passed.  Their support was much appreciated.  What we were doing didn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things but it was a collective message of unity.  I estimated the number of participants to be around one hundred twenty five but as the march progressed it was harder to get an accurate number because people began to get spaced apart due to their tiredness or inability to adjust to the heat.

When we began our second lap I was completely soaked with perspiration.  All I was doing was walking but my shorts and t-shirt did not have a dry spot on them.  The Orlando heat and humidity takes its toll and takes it quickly.  Still I did not see one person drop away as a result of the temperature.  Everyone that started was determined to finish.

Halfway through the second lap I observed those ahead of me pointing in the direction of one of the exterior lagoons.  Floating menacingly alone in the middle of the water was an alligator, its eyes and head barely poking above the surface.  At first I thought it was a lone log adrift but after closer observation it was definitely an alligator.  Finally, I have seen an alligator on this trip.  I took a picture of it, but the photo looks like a piece of debris alone on the water.

We finished our final lap walking along the path that circles the lagoon and ended at the base of the Gran Destino Hotel.  There a few of the referees thanked us for our support and a few speeches were made in favor of ending racism in our world.  That will be a huge undertaking but hopefully this contributed to the awareness of this issue.  Another noteworthy quote was used at the conclusion.  “It’s not right versus left, it’s right versus wrong…”

I couldn’t wait to get out of my sopping wet clothes and toss my mask in the trash as it was almost impossible to breathe through because it was filled with sweat. I joked that housekeeping would be at my room and I wouldn’t be able to get in.  As I approached the room housekeeping was at my room and I couldn’t get in.  I walked over to building five of the casitas as Sabrina and strung up a couple of hammocks for us to use so I peeled off my wet shirt and rested for about a half hour, much longer than necessary but laying in the shade with a breeze blowing made it tough leave.  Thank goodness her hammocks were made of quick dry material.

On the way back to my room I received a call from KNX radio in Los Angeles to give a brief interview about the march.  A long-time friend of mine, Jon Baird, is a reporter for them and he had texted me during the march just checking in and wondered how I was doing with the suspension of play.  I told him I was marching with the referees and that I would be able to talk after the march.  Well, he relayed that information to his colleagues and one of them called requesting an interview.  It was a short one, about ten minutes long, but he was able to garner enough soundbites to run the interview in various different forms over the next six or seven reports half hour reports.

Even though there were no games scheduled for the day and we didn’t know what the status of the restart was, ESPN still wanted their crew to report to work.  After showering and getting some lunch I boarded the shuttle to the Fieldhouse and readied my equipment for whatever was necessary.  After sitting around for about an hour listening to a huge thunderstorm pelt an enormous amount of water to the roof of the arena, we were told only two camera operators were needed for the rest of the day and I was free to leave.  You don’t have to tell me twice.  Within minutes, after storing my camera, I was out the door on my way to the bus walking on freshly soaked pavement.  The storm had passed and the temperature was comfortable.  I was looking forward to an early dinner and a relaxing evening.

During dinner we still had no clue what our future held. The owners meeting didn’t provide any new light on the situation but that didn’t prevent us from having spirited conversation over our meal.  We were still talking about the movement.  At least, at a minimum, the action of the players had promoted discussion.  I stayed around and chatted with various bubblers much later than expected and made it back to my room after dark.  I flipped on the television after completing my Spanish lesson and watched the tail end of the Republican National Convention. It’s very surprising to me how politicians can stare straight at the crowd they are addressing and spew bold faced lies and their lemmings applaud.  I’m not only accusing the right, I am accusing the left as well.

Before going to bed I ventured out to the pool one more time to see if anyone was out.  Four of my friends from Turner were lounging in the pool and after discussing the various scenarios that lie ahead for us, I made the mistake of mentioning to them an observation I had during the day.  We had been here for about forty five days and I realized I hadn’t touched another human being the entire time.  I had shaken the hand of no one, hadn’t given nor received a hug, absolutely no physical human contact whatsoever.  Boy did they have a field day with that comment.  Sometimes having a deep discussion with those individuals is like talking about sex with a thirteen year old boy.  I should know better than to communicate deep thoughts with that crew, especially after they have had a few adult beverages. Human touch is very important.  Now I understand why in retirement homes it is important to hold the hand of the residents while speaking with them.  Loneliness comes in many forms but the touch from another human being can oftentimes reduce the pain that comes with that.