It’s a Tonic When Fire Is Put Out

City in cinders. Death. Destruction. I drive by the Sports Arena. No basketball tonight. A cop considers my comment, checks my ID, lets me by, warns me not to linger. He shakes his Plexi-masked head, utters a mild profanity, practically spits back the word: “Basketball.”

Crackle of glass beneath my tires. Danger. Desperation. I drive by the Coliseum. Am reminded of ancient ruins, Nero’s music. To my left lie mounds of ash. To my right, charred remains of a city asunder. A shoe store, gutted. A liquor store, looted. A gas station, littered. Exposed pumps of fuel. Black smoke billowing ominously from 3rd and Vermont. More licking flame from a landscape as incandescent as a birthday cake.

Corners to turn, debris to dodge. Disbelief. Desolation. I drive by the campus of USC. Note the lack of activity, catch word from the radio of called-off classes, postponed final exams, imminent curfews. Spot someone over here, someone over there, scavenging near a market, scuttling up a sidewalk, glancing furtively over their shoulders, some for fear of being caught doing something wrong, some for fear of being found doing nothing wrong.

Fire. Fear. A community gripped by both, afraid to work, afraid to play.

May Day in L.A.

Games in flames. Clipper basketball, postponed. Dodger baseball, postponed. Hollywood Park horse racing, postponed. Today’s sports report.

A city is burning, by varying degrees of sadness and madness, making it awkward to give great significance to a sports report. It is an understandable instinct, however. Certain things we don’t so much need to know as want to know. Things like: Would the Lakers play the next day or lock their doors? Should night games be rescheduled into matinees? Not impertinent questions, these. They come under the heading of the most pertinent question of all: When will we get back to normal?

Yet with human beings being beaten and killed, bystanders brutalized, buildings vandalized, at least one firefighter being attacked with his own ax and 4,000 National Guard troops mobilizing toward the intensifying burning of South-Central Los Angeles, the sports page’s priority remains different from the one on Page 1. The concept here of “getting back to normal” means so we can all play ball.

Somehow, things might never be normal for certain teams from this city again.

Not after this.

Not for the Clippers, because at a time when Donald Sterling and the basketball team that he owns must be giving at least passing consideration to the future, to relocating some or all of their home games to addresses ranging from Orange County to Burbank, can management totally disregard the memory of what life can be like in the violent vicinity of the Sports Arena, or assume that the neighborhood’s current terrifying events will never occur again?

And maybe not for the Raiders, either, because at a time when Al Davis and the football team that he owns might once again be tempted to at least glance in the direction of Sacramento, no matter what deals are signed and sealed, can management overlook what happened this week and continue to expect luxury-box buyers to invest serious money in private boxes at a combat-zoned Coliseum?

And what about the Kings or Lakers, because at a time when Bruce McNall and Jerry Buss have been wondering aloud whether to erect a new all-purpose facility on the same lot where their Forum now exists, will management continue to feel comfortable that even Inglewood remains the safest of all possible places, rather than exploring other possibilities?

This could be food for thought or it could be full-blown hysteria, brought on by the anxiety and feverish pyrexia of the last two days. That’s what days like these can do to you.

It’s always a bad time to be thinking about tomorrow when you are still trying to survive today.

I do know that Los Angeles can be a mean town, a town where you cannot even feel safe wearing a certain team’s cap. You have to know which colors to wear and to avoid, which headwear and footwear are safe, whether to wear cap bills backward or shoes unlaced, what is acceptable or unacceptable on which side of town. You have to know how to keep yourself safe and your children safe, to keep from worrying about being clubbed into a coma in the bleachers over rooting for the wrong team.

We need to feel safe at sports events, not simply here but coast to coast. And we can. And we will. Every day won’t be like this. The pain will pass. The fires will die.

And the games can help.

When a World Series was interrupted by an earthquake, I was wrong in thinking that the next day’s sports page was best left blank. Turned out that the public embraced baseball as something emotionally therapeutic, a tonic that provided needed relief, that made people feel better at a time when some of them never felt worse.

These feelings are more clear to me now. Hope. Faith. I drive to my own office, discover wooden boards on the windows, find damage everywhere, hear stories of friends being threatened and frightened. And I must act on trust, accept it on faith that it won’t be so very long before we can forget this madness and look forward to going to a game, some game, any game, without worrying about a single thing except who wins.