THE SoFi LIE PROVES IT: ALL SPECTATORS MUST BE VACCINATED
Big Sports should require jabs to enter stadiums, but it instead ignores the Delta variant, inviting frightful scenes such as that in Los Angeles: thousands of maskless fans defying a county mandate
My vantage point is Section 132, Row 10, Seat 4. I’m within a Trey Lance dance of the visitors’ sideline inside SoFi Stadium, a football showplace so outerworldly that Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos needn’t waste fortunes on megalomaniacal space travel — they can just visit an architectural miracle amid the bulldozers and fast-food joints of Inglewood, Calif. This should be the first venue in my sporting life that makes me bow, fall to my knees and speak in tongues.
But I can’t right now. A man in the next row is sneezing and not wearing a mask, as required by Los Angeles County for large outdoor events of more than 10,000 people. When I lean down and ask if he’s vaccinated, he ignores me. In fact, as the opening kickoff nears, most ticket-holders aren’t masked as they walk through the gleaming corridors and arrive at their seats.
This is in abject defiance of a new county mandate, effective last Friday, requiring fans to “wear face masks at all times, except when actively eating or drinking … the limited time during which the mask can be removed briefly to eat or drink, after which it must be immediately put back on.’’ It’s also not compliant with the stadium’s Oculus video board, all 70,000 square feet and 2.4 million pounds of it, which flashes “MASK UP’’ messages as the public-address announcer futilely asks for adherence.
And who is supposed to be enforcing this — cough, hack, wheeze, call the doctor — mask mandate? Not the ushers inside the $6 billion edifice built by Rams owner Stan Kroenke and leased by Chargers owner Dean Spanos, both of whom are prioritizing game-day revenues and won’t be chasing away precious season-ticket subscribers over masks. Wondering if ANYONE remotely cares about the still-raging coronavirus and Delta variant, I ask a security guard, who directs me to somebody in a Google customer relations shirt, who directs me to Guest Services in the VIP section, which directs me to Guest Services up various escalators to the sixth level, which directs me to a ticket office outside the stadium, where I’m handed a scribbled post-it to call 1-877-CHARGERS or write an e-mail to @chargers.info.com. Along the way, I ask two L.A. County sheriff’s deputies why thousands of human beings are flouting the edict.
“It’s the country we live in,’’ says one, his eyes peeled on a Chargers backup quarterback. “You gonna get into a fight over a mask?’’
His partner isn’t wearing a mask, either. I look up at the translucent roof canopy, and while air flows through it, a thought occurs: Is SoFi, contrary to official classification, actually an indoor building that further heightens risks?
Thus, I am pretty much distracted from watching this preseason game, between YOUR LOS ANGELES CHARGERS and the San Francisco 49ers, in a plush, 40-yard-line chair that will cost $1,000 on the secondary market when the regular season starts. The behavior of the SoFi maskholes is maddening — no, frightening and sickening. Yet it’s the established brainless norm now in stadiums and arenas throughout America, impacting millions of attendees as long as Big Sports continues hosting spectators without the most critical communal health requirement of our lives:
All fans must be vaccinated to enter.
Otherwise, a sports event won’t involve two teams as much as a war in the stands that no one can win — the vaccinated vs. the anti-vaxxers — a continuing series of superspreader monstrosities that only will contribute to prolonging our pandemic nightmare.
If the pro leagues, college conferences and broadcasting networks have heard of the new variants, they’re pretending not to know when it comes to live attendance. Unlike last year, when the mood was more conscientious and spectator capacity was monitored closely, the doors are whipped wide open in the name of greed and recouping lost billions — such as the NFL’s $4 billion. The cattle call runs counterintuitive to epidemiology experts alarmed by Delta’s higher threat of contagion, particularly at gatherings attracting tens of thousands outdoors and indoors. But the money grab clearly has circumvented health concerns well into sport’s second COVID-19 year, and so far, with the NFL season underway, only the Las Vegas Raiders and New Orleans Saints are demanding proof of vaccination for admittance. And only the Saints have doubled down to require masks.
“We are committed to doing everything we can in the current environment to protect your health and safety while at the same time providing the best game day experience in the NFL,” the Saints said in a statement to fans. “We understand some will be frustrated, as are we, that we find ourselves in this position.”
Now that precedents have been established — in college football, Oregon, Oregon State and Tulane are requiring vaccinations and negative tests while Hawaii is closing its facility to fans entirely — it would seem easy enough for all others to follow in lockstep. Whether stadiums are inside or outside isn’t the issue when spectators who aren’t vaccinated are anathema to those who are. Social distancing should be gospel again, but try selling that to anyone sitting near me at SoFi, where anti-vaxxers could have sent me to the hospital though I’m fully vaccinated (and waiting impatiently for the Pfizer booster). That was for a preseason yawner. Wait until 70,000, most ignoring the mask edict, are packed together for Rams vs. Chicago in the first Sunday night game. Wait until 68,000 jam Raymond James Stadium, in COVID-ignorant Florida, for Tom Brady vs. Dallas in the season opener two weeks from Thursday. Wait until the huge college games that start soon in the Deep South, which still views the coronavirus as the flu. If you feel like falling ill and spending a month in intensive care, do I have an idea for you: Georgia vs. Clemson in Charlotte, where 76,000 are expected from two states where less than 43 percent of the population is fully vaccinated.
Of the shots, Clemson coach Dabo Swinney said, “It’s not something we can make them do.’’
Oh, yes it is. There’s no reason all local health departments can’t follow New Orleans, all sports owners can’t demand jabs like the Raiders’ Mark Davis and all college programs can’t protect vaccine-phobic kids on petri-dish campuses. But you know why it isn’t happening.
“Money,’’ as Pink Floyd said.
“Money, money, money — MON-ey,’’ as the O’Jays said.
“I want it all,’’ as Freddie Mercury said, “and I want it now.’’
Sports is ignorant that way. Sports is arrogant and cavalier that way. Having established that seasons can be staged and champions crowned in Bubbles that effectively serve as TV studios, the leagues and conferences could suck it up one more year and do their part to slow variants. But if the SoFi Lie is an indication, the owners and university presidents don’t care. They didn’t get all their money last year, so they want it all back this year.
Never mind that Garth Brooks, Stevie Nicks and Limp Bizkit are among artists who recently canceled tour dates, with Brooks explaining, “In July, I sincerely thought the pandemic was falling behind us. Now, watching this new wave, I realize we are still in the fight and I must do my part.” Think about it. Limp Bizkit, led by doofus frontman Fred Durst, is responsible enough to acknowledge rising infection rates — and commissioners such as the NFL’s Roger Goodell and Major League Baseball’s Rob Manfred are not?
Of course, the NFL has no problem playing hardball with players and coaches, making sure the TV and gambling money rolls in smoothly without game disruptions. Goodell and the owners aren’t pushing vaccine mandates, but they are taking harsh restrictive measures via protocols and threats — a team could forfeit a game, for instance, if unvaccinated players cause outbreaks that severely deplete a roster. The strategy has worked: The league says more than 92 percent of players are fully vaccinated, meaning some anti-vaxxers are succumbing to the jabs.
“The NFL has kind of made it clear what they want to happen. If you don’t fall in line, they’re going to try and make your life miserable with all the protocols,” said Tennessee Titans quarterback Ryan Tannehill, whose head coach, Mike Vrabel, tested positive over the weekend. “I wouldn’t have gotten the vaccine without the protocols that they are enforcing on us.”
In a workplace context, the NFL has become what America desperately needs — a pro-vaccine force. But when it comes to mandating vaccines for fans, the leagues are playing dumb in the name of greed. The seat in Section 132, Row 10 went empty for the final three quarters Sunday.
If I die, I certainly don’t want the Los Angeles Chargers killing me.
Jay Mariotti, called “the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes sports columns for Substack and a Wednesday media column for Barrett Sports Media while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts in production today. He’s an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and radio talk host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects. Compensation for this column is donated to the Chicago Sun-Times Charity Trust.