No way (to go) out

We are officially a red state, here in Indiana. And, no, that is not the water-is-wet statement you think it is.

To be sure, we vote Republican the way we brush our teeth or wash behind our ears, reflexively, because that's just what you do in Indiana. We're as reliable as sunrise in the east and tornadoes in springtime in that regard.

That's not the red I'm talking about  here, however.

The red I'm talking about has to do with the Bastard Plague, which has made one hell of a comeback in the Hoosier state in case you haven't noticed. We're now a Covid-19 red state, which means Ohio and Illinois won't let any of us in without a mandatory quarantine. Cases and deaths are spiking like '90s hair again, while our governor insists everything's cool and we can keep the state wide open as long as we all cooperate and follow the rules.

And if a frog had wings, it wouldn't whump its ass every time he jumped, either. 

In any case, the hospitals are filling up with Plague cases again, and. predictably, so are our schools. Which bring us to a small 1A school down near Wabash.

That school is Southwood, and they've got a whale of a football season going. Or had.

The Knights are 9-0 and ranked third in the state in 1A, and they were looking forward to a deep run in the playoffs that begin tomorrow night. Their closest game was their season opener, a 29-26 squeaker over 3A Knox. Since then no one's come within 19 points of them.

And now no one will, because of the Bastard Plague.

Along with Peru, see, a Covid-19 outbreak has forced the Knights to end their season prematurely. They've had to forfeit their sectional opener, which means their season is over. Which of course is just a damn shame.

Closing out your season with a playoff loss is painful enough. There are few scenes that evoke more melancholy than a locker room the morning after a playoff loss, with everyone cleaning out their lockers and turning in their equipment. It's the end of fall and Friday nights thick with the smell of sweat and cooling earth and dew-slick grass, and the beginning of cold gray winter.

Now multiply that tenfold when it happens the way it's happened at Southwood and Peru.

One minute you're looking forward to the real meat of your autumn; the next, it's over before it even begins, leaving so much unresolved. And all the rest of us can hope for is that it doesn't end this way for anyone else.

Wear the damn mask, for God's sake. Stay away from crowded places. Let the frog grow those wings.