Bushfires remind us of sport's great paradox

There’s nothing quite like a national disaster to illustrate how little our sporting concerns matter.

As I write this, a fire alarm is ringing somewhere in my suburb – it has been for quite some time – and the wail of sirens has been a constant for weeks.

Of course, in suburban Newcastle, I’m one of the lucky ones. At time of writing, NSW has seen 1.6 million hectares of land burnt, a 6000-kilometre fire edge is still raging, and four people have lost their lives.

Compared to that, the outcome of the Australia versus Pakistan Test series is completely inconsequential.

But I – and millions of people across the country – am bloody glad the cricket’s on our screens.

Because while it doesn’t matter at all compared to the awful blazes decimating the east coast, it’s times like these when sport can come to the fore.

(Ryan Pierse/Getty Images)

It takes me back to October 2, 2005.

It’s a date Wests Tigers fans likely regard as one of the best of their lives. Led by inspirational skipper Scott Prince and human highlight-reel Benji Marshall, the joint venture secured their first-ever premiership with a 30-16 win over the North Queensland Cowboys.

Personally, it was among the worst days of my life.

Not 24 hours earlier, suicide bombers made coordinated attacks at three locations in Bali, murdering 20 innocent people.

Eating dinner with a large group of friends on Jimbaran Beach, I heard the first bomb go off further down the beach, then a few seconds later, was knocked to the ground by the shock wave of the second blast.

Ears ringing, legs stinging from sandblast and sinuses filled with pungent gunpowder, I picked myself up and sprinted into the safety of the waves.

And there, I assessed myself to discover I was pretty well fine. So, I figured, the rest of my group must have been okay too.

The following day I went to Sanglah General Hospital and discovered how wrong that assumption was. Friends had suffered savage, life-changing injuries, while Jennifer Williamson, Colin and Fiona Zwolinski had all lost their lives.

Returning to the hotel that afternoon, the footy was on. And I did not give the slightest toss about the outcome.

But I nursed a beer and watched with a few others. The game provided much-needed distraction and mental escape from the terrifying hell into which we had been thrust.

The grand final could not have mattered less that day, yet it was simultaneously invaluable.

While any level of escapism can offer relief, sport offers a different twist to, say, a movie. Because sport is watched actively.

You don’t sit in silence and soak it in – you yell at the screen, compare notes with fellow spectators on the action, and can even engage in overt displays of affection with people from whom you would otherwise maintain a respectful distance.

(Photo by Scott Barbour/Getty Images)

Perhaps best of all for someone who is suffering – particularly for the Aussie male, notorious for being the strong, silent type (and I can’t emphasise this enough, I’m from the weak, loud school) – it offers an opportunity to delve into feelings and emotions, safe in the knowledge that distraction is never far away should one decide things are becoming a bit too real and they don’t want to share anymore.

As for friends attempting to offer something worthwhile at a time when you can feel completely impotent in the face of unbelievable tragedy, sport allows you to do among the most important things of all: be there. Comforting words tend to seem inadequate, but sitting with a mate, sharing a meaningful chat or just laughing over something that is totally removed from a horrible reality can mean the world.

And sport facilitates it better than just about anything else.

Basking in television’s warm, glowing, warming glow, you can have a totally real discussion about matters of weight and substance, natter mindlessly about the action on-screen, or sit in silence and enjoy watching elite athletes do what they do best.

I’m sure there are other examples, but for me, sport is the ultimate tool in times of distress.

When it matters the least, sport demonstrates just how important it can be.