I’ve been struggling all day to find the right way to express my feelings and thoughts about Damar Hamlin, the 24-year old Buffalo Bills safety who suffered a cardiac arrest during Monday nights game against the Cincinnati Bengals.
I watched the tackle.
I watched Hamlin get up, then watched him fall to the turf two seconds later.
I watched ESPN’s coverage Monday Night Football for several hours last night with one hope: To hear good news before I went to bed.
I was less interested in the NFL’s decision to call off the game…the only logical and human decision…or how the announcers would handle this unexpected and horrific on-field event…and I couldn’t care less about the NFL’s public relations.
I didn’t get the news I was hoping for and neither did the World, but today I woke up encouraged.
Damar Hamlin is still alive.
Damar Hamlin’s family is with him in CIncinnati.
Damar Hamlin’s Foundation – with a $2,500 toy drive fund raising goal – has had donations exceeding $5-million dollars. Two individuals donated $3,333.
Hamlin wears number-3 for the Bills.
Damar Hamlin’s life is in the hands of medical professionals in Cincinnati, and pending your belief system, a higher power.
As for the game? Who cares about the game. The NFL will make up its mind and people will be angry.
This isn’t about the game, this is about a young man fighting for his life with a World of supporters following, and praying for good news.
