I have received a number of emails and phone calls from the editor of this magazine asking me for my column. I wrote one last night that I planned to edit today. You might see that one next month.
But tonight I sit in shock. You see, today the world turned upside down. Today, two planes – two planes filled with passengers – flew into the World Trade Center and brought them down. In addition, of course, are two other plane crashes: one at the Pentagon and one in a field in Pennsylvania.
It is overwhelming for me to think about the potential loss of life. Right now, no one will give an estimate of the number of people who have died. It is undoubtedly more than is comprehensible. So, I can’t think about it. Somehow, I have to do the inconceivable and personalize a tragedy that is so much larger than me.
So, I sit here think instead about the buildings. I am realizing that I was more attached to the World Trade Centers than I had ever imagined. I remember being six years old when the construction had just started. I remember my mother driving around that area and stopping to hold me up to look through the spyholes in the construction walls to look at the enormous gap in the earth that was dug to form the base. I remember watching as the buildings went up. I remember asking my mom why they never seemed to be the same height. I remember the first time I went to the top, and I remember being in awe of the buildings.
They were new, they gleamed, and I fell in love with them. For years, I told people when they came to NYC that they should see the WTC rather than the Empire State Building. For the past five years that I have been living in my apartment, they were there every night when I got home. I have a spectacular view outside my apartment, and they dominated that view. They have been part of my NY skyline since I was eight years old.
Every squash player spends a significant part of his training in solitude. When I was working to become fit enough to compete at a national level, I spent an enormous amount of time running up one hill in Brooklyn Heights. At the top of the hill was a view of the NY skyline as great as any in the world. I remember running my hill sprints night after night while I trained to become the best squash player that I could. And as painful as those workouts were, I remember the satisfaction of looking at the skyline while I put another workout in the bank. Perhaps it will sound odd, but I looked at that skyline as my training partner. It is hard to believe that that is all over.
But then there are the people. You have to return to the people. As I watched television today, I was stunned that so many who were so high up in the Trade Centers actually got out to safety. I am thankful that so many kept their cool. But I also am thinking now about people clinging to life in the rubble, hoping against hope that someone can save them. That is happening right now. I wonder how I can sleep tonight while these people are within a mile of me and I can't do anything for them. It horrifies me.
And yet, there are people who are doing things. There are people who are searching through the rubble, there are people who are treating survivors, there are people who are giving blood, there are people who are organizing relief efforts. And then there are those who ran down to the Trade Centers and tried to help after the planes crashed into the buildings. When the buildings came down, many of these people who were trying only to help, were killed. We talk about sports heroes, but many of these people trained just as hard and for just as long as we do as athletes, and instead of trying to dominate an opponent, they tried to save people’s lives.
What an honorable counterpoint to a group of people I can not comprehend. I shudder to think about terrorists who are celebrating the fact that their plans came off so well. They are ecstatic that they brought down this symbol of the US. They think this is a game. None of them likely ever were athletes. And because of that, they don’t get it. I hate them.
And yet, I hope that Americans don't want to celebrate when we kill them. Which, inevitably, we will. What a terrible species are we that we get pleasure out of ending each other's lives. How unbelievable. How unreal. What a terrible day.
