U.S. Open in Coronavision: I Got Nothing Right Now

This is supposed to be my last-minute U.S. Open preview post. But true-confession time: It's been hard to watch tennis and I sure as hell have not seen the draws yet. This disinterest isn't just for the obvious reasons, I'm starting to realize.
Chadwick Boseman died the other day, on top of this dumpster fire that is 2020. It's hard to watch this country tear itself from the inside because that's a better option for some than properly valuing the lives of black people. It's also hard to look away. And it makes sense to look at something else, and I thought that thing would be tennis for me. But I've not been able to watch more than five minutes of this rebooted season. Not even Venus v. Serena XXXXXVIII or whichever one this was. As I watch athletes do the work that our government won't in demanding justice and fairness, I realized why sports isn't doing it for me right now.
It's because we're asking athletes to put their safety on the line for our amusement/distraction when we know it isn't necessarily safe. It's not just that -- it's that other countries are well underway living their best post-pandemic-wave-1 lives, while so many Americans were willing to ignore facts and get mad about masks, yet many of those same people demand that these athletes come to New York and entertain them. Or suit up in Alabama for college football. No one should be in this position, and most importantly, I should be in New York enjoying my rainy day make-up ticket from last year.
That was a joke. I used to have a ton of them.
The fact is that they're there now, ready to play and I have almost no interest in tuning in. I want to try, though. This is mainly because I've finished binging Schitt's Creek. Also, theoe players are there, doing their jobs, for better or for worse, and if they're OK with it, then I guess I'll get OK with it, too.
I don't think, however, I'll be OK with this Novak Djokovic-led union for men only. Sounds ... er, promising. Just about as promising as anything involving John Isner would. (I'm including that whack-ass Wimbledon match.)