NFL, players and all who love football grapple with the game after Damar Hamlin's collapse

The year was 1990, the first week of March, with the NCAA men's basketball tournament and sports bliss on the horizon.

Then tragedy struck and something incomprehensible happened. Hank Gathers, star of the Loyola Marymount team that made basketball look like art, collapsed on the court during the conference tournament and died.

I was a high school senior and basketball junkie. I remember watching replays of that moment on TV — Gathers lying on the court in distress, the arena silent. I cried that day because something so tragic and frightening isn't a common occurrence in sports. The shock left me numb and speechless.

Those same feelings hit Monday night when Buffalo Bills defensive back Damar Hamlin collapsed and required CPR on the field after suffering cardiac arrest. I felt numb and speechless again.

This is a sport known for physical punishment, but the anguish on the faces of players and coaches standing just steps away as medical personnel performed life-saving measures told us this was not a torn ACL or a collision that left a player concussed. There was no thumbs-up signal to let fans know he was OK as a cart left the stadium.

A 24-year-old man nearly died on the field after making a tackle.

This does not fall under the NFL code of "next man up." The league is shaken to its core. You can see it in the reactions and hear it in players' voices.

Hamlin remains sedated in critical condition, though thankfully reports indicate he's showing improvement. The outpouring of emotion and support and prayers offered has been heartening and instructive in understanding the effect this will have on the entire league.

"We compete like hell when we're out there against each other," Vikings defensive tackle Harrison Phillips said Wednesday. "But that is a brother when I look across the line of scrimmage."

Phillips was a teammate of Hamlin's in Buffalo last season. They sat near each other in the locker room. The personal connection amplifies different emotions that Phillips is feeling, but the shared risk of the profession creates a brotherhood among players, a big family that now is hurting and deep in self-reflection.

"I'm sure every single significant other of a player has said to that player, 'This could have been you,'" Phillips said.

That's an uncomfortable reality to confront.

There is anxiety in every locker room this week. That's why teams across the league are providing services to help players cope with what they witnessed Monday night.

Because, as crass as this sounds, the machine will move on. Players returned to team headquarters on Wednesday to begin preparation for the regular-season finale. Playoffs start next week.

Maybe routine will bring some sense of normalcy, but nobody will be able to move forward completely without assurances that Hamlin is going to be OK.

Sports so often become a diversion in times of crisis. In this case, it's the sport itself that must confront something traumatic. What will that look like once games resume?

I've wrestled with this since Monday night: I've loved football for as long as I can remember, as a fan and someone who makes a living writing about it. I love it and celebrate it and promote its best qualities, knowing the sport damages players' bodies and brains for our entertainment. Is this a case of being hypocritical or callous? It is a complicated conversation.