DK'S GRIND

Kovacevic: Why we’re waiting on Philly

Dejan Kovacevic
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Heinz Field, still closed. - DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS

Maybe it was the mask mandate.

More likely, it was picking up word yesterday -- still mercifully unconfirmed -- that our Original Hot Dog Shop, an Oakland and Pittsburgh institution if we've ever had one, might be forever finished overfilling our trays with fries.

But I've had it. I'm fried.

This isn't about sports, so insert the obligatory disclaimers: I'm not an epidemiologist, not an economist, not an expert on anything more than a single city's participation in silly games. If seeking something above that, I'd advise not reading past this very punctuation.

OK, still with me?

Cool. Thanks. Because I'm betting this coronavirus thing's frying all of us past our collective comfort level. Maybe it's a moment. Maybe it's a whole day. Maybe it's a gradual gut-wrench that just keeps growing.

Whatever it is, again, I'm fried.

I want my work back. I want sports back. Most of all, I want my city back. That's not some sappy civic cheerleading, as anyone who knows me can attest. Aside from family, this place is the love of my life. And this social-media accounting about the 'O' closing, which I'll repeat has yet to be reported by a single reputable outlet, ripped me up regardless.

Not for the heaping fries, or the fake cheese, or the equally cheesy setting. But because it's part of who we are.

When my daughter Dara graduated from high school last summer, the graduation ceremony was at the Petersen Events Center. She could've asked for some big fancy after-party, but nope, she wanted the four of us, our immediate family, to glide down Cardiac Hill for some 'O' fries.

Visual evidence that we did:

[caption id="attachment_979594" align="aligncenter" width="640"] Dara Kovacevic, Class of 2019. - DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS[/caption]

She'll be attending college in North Carolina, it turns out, and she wanted back then to ensure this memory would be a purely Pittsburgh one.

And then, when we got done dismantling our pile of fries -- because, you know, we ordered a 'small' -- we ran into Chris Carter at the register. Because he just happened to be there buying his own pile.

That's what we'll lose.

I got sick over Candy-Rama closing Downtown, over the Kaufmann's windows going dark, over the recent wrecking balls over on First Side. I'm weird like that, and I've long since stopped apologizing for it. And now, it's only multiplied. It's everywhere. All businesses, small and large, are going down one after the other. Nothing but ghosts on Penn, Liberty, Grant. Even the bridges are empty, maybe the creepiest sight of all.

Jobs have been lost. Lives have been jeopardized. The few people who do walk in public are wary not only of physical contact but even eye contact. We're encountering everyone as if they're the enemy. Fuses are short. Tempers flare. And before long, we're back inside, door locked, surrounded by stone silence until we turn on some fan or humidifier or anything that whips up any noise at all. After which we take our second or third nap of the day. After which we eat, eat and eat some more.

Now, masks. Can't go anywhere without a mask.

I hate it.

And honestly, I've had it.

Remember that guy?

Yeah, Mike DeWine, governor of Ohio, was the one who had that public spat with the Blue Jackets when they insisted they'd proceed with their March 12 game against the Penguins in Columbus. And naturally, the one in charge of his state's health prevailed, and there went hockey -- poof! -- right along with civilization as we knew it on this part of the planet.

A couple days ago, Gov. DeWine decided he's seen enough, that Ohioans have done a great job with social distancing and that, as of May 1, they can begin a slow, safe return to normalcy. I've read the Ohio plan. It's not rash. It's not without recourse if something goes wrong.

Oh, it's got a date, too. And it's been presented in the form of a reward for good behavior, with the caveat that the behavior needs to keep up.

OK, so where's our date?

Shortly after Gov. DeWine produced his plan, by no coincidence, his Pennsylvania counterpart, Tom Wolf, produced one of his own:

It contained a lot of the same structures, but no date. And I'm sure I know why.

Sparing everyone a sea of statistics, Ohio and Western Pennsylvania are essentially one and the same when it comes to how we've handled coronavirus. Same infection rate, hospitalization rate, fatality rate, you name it. Actually, the Pittsburgh region alone has weathered the virus better than any of Ohio's three major cities: Columbus, Cleveland and Cincinnati.

Take one guess which major city in this equation hasn't:

[caption id="attachment_979592" align="aligncenter" width="640"] PA. DEPT. OF HEALTH[/caption]

That purple line way up there atop that graphic represents southeastern Pennsylvania. The green line way down near the bottom is us.

Sure, Philadelphia's got more people. But Philly's deeper figures are no better toward flattening the curve, regardless of population and, in fact, they've been singled out by federal officials for precisely that, challenged to do better. (To which they predictably got really mad.)

It's safe to assume, then, that Gov. Wolf's pretext for dodging a date similar to that put forth by Ohio and other states is that he's stuck having Philly on his hands. And judging from the voluminous responses sent his way on social media delineating exactly that scenario, it's a pretty common perception. And again, the correct one.

What should he do?

To start, go county by county and, within that, favor those in the western half simply because we've basically built a wall through the middle:

[caption id="attachment_979593" align="aligncenter" width="640"] PA. DEPT. OF HEALTH[/caption]

The code is what you'd think: Blue is best, yellow is second-best, and purple's really bad.

How bad?

Try the fourth-ugliest curve of any city in America:

[caption id="attachment_979595" align="aligncenter" width="640"] THE NEW YORK TIMES[/caption]

Only New York, Detroit and Chicago have been worse in managing this crisis. Philly's density doesn't help, nor does being somewhat close to New York. But there are a ton of dense cities that've fared far better than doubling cases every 11 days.

In Pittsburgh, we're now at a pace of doubling every three weeks.

That's because we locked down as early and as diligently as any city in this part of the nation, and we've followed through in an equally big way, with the data to back it up: Allegheny County's got a population of 1.3 million, and we've had only 178 people hospitalized, only 66 admitted to intensive care and -- I'd never use 'only' with the next one -- 47 deaths.

Of those 47 deaths, all but seven were 70 and older, six were 60 and older, and no one was younger than 50. Also out of those 47 deaths, an incredible 34 originated in nursing homes. And almost all of these deaths, if we follow international patterns, would've had one or more preexisting medical conditions.

That paragraph isn't written lightly. Every life is precious, and our elders are no exception. My mom's 74, and I worry about her endlessly.

Rather, it's that the more we know about this virus, the more manageable it becomes without having to lock all doors and throw away all keys. If we know it affects the elderly disproportionately, then we can focus on greater precautions with that age group. If we know that it's savaged senior residences, then we can go aggressively about improving those conditions.

Imagine the impact on all those aforementioned rates if we just took those two steps.

From there, imagine everyone else ... not getting back to normal but getting to work in whatever constitutes the new normal. As we're already seeing in Asian and European countries that've passed their coronavirus peaks, people have reemerged without shaking hands, while still staying apart as much as possible, while cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. If it takes masks and gloves, it takes masks and gloves.

Bear in mind: The shutdown was aimed at flattening the curve principally by keeping our hospital system from being overwhelmed. The only city where the system's been overwhelmed was New York. The virus hit there too fast, too hard and with too little help for too many people. But there's currently no other city lining up like that and, ideally, it'll stay that way.

It won't be easy. According to criteria just published by Dr. Thomas R. Frieden, former director of the CDC, any full reopening requires "declining cases for 14 days, the tracing of 90 percent of contacts, an end to health-care worker infections, recuperation places for mild cases" and other goals. If that sounds ambitious, that's because it is. Pittsburgh, for example, has seen 19 days of up-and-down decline since a March 30 peak of 77 new cases. The past week saw roughly 25 cases each day.

It doesn't all need to be pristine to begin coming back, though. Every expert will agree on that. It needs to be, to use the term again, manageable.

John Fetterman, Gov. Wolf's lieutenant, clearly read a lot of the Pittsburgh-based fire aimed at his boss yesterday, and he responded at one point with this:

Dude gets it. He was the mayor of Braddock, for crying out loud, and he'd grasp maybe better than anyone in Harrisburg that economic pain is real pain.

Here's hoping he's right.

Look, I appreciate that a large chunk of those reading this will disagree with the broader tone. Some will do so based on fear. Some will do so based on a current culture doesn't allow for dialogue except in extremes. Some will do so because of -- ugh -- party-vs.-party politics, as if that crap should matter at all now.

But some will bite back with bona fide rebuttals, and I'll appreciate those, too. There are tons to be made.

Bottom line: As Pittsburghers, we've already shown we've got the passion, the discipline, the common sense of community to do what's right. If we succeed in that for another couple weeks -- which we will -- then just allow us to show everyone how it's done when living our real lives.

Tell Philly to watch and learn. In the sporting sense, while pulling for them with brotherly love, it won't be the first time they've heard that from this direction.

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