A promising young football player at Florida State shot while giving his aunt a ride home.
A nation shaken by a targeted assassination of a young, charismatic political activist.
Children at a Catholic school in Minneapolis, caught in a barrage of bullets while praying during Mass.
Black, white, young, old, conservative, liberal — these attacks remind us that in this country, no one is immune. These are not isolated incidents. They are part of an epidemic, a tragic testament that in the United States, no one is truly safe from the shadow of gun violence.
Sorry, but this is not my typical sports column. Normally, I’d be writing about a big game or a controversial coaching decision, but today I can’t. I’m mad and I’m sad, and you should be, too.
Here in Central Florida, we pray for Ethan Pritchard, a local kid who starred at Sanford Seminole High School and signed to play at FSU. It was supposed to be a joyous night for him two weeks ago. His Seminoles had just upset Alabama and he was doing the kind of thing most of us have done: dropping off family — his aunt and his 3-year-old cousin — after a gathering. Then, in one shattering moment, gunfire. He was shot in the back of the head.
The freshman linebacker, with so much promise and so much future, still lies in critical condition in a Tallahassee hospital. Four people have been arrested in connection with the shooting. Authorities believe it was a case of mistaken identity.
At the same time, the country reels from another loss: Conservative activist Charlie Kirk was fatally shot earlier this week. A public figure — politically polarizing, revered by some, reviled by others — his death another grim reminder of a nation politically divided.
Meanwhile, we have lost track of all the school shootings, church shootings, grocery store shootings. They have become so frequent that each one barely registers before the next one hits.
This is crazy.
Inside our homes, our cars, our schools, our houses of worship, we all are in danger.
Orlando’s Bert Whigham, Ethan Pritchard’s manager and trainer, told me earlier this week he is now pricing out bulletproof vehicles for young athletes under his guidance. That should feel unthinkable in America.
“Ethan is a kid with unlimited potential; just a freak athlete with NFL written all over him,” Whigham says. “He has the discipline to put in the work to play at the highest level. He doesn’t play video games; he doesn’t hang out. He does all the right things. And then this happens.”
He pauses.
“It’s so damn depressing. I just don’t get it. Who would have thought I would be trying to figure out what the cost is to bullet-proof cars to protect our athletes? That’s not something I ever anticipated happening in America.”
Of course, it’s not just athletes; it’s everybody.
The horrifying randomness of Pritchard’s shooting mirrors recent tragedies across the country. Four days before Pritchard was shot, a gunman armed with multiple weapons opened fire on children at the Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis, killing two and wounding 17 more as they prayed during a school-wide Mass. Police described the scene as “absolutely incomprehensible.” Yet incomprehensible as it may seem, isn’t it becoming way too comprehensible?
People pray at a memorial at Annunciation Catholic Church In Minneapolis after a school shooting there on Aug. 27. (AP Photo/Abbie Parr)
And it’s not just random shootings and school shootings. Political shootings are rising, too. Kirk was gunned down earlier this week at Utah Valley University, prompting Utah Governor Spencer Cox to state the obvious.
“Our nation is broken,” Cox said, listing attacks on Democrats and Republicans alike. “… Is this it?” Is this what 250 years has wrought on us?”
Kirk’s killing, the shooting of lawmakers and activists, and multiple assassination attempts on public figures, including President Trump, paint a sobering picture of a nation in which no one is insulated from danger.
Charlie Kirk speaks during a town hall meeting in Wisconsin earlier this year. (AP Photo/Jeffrey Phelps, File)
We call ourselves the greatest country on earth. If that’s the case, then why do we have a firearm homicide rate that is 26 times higher than in other developed countries? This isn’t about our politics; it’s about our humanity.
Florida State coach Mike Norvell has watched Ethan Pritchard grow from a talented high school player into a collegiate athlete full of energy and passion. “To know that right now that’s taken away from him in a senseless act … you don’t always know why you have to go through things like this in life.”
In last week’s game against East Texas A&M, Florida State defensive back Earl Little Jr. (0) holds the jersey of linebacker Ethan Pritchard (35), who was shot two weeks ago and is still in critical condition in a Tallahassee hospital. (AP Photo/Colin Hackley)
Earl Pritchard, Ethan’s father, attended Florida State’s recent game against East Texas A&M, standing in the locker room and on the sideline for a son who lies unconscious in a hospital.
“I know where my boy wants to be, so I’m going to go stand in his place for him,” he told Norvell.
Sadly, we all could be lying in Ethan Pritchard’s place today because his story is a microcosm of what ails our nation. A good kid with a bright future ambushed in an apparent case of mistaken identity. A family and a team left reeling. A country left wondering: Can we protect our own?
From school children hiding under desks to political activists gunned down in the streets, from neighborhoods terrorized by stray bullets to athletes whose managers now consider armored vehicles, the United States has become a nation under attack.
Isn’t it time to recognize that gun violence is not a partisan issue, a regional issue, or a social issue — it is an American issue?
Ethan Pritchard lies in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. Families in Minneapolis bury children, and the nation mourns Charlie Kirk.
And those are just the shootings that make the headlines.
What about the tens of thousands of others every year who are victims of gun violence? Their lives are just as important, but their absence is felt only by an empty seat at the dinner table.
On this week when we commemorated the 24-year anniversary of 9-11 — when we remember how America once rallied against a known enemy — it is worth pausing to reflect, looking in the mirror and asking ourselves a question:
Osama bin Laden was the face of evil we once knew. Today, in this divided, violent country, have we become our own deadliest enemy?
Email me at mbianchi@orlandosentinel.com. Hit me up on social media @BianchiWrites and listen to my new radio show “Game On” every weekday from 3 to 6 p.m. on FM 96.9, AM 740 and 969TheGame.com/listen
