The Power of Empathy In Sports, and Why We Need More of It

Five years ago today, Isaiah Thomas' sister Chyna Thomas died in a tragic car accident that shook the NBA family and media. Empathy isn't what it used to be, which we saw after Dwayne Haskins' death.

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If you’re an NBA fan and your team is pretty good, you’re probably thinking about the playoffs right now.

This is when the best ballers step up and shine under the bright lights, while others not up to the challenge will shrink into the shadows of basketball purgatory.

But as much as I would love to rattle off all the reasons why the Boston Celtics have NO REASON to fear the Brooklyn Nets, or why the defending NBA champion Milwaukee Bucks may have a tougher time with the Chicago Bulls than expected, that’s not where my head is at right now.

I wish I was thinking about the playoffs presently, but my mind can’t help but shake the thoughts of the playoff past; specifically five years ago on this day.

That is the day when former Celtic Isaiah Thomas endured the kind of unthinkable pain you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

His younger sister, 22-year-old Chyna Thomas, died in a one-car accident in Federal Way, Washington.

She was pronounced dead at the scene.

Isaiah Thomas (4), being comforted by fellow Tacoma, Washington native Avery Bradley.

Her death led to a long, cascading range of emotions, all derived from pain and loss and the helpless feeling when a loved one passes.

And I’m not just talking about Thomas, either.

Teammates.

Other players throughout the league.

Media.

Fans.

Among the first to chime in was NBA commissioner Adam Silver.

We were all hurting for Thomas, a player Boston acquired from Phoenix just minutes prior to the 2015 trade deadline window closing.

Danny Ainge, then-President of Basketball Operations for the Boston Celtics (he’s now a consultant with the Utah Jazz), acquired Thomas to provide a spark off the Celtics bench.

But as we all soon found out, Thomas was more than just a high-energy backup.

He was a scoring machine, diminutive in stature at 5-foot-9 but a giant when it came to scoring the ball.

During his first full season in Boston, Thomas averaged 22.9 points and ws named to his first All-Star team. He was even better the following year, averaging a career-best 28.9 points while finishing the 2016-2017 season fifth in the league’s MVP voting.

More than the scoring, Thomas scored points with anyone that came across him and that megawatt smile of his that seems to always be lit.

I think back to that time not just because today is the five-year anniversary of Chyna Thomas’ death.

My memories of that time were, more than anything else, filled with the kind of empathy that tossed all those journalistic principles about not getting too close to sources or people you cover, to the wind.

Yes, Isaiah Thomas was a basketball player for the Boston Celtics.

But he was also a man; a son, and a brother who was enduring the kind of pain that at that time, made the Celtics’ postseason plans irrelevant for many of us.

There was no way to be around Thomas or know his journey from being the last player selected in the 2011 draft, and not feel a lump or two in your throat talking to him at that time.

What he was dealing with and how all those around him - fans, other players and the media - rallied to support him, I frankly took for granted.

Because in my mind, when a player dies or a close family member dies, the one thing you should be able to count from all those groups - but especially the media who gets to see a side of these athletes that goes beyond points, rebounds and assists - is empathy.

And that’s the one thing there seems to be a shortage of these days when it comes to athletes and death, something we saw play out recently after the untimely death of NFL quarterback Dwayne Haskins and the callous way his death was initially reported by ESPN’s Adam Schefter.

The first report on his death made a point, of pointing out him “struggling to catch on with Washington and Pittsburgh in the NFL,” (never mind the records he set at Ohio State which in some instances still stand, or the No. 3 finish in the Heisman Trophy voting that year or even that he was a first-round pick in the NFL draft), apparently those struggles were so important to point out upon his death, that they needed to be pointed out before acknowledging he died.

And let’s not forget the comments made by Gil Brandt less than 24 hours after Haskins was hit and killed by a dump truck on a Florida Highway, among them being that Haskins was, “living to be dead.”

Brandt later issued an apology while Schefter deleted the Tweet and later apologized on his podcast.

Both men showed a complete lack of empathy. Because with empathy, the focus would have been more on the totality of this man’s life and not the most unfavorable snapshot available. It’s one thing to mention his struggles as an NFL quarterback, but to lead with it just hours after he died?

Indeed, times have changed on so many levels when you talk about athletes, media and empathy.

But don’t get it twisted.

We’re not talking about the media feeling bad for a player who goes 4-for-22 shooting from the field or has a really bad quarterback rating.

They don’t get empathy for that.

But when the matter at hand is something as definitively painful as death, empathy shouldn’t be a goal to shoot for.

It should be an expectation from us all.