I try each week to find a humorous angle to the wonderfully wacky world of sports.

When a reader tells me they got a “chuckle” out of this column or something else I wrote it brings a smile to my inner dude.

So it has been with much internal debate, between me and myself, that I feel a need to address the stunning and tragic collapse of Buffalo Bills defensive back Damar Hamlin on live TV this past week.

As a guy who worked 40-plus years in radiology aspects of hospitals throughout the Northwest, mostly ones with large Emergency Departments, it was indeed stunning to see Hamlin stand up after a hit to the chest area, then go completely limp and fall to the ground.

The immediate thought I had was a massive coronary event or major stroke given the way he collapsed.

I’m sure it was a hard thing for anyone watching to have observed. Hamlin is among the elitist of the elite in terms of athletic ability. These things are not supposed to happen to such physically finely tuned human beings.

You could almost feel the Monday night TV audience grow numb as medical personnel worked to revive the fallen player. His teammates gathered around, many in tears, as they stood or knelt in somber silence.

Then the ambulance came and everyone knew this was not a routine medical occurrence, and in fact it was later diagnosed as a commotio cordis, a heart rhythm interrupting situation that can be caused by even a mild or low-impact blow to the chest at a precise time in the heart rhythm.

Had Hamlin not been immediately attended to, this condition most likely would have been fatal.

Prayers and fast-thinking medical personnel managed to restore his heart beat and get him to a top-class medical center near the stadium in Cincinnati.

Throughout the rest of the evening, sports broadcasters and others weighed in on the severity of the situation, several of them bowing their heads in prayer on live TV.

By the end of the week, this strong and courageous young man had regained consciousness, and appears to be on the path to a full recovery.

Sports, sadly, can be dangerous.

All hats are off to Hamlin, the first responders and others who helped turn a potentially tragic outcome into positive news.

What bothers me about all this, and I say it with all due respect to all involved, is the statements that were made in the initial moments of the incident about how hard it was for these young men who play the game to witness such an occurrence.

It was, some said, unimaginable to see how these athletes could go on.

I’m sure no one who said this had any thoughts of anything but hoping Hamlin would survive.

But in an era where sports athletes are often compared to heroes who “go to war, fight the tough battles out there” and other such statements, I have to interject that there are many out there from every corner of this country, who can imagine what it is like.

There are thousands, if not millions of real “warriors” who have been on real “battlefields”, many of whom were still teenagers, and witnessed far worse.

Imagine being 18, freshly deployed to the jungles of Vietnam or the deserts of the Middle East and seeing your buddy, who you just shared a cigarette with, vaporize in an explosion or watch as he collapses to the ground with horrific wounds that have removed parts of his body.

These young men could not call off the “game” and take time for grief. They had to continue on despite the carnage and death they had just seen.

Please don’t take this wrong. I understand the shock and pain the players experienced at watching a fellow player collapse helplessly to the stadium turf.

Pain and sorrow is pain and sorrow.

But out of this incident, I hope more people, athletes included, will refrain from referring to sports-related efforts as “going to battle”. Scoring touchdowns or baskets does not, in my opinion, make one a hero.

My thoughts and prayers will continue to be with Hamlin and his family, friends and teammates.

I will also strive to be more aware of the toll real battles and the death they breed will be taken into consideration by more people.