With the future still looking so uncertain, it is only natural that the mind is cast backwards.
After sport abruptly disappeared from our screens 11 weekends ago, many have filled the void reliving clashes of the past with broadcasters only too willing to indulge.
In most cases, the games, the goals, the moments have certainly been dimmed somewhat by time, the occasion evidently more than the sum of on-field action when it comes to the unforgettable scenes of yesteryear.
Standing out from the evidently mis-remembered sepia has been the technicolour splash of 'The Last Dance', a 10-part docuseries on Michael Jordan's final Chicago Bulls season produced by ESPN Films and Netflix.
In the history of the NBA, no player ever produced more game-winning buzzer-beaters than MJ and, 17 years into his third and final retirement, His Airness has evidently lost none of his timing.
Originally slated to air next month, the production was brought forward to appease the sports-starved masses in light of the Covid-19 pandemic, creating something impossibly rare in 2020 - appointment television. Outside of the very biggest events, shifting viewing habits have meant that feeling of everyone watching the same thing at the same time has become an anachronism.
And yet, with nowhere to go, and nothing to do, it felt as if once again we were digesting each episode as close to one as the world of streaming services allows.
At first, in a way rivalled perhaps only by Muhammed Ali, you wondered what else there was to know about the man for whom the term GOAT was coined.
The holy trinity of books on the man - 'The Jordan Rules' by Sam Smith, 'Playing for Keeps' by David Halberstam and 'Michael Jordan: The Life' by Roland Lazenby' - combine to offer a pretty full picture of Jordan throughout his career while even his sporting after-life is covered brilliantly by Wright Thompson's magazine piece 'Michael Jordan has not left the building'.
The picture painted is of a man driven to success by a chip on the shoulder so cultivated that it had to be nurtured by slights both exaggerated and imagined
Anyone familiar with ESPN's previous 30 for 30 series will have gleaned good knowledge of the supporting cast too, with Phil Jackson's time as a New York Knick, the life of Dennis Rodman, Isiah Thomas' Bad Boy Pistons and the Magic/Bird, Lakers/Celtics dynamic all having been given the documentary treatment in the far from distant past.
What makes 'The Last Dance' such a success over all 10 hours therefore was not so much the information but the entertainment.
With a treasure trove containing 500 hours of unseen behind-the-scenes footage from a film crew embedded inside the 1998 Chicago Bulls, as well as over 100 interviews, director Jason Hehir had plenty to work with but just as central to the success was what we had seen before - the on-court action.
While so much of the retro sport on show of late has aged horrendously, leaving previous stars to no doubt point out the quality of their pitches, their equipment or their preparation as mitigating factors, watching Jordan in his prime again is a reminder of an other-worldly, gravity-defying and, most importantly, timeless talent.
For those wondering whether he would have been as successful in today's era of 'Splash Brothers' and free-flowing three-point shooting, you have the finals of 1992 - the barrage of three-point shots his revenge against the Trailblazers for thinking they were set at shooting guard with all-star Clyde Drexler come the draft of 1984, all followed by the iconic shrug.
In almost every flashback, especially those against the rougher-than-sandpaper Pistons, there is the reminder that with today's more persnickety NBA officiating, Jordan would have been going to the foul line after almost every drive to the basket. An 83.5% free-throw shooter, just how many more extra chances would he have had over the course of his 15 years?
With game-footage given centre stage, the series concludes with arguably the greatest example of his unique greatness - game six of the 1998 finals against Utah. With an ailing Scottie Pippen and a diminished Dennis Rodman, Jordan, then 36-years-old, took over the game against the Jazz led by hall-of-famers John Stockton and Karl Malone, 'The Last Dance' sealed with one last shot as time ticked away to almost zero.
Despite the gaudy viewing figures and prime position in the popular culture lexicon of a pandemic, neither the project nor its central character has emerged with universal acclaim.
With Jordan's say-so required for the archive footage to be used - hence it going unseen for so long - there is an implied level of control over the production, resulting in the right-to-reply that led to some of the most memorable moments as the five-time MVP scoffs at the opinions of rivals when shown their contributions on an iPad.
Ken Burns, the famed documentarian known for lengthy series on the likes of the American Civil War and Vietnam, was one who took umbrage with the very idea.
"I find it the opposite direction of where we need to be going," he told the Wall Street Journal. "If you are there influencing the very fact of it getting made, it means that certain aspects that you don't necessarily want in, aren't going to be in, period.
"And that's not the way you do good journalism… and it's certainly not the way you do good history, my business."
Former team-mate Horace Grant has voiced his own disapproval while Scottie Pippen, a hall of famer in his own right but the Robin to Jordan's Batman throughout the six-title run, is also said to be unhappy with his portrayal.
Others have latched onto the fact that another former Bull, the politically vocal Carl Hodges, was not on the lengthy list of interviewees even in a section on how, in a 1990 senate race, Jordan declined the opportunity to endorse Democrat Harvey Gantt, an African American up against the notorious racist Republican Jesse Helms.
Mostly though, debate has centred on Jordan's insatiable desire for victory, a win-at-all-costs mentality forged in childhood that surely placed a strain on anyone in his orbit charged with assisting this most singular of talents to triumph in a team sport.
Jordan pushed team-mates to the extreme and he discarded those who couldn't live with it. In 'The Last Dance' we see him belittle Scott Burrell, Steve Kerr remembers the day he was punched in the face and we're told of how he wouldn't pass the ball to Bill Cartwright simply because he'd replaced Jordan's buddy Charles Oakley on the roster. The boss, GM Jerry Krause, gets the bullying toughest of all.
The picture painted is of a man driven to success by a chip on the shoulder so cultivated that it had to be nurtured by slights both exaggerated and imagined - the sort of character who, when inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2009, used his speech as an opportunity to settle decades-old scores rather than give thanks to those who helped him become one of the most revered sportsmen of all time.
In any normal member of society, it's pathological. In an elite sportsman - and elite here in the truest sense of the word - it's deified.
This dichotomy was nothing new and indeed the documentary recalls the reaction to 'The Jordan Rules' in 1992 and its shining of a light on the behaviour of the all-American hero behind the closed doors of the team gym.
The same year he and the greatest team ever assembled brought Olympic gold back to the USA from Barcelona, the public simply didn't want to know. Long since confirmed as accurate, it was described by one Bulls player as 'the best fictional story since Mother Goose'. Its author Sam Smith, was told to take a week off work by his employers and had to take his phone off the hook. People didn't want to know of life behind the curtain.
Now, and one only has to look at how Kobe Bryant's demanding nature was later depicted as a negative caricature, perhaps we'd view it differently.
It's terrifying to think of mediocre athletes seeing Jordan's methods as some sort of instructional manual to be implemented minus the generational talent once lockdown ends but, by the same token, it's hard to imagine we'd see such methods in the same light.
How we accept Jordan, both then and still today, feels of its time. Society is different now, so too is how we look at sports figures, the relish to build up only to tear down well-established stars.
The root cause of this unabashed cynicism is myriad but we were reminded of a prominent cause on Monday.
Following hot on the heels of 'The Last Dance' came 'Lance', another ESPN Films effort, this time focusing on disgraced doper Lance Armstrong.
Similar to Jordan in basketball, Tiger Woods in golf and Ali in boxing, for many Armstrong wasn't a cyclist, he was cycling, his seven consecutive wins at the Tour de France a feat all the more remarkable for having had to overcome testicular cancer in the middle of his career.
Baseball, athletics and swimming have all been beset by their own drug problems but, perhaps thanks to a tale that once seemed so inspiring, Armstong's fall has engendered special rancour. People didn't want to believe the fairytale was a myth and when, through tireless reporting from the likes of David Walsh, they were left with no choice it felt a special kind of betrayal.
Whether Armstrong sitting down now to tell his story was inspired by a desire for redemption or relevance is unclear. It's obvious he has achieved neither.
One scene depicts him being asked if he'd understand if his son - a college athlete - were to be found doping, his answer implies only if the financial rewards were sufficiently lucrative. Another shows him slinking out the back entrance from an award show hoping to go unnoticed only to be told by a friend that had they exited through the main doors there would have been no mob waiting.
Nor, it seems, is there a crowd now.
In America, less than a million tuned into the first of the two parts, more were watching repeats of 'The Last Dance' than 'Lance'.
Armstrong's is a story we should never forget but seemingly want no reminder of, a case study in how and why we came to view our sporting superstars in a different light.
Here, much more than 'The Last Dance', is a documentary that illustrates why, even in the unlikely event of another Jordan, it'd never be quite the same.