We're glad baseball is close to returning. We love it and miss it. But we also hope that participation in the sport doesn't end up harming or killing anyone during this terrible COVID-19 pandemic.

Over the past week, despite baseball's rancorous negotiations regarding a return to play, it has been clear that the season is not at stake. Commissioner Rob Manfred has the power to set a schedule, and he will use it if the league and Players Association fail to reach a new agreement.

But as financial talks consume the sport and our coverage of it, a more ominous threat to the 2020 season gathers: The persistence of the coronavirus, which leaves many employees of baseball teams nervous about their personal health, the health of their families, and viability of responsibly finishing the season.

According to the New York Times, 21 states have seen an uptick in infections over the past two weeks. Some of these numbers are attributable to increased testing, but not all. South Carolina has seen 1,000 new cases in the past two days alone.

In Arizona last weekend, the state health director wrote a letter to hospitals instructing them to "fully activate" emergency planning, according to the Arizona Republic.

In Florida, where the Yankees and Mets will soon report for spring training, the virus is spreading at an alarming rate. We've spoken to several baseball people who are already in Florida, and they describe restaurants, bars and public spaces that are persistently well-populated.

"Cinco de Mayo was a sh-t show down here," says one baseball person working in Florida. "People everywhere."

All of this serves to remind us that it's the coronavirus -- not Manfred, not Tony Clark, not ballplayers, and not labor lawyers -- who will decide how the MLB season goes. Or if it goes.

The virus will also tell us if MLB and the players will come to regret the decision to travel and play in home ballparks, rather than inside a bubble.

Months ago, government officials including the highly respected Dr. Anthony Fauci expressed cautious optimism about baseball's Arizona plan, which would have kept all players in a central location for games in and around the Phoenix area.

Players objected to this idea because they didn't want to be away from their families. Nor did they love the idea of playing in the intense heat of an Arizona summer. Owners objected to it because they didn't want to sacrifice ballpark revenue like televised signage and sponsorships; they wanted games in different time zones every day; and they wanted their home venues ready to receive fans if that ever became feasible.

The league moved on to a plan that involved regional travel. Once the regular season begins, players will be in airplanes, hotels and buses. They will be urged, but not required, to isolate when not working. They will be tested frequently and forced to act cautiously in ways big and small -- but none of those measures can guarantee safety.

Some players have family members who are high risk; they likely won't be able to see those loved ones for months. Families are steeling themselves for this emotional hardship.

But while the players are at risk, it's the support staff whose situations will be even scarier. These are not millionaires, or even necessarily people who can afford to take a few months off because of health concerns.

Few bullpen catchers, clubhouse attendants, cooks and bus drivers can afford to send their spouse away for months, or rent another apartment to live in temporarily. Some support staff live in multi-family residences or with roommates and aren't paid enough to change those circumstances.

Over the past few months, we've received DMs from club employees and family members who are worried about these issues. These people can't be expected to risk their jobs by speaking publicly, but they don't want to get sick at work. And they certainly don't want to pass the virus to a person in their orbit.

We hope this all works out, we really do. We want the coronavirus to go away, so we can all go back to work and watch baseball when we're home.

But it's health -- and not money -- that will decide whether baseball's experiment goes well.

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