It was during an episode of M*A*S*H, in the operating room, when Hawkeye Pierce nearly lost a patient. He frantically performed CPR, screaming, "Live, dammit, live! Don't let the bastard win!"

The scene endures almost 50 years later, at least for me, an earthling who is growing tired of seeing the bastards win.

Hawkeye was talking about death in that particular scene. But I’ve always applied its message more universally, taking it to mean that nothing in us should be more powerful than our competitive spirit. Or as Jim Valvano said, “Don’t give up; don’t ever give up.”

I’ve thought about this a lot lately, in reference to the society-influenced circumstances leaving some local high school football players unable to partake of their own Friday Night Lights. Unruly behavior and social media threats forced school and town officials in New London and Groton to push start times of games to Friday afternoons to establish safer, more orderly environments.

Kudos to all for their efforts.

Except that we’re not channeling our inner Hawkeye.

We’re letting the bastards win.

Hey, sometimes they do. But there is the next time. And the time after that, understanding that it is our choice to give in to them, in whatever shapes, forms and roles the metaphorical bastards emerge in our lives.

I say we make a different choice.

But do we all care enough?

I hope your ability to think critically helps you understand this is beyond some middling high school football issue. Rather, it’s an illustration of a greater societal scourge. It is throwing up our hands, or perhaps shaking them at the sky, all while the bastards snicker. They snicker because they know we’re all so insulated in our bubbles or drowning in self-absorption that we’re unwilling to do what’s necessary to beat them.

Safer environments, particularly across the expanse of a football complex at night, requires full commitment of students, faculty and staff as well as town and law enforcement officials. Moving games to the afternoons is a temporary solution. But not acceptable over time, unless we’re willing to give in, “out of an abundance of caution,” which has become a modern day euphemism for “we don’t have the time or interest in this, so we’ll do what’s convenient.”

Example: I still haven’t heard a murmur from any New London city official or police officer about what became a public safety issue nearly a month ago now — Sept. 27 — when unruly student behavior became the catalyst to move start times of two home games and adopt a list of spectator guidelines. (This is weighed against the police response in Groton last week, which was exemplary.)

And while kicking the can down the road is nothing new in New London — a six-pack of them was last seen careening toward Birmingham — what happens for the kids next year? We play at night until the first safety issue and then we let the bastards win all over again?

This is going to require more money in school budgets earmarked for more security personnel, more pay and incentives for them, more money to pay more police officers at games (assuming they’re interested) and a commitment from other patrons to do the old “if you see something, say something.”

It’s our responsibility.

Unless you’re OK with letting the bastards win.

I’m not.

Remember: This is not an issue that applies only to certain towns. The bastards are everywhere now. Just look around.

I’ll leave you with the lyrics of Billy Joel and his song “Two Thousand Years.”

“This is our moment; Here at the crossroads of time. We hope our children carry our dreams down the line; They are the vintage. What kind of life will they live? Is this a curse or a blessing that we give?”

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro