Today in Boston they had a parade. Not on
account of some civic holiday or victory in a war or any such, no. The
parade is being held because a baseball team that plays primarily in Boston won
four games in a series designed as a best-of-seven format, against a team that
plays primarily in St. Louis. I say "that plays primarily in"
because, of course, the teams don't "belong to" either city in any
legal sense, nor in a residential one (most players scatter to warmer climes in
the offseason), nor indeed in any other sense besides the fact of playing a
majority of their games in that city, except for what might be called the
"heart" sense. Thousands of citizens in Boston claim the Red
Sox as "their" team, even their "home" team, and go to
sometimes mind-boggling lengths to demonstrate their loyalty to that team.
On occasion, as was the case this year with the Red Sox and Boston in the
wake of the Marathon bombing, the team actually draws closer to "its"
city than is typical of the hired mercenaries that professional team sports
players are, for all practical purposes. Still, viewed in the abstract,
it's an odd thing, even if has become a tradition stretching over decades.
In other parts of the country, thousands upon
thousands of individuals are descending upon cavernous coliseums and smaller-scale
gridirons in large cities and college towns and even smaller towns to watch
dozens of huge boys slam into each other at frightening speeds wearing layers
of armament, seeking touchdowns and glory. Some of these individuals (or
"fans," which may or may not bear relationship to the far scarier
word "fanatic") perhaps attended the colleges or universities hosting
these games today; many did not. This after many of these same folks
crowded into high school stadiums for football games last night, and before
many folks will trek to one of thirty-two stadiums designated for use by
professional football teams playing in a league that rakes in cash in
unimaginable fistfuls, some small pittance of which cash goes, after much legal
gnashing of teeth and years of garish denial, to the men whose minds were
broken by their participation in the game, or in many cases to their survivors,
a league with the power to snap its fingers and cause ESPN (a rather large
financial player in sport itself) to run contritely away from a documentary on that subject by
two of its own best investigative reporters.
A not-small number of fans tuned into football of a
different sort today, the kind that actually requires feet on the ball more
routinely, broadcast from England or other points in Europe. They were
probably spared the sound of any racially-based taunting from fans in the
stands towards players of obvious non-European origin. Some fans of that
sport will take in the playoffs in the domestic league tonight.
Other fans will turn out for games in the NBA or
NHL, two seasons just getting started as baseball ends and football nears the
homestretch. Fans of college basketball await season-opening games in
just a few days. Players will play, fans will scream and cheer and groan
and maybe boo and maybe worse. Some players will be injured. Many
will watch games at home, singly or in groups. Rivers of alcohol will be
consumed. And billions of dollars, insane amounts of money, will change
hands.
Some teenagers or even younger kids spend virtually
all year playing a single sport, the whole concept of "seasons" going
out the window, in an effort (I presume?) to improve their chances of getting a
college scholarship or going pro. Kids skilled at tennis or other
individual sports uproot their entire lives to enroll in and live at
"academies" in nice sunny places to pursue that sport virtually
full-time. This latter is pretty old-hat by now. In high schools
and colleges, being "on the team" has moved far beyond a
get-out-of-school-free pass or anything so small; it has almost evolved into license to rape. And the only word in
that last sentence I regret is "almost."
Frederick Buechner, in The Alphabet of Grace,
sagely observed that "where your feet take you, that is who you are."
Others have made note of the power of money to reflect the priorities of
those who have it and spend it. These facts alone, in my opinion, are
quite sufficient justification to hold up the world of sports, those who play
it and those who watch it and those who own it, up for critical scrutiny from a
perspective informed by faith, theology, doctrine, belief, or whatever
religious buzzword you choose. It is a powerful, lucrative, and pervasive
societal presence. To pretend it is beneath consideration, somehow an
abstraction from the "real" business of living as Christ-followers in
God's world, is as insanely wrong-headed as an uncritical opportunistic embrace
of sport as a vehicle for marketing faith, or particular varieties of it.
The title of this blog is taken from a remark I
remember well from my south Georgia childhood, something like this:
"Football is not a religion. It's way more important than
that." The remark, or some variant of it, was usually delivered
tongue-in-cheek even if it shouldn't have been, even if it should have been
uttered flatly as an unexceptional statement of fact. There are of course
many who take in sporting events for whom it is far less than that, an
occasional escape or diversion. Still, the money changes hands, and
that escape may be implicated in more brain damage, or the sham of the
"student-athlete" or funds for a ballpark instead of schools, or who
knows what yet-undiscovered shame or scandal. Where our feet take us is
who we are, at least to some degree, and our money reveals our love.
I am a fan, particularly of baseball, somewhat of
college basketball, increasingly of MLS soccer (awaiting Sporting Kansas City's
playoff match tonight). These days I can't make myself watch football
without wondering how many years are being taken off lives with every hit, but
I keep up enough to follow conversations during the week. I haven't
really followed the NBA closely since Dominique Wilkins left the Hawks, but
again, I do keep up. If you doubt my bonafides, I'd invite you to
investigate my t-shirt drawer, or drawers; more baseball t-shirts than I can
count, major and minor leagues, including eight just from spring training sites
in Florida, some of which are no longer in use, as well as a Sporting KC
t-shirt and one from the Kansas Jayhawks' national championship back in 2008, and
a few assorted Florida State shirts.
I'm also a seminary student hopefully graduating in
May and hopefully headed towards a pastorate somewhere, with an itch to write.
Between the two, I just don't think the role sports plays in the world can be ignored by people of faith. I'm not arrogant enough to think that
I'm the perfect person to do it (I can't wait until somebody attacks me over
presuming to speak on the subject when I Never Played The Game), but I'm
arrogant enough to think that somebody needs to speak to it, and
I'm expendable enough that I might as well hold the fort until bigger names and
smarter thinkers than I get around to it.
Hence, a new blog. My other
blog is still in existence, and I'll still write on it as often as
possible. Where that one is a bit more personal, I'm naive enough or
arrogant enough to hope that this one might go somewhere. For now,
it starts small, as I work out the kinks (and finish seminary!). I have a
heap of ideas but would not mind suggestions.
Do I expect to change the world? Hah. I
don't even expect to change your mind. But I do expect you to think about
it, at minimum, and be ready to ask questions sometimes; to question assertions
that somehow rule out a course of action when a problem seems intractable.
Is football scrambling brains? Don't tell me that football can't be
curtailed or eliminated if no other solution is found. Don't tell me that
superstars can't be suspended for cheating (this means you, Alex Rodriguez).
Don't tell me can't, ever, when it comes to sports and their
scarring of society, no matter how much good they might sometimes do or how
much enjoyment they bring.
Because if we ever accept the word
"can't" when addressing the ways sports becomes a blemish on
society, the church should just fold up and disappear just as surely as it
should if it ever accepts poverty or prejudice or any other societal ill you
name as intractable and gives up screaming for justice.
At least, that's what I think.
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