So after nearly breaking my toe on the coffee table in a fit
of rage, twice letting out a string of words that my one-year old dog should
never have had to hear, and waking up at 4am in a cold sweat wondering if Super
Bowl XLVIII was just some terrible nightmare; my physical and marital health
requires that I ask myself the question, Why do I care so much?
I don’t ask the question negatively. Yes, sports have been
overblown to idolatrous proportions in most every culture that I know of around
the world. I don’t deny that. But this isn’t a blog about overpaid players,
family-destroying gambling debts and drunken brawls in the parking lot. That
exists. It’s true. It’s sad.
But in the final minutes of what is being called one of the
worst Super Bowl performances ever, I couldn’t shake the thought, “I would be
thrilled to one day have a son or daughter commit themselves to the Broncos
(their choice, I won’t pressure them, although the Raiders are off limits) so
that they too can experience this kind of agony.”
I really mean that for a reason that bandwagoners and
football dilettantes who only show up to a Super Bowl party for the beer and
wings will never understand. Committing yourself to a team and being in it for
the long haul, come rain or shine, is an excellent way to build what turns out
to be one of the most important discipleship qualities we can actually effect:
Character
In our pseudo-Christian culture, emotionalism and
intellectual certainty are the signatures of having “faith.” But a serious
disciple is more concerned with cultivating what Eugene Peterson calls “A Long
Obedience in the Same Direction.” Mature disciples look at things like
spiritual euphoria and intellectual certainty as gifts or happy accidents when
they come along but not the main thing. What they’re more interested in is what
they can actually build through time and intentionality, and that’s
character.
If kept in perspective and understood rightly, football
allegiance can be an excellent modern analogy of what I believe Jesus is
illustrating in the “Parable of the Sower,” which is essentially about the
character that receives faith and practices discipleship.
When the word of the kingdom is sown, some of it falls on
the path. These are the party-hoppers whose love of football was discovered the
week before the Super Bowl in direct proportion to their dread of being left
out of whatever is current in pop culture. They’re the ones at the party who,
lacking more sophisticated football jargon, are constantly annoying everyone
with commentary that’s accurate but just a pinch too obvious: “Boy, they really
scored the football in the end zone on that one.”
As for the seed that was sown on rocky ground, these are the
bandwagoners. They’ve watched enough football that they can comment
intelligently on whether a receiver got both feet down or a pass interference
call was ticky-tack, but by the time the third quarter comes along they’re suddenly
uncovering all these revelations about how they’re only wearing the losing
running back’s jersey because they were such big fans of his during his college
days and they really don’t care who wins as long as it’s a good game. Part of
you despises them and part of you wants to be extra nice because, like any
traitor or mercenary, deep down they don’t even respect themselves.
Some seed is sown among thorns. These are like the
photographic negatives of the bandwagoners. They’re not interested in
identifying with the winners. They’re merely interested in twisting the knife
in the side of the losers. These people have all the principle and integrity of
the Lexus driver who purposely switches lanes so he can splash the shivering dog
on the side of the road. I don’t know what type of individual takes pleasure in
this kind of arbitrary sadism, but these are worse than the tax collectors or
the heathen.
Still, there is the seed that is sown in good soil.
All other things being equal, I will bet on the loyalty, the
resilience, the graciousness in life’s victories and defeats, and, yes, even
the sense of perspective of a Cleveland Browns fan or Chicago Cubs fan to one
of these other soil types any day.
This kind of faithfulness over the long haul is
self-evidently valuable. My father and his father suffered through some of the
most depressing football teams ever fielded when the Broncos began their
franchise with 13 seasons without a winning record. It was never a question of
whether they might just decide one day to root for the ’67 Packers or ’72
Dolphins. To seek instant gratification by jumping ship would be to give up any
chance at a real victory ever. Abandoning their team for a winner could only
happen at the expense of the integrity of the game as a whole.
If I should be so blessed, I want my kids to learn these
qualities. I want them to learn that there is great value in waving the flag of
a loser decade after decade and that the joy of cheering for a winner is hollow
if you didn’t have to earn your stripes to get there. I want them to wear their
Broncos shirt to school not just before a big game but after a devastating
loss.
There is something just plain dignified—something that the
path, the rocky ground and the thorns will never comprehend—when my Dad (who
makes me look like a casual fan) swallows the lump of defeat and texts me at
the end of yesterdays game:
“Sometimes things just
don’t go right…Don’t forget, a lot of
teams don’t make it this far…I’ll still be their most loyal fan.”
Sports can be trivial. They can suck up way too many
resources that would be better spent elsewhere.
The relationships many of us have to our teams are full on idolatrous.
But if I were given the chance to select a group of people
who likely have the right character for discipleship, all other things being
equal, give me the Broncos nation on Feb. 3rd. Not the one on Feb. 1st.
GO BRONCOS!
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