A Sunday afternoon this January found me in front of the TV, switching emotions from ecstasy to utter devastation. No, it was not a high-octane episode of Jerry Springer; my favorite Packers had lost an overtime thriller. Several minutes into my dazed post-game silence, I was accused of taking it “too seriously” and that “it’s just a game.” Oh, it is so much more than a game.
A Broadway show is “just” a play. A novel is “just” a fictional story. Barry Bonds is “just” another cheater. But sports are far different than “just” a game, or book, or play – they couldn’t be much different.
Sports are uplifting. After the country was devastated on 9/11, where did New Yorkers seek solace? By going to the Orchestra? No. They marched to 161st Street to watch the Yankees fill the foot-deep gash in their hearts. The Yankees went on to win the A.L. Pennant, against a backdrop of spine-tingling “USA-USA” chants so loud that dust fell from the Yankee Stadium roof. Cheered for on the road, they became America’s team: a symbol of the country’s resiliency, strength, and defiance.
Sports are uniting. After all, when did the whole neighborhood get together in your living room to scream, yell, paint faces, eat chips and guacamole, and… watch a great musical? Take the Massachusetts father and son who hadn’t spoken in five years. Then something funny happened. No, Dr. Phil did not work a miracle. Their mutually beloved Red Sox won the World Series, and the two were talking again. The medium had been sports.
Sports are not subjective. There are no “maybe” or “sort of” victories. A win is a win, and the final score is final. No need for review boards and committees. Art reviewers can speculate for hours about the meaning of a dot of paint. But sports are absolutely black-and-white, win or lose, glory or shame. Just ask Bill Buckner about the last one.
Sports opportunity is even and fair. Paris Hilton is an international celebrity for her last name. But no one handed Eli Manning his fortune and fame on a silver platter for having an MVP brother and father. Glitz and glam are not important in sports. Where an actress might be heckled for a fashion faux pas, it makes no difference what Derek Jeter wears – except for his rings.
Sports personify the best of the human spirit. In the 1992 Olympics, a British sprinter, Derek Redmond, was in medal position halfway through the 400 meter race when he heard his hamstring pop. Redmond realized his life’s dream was over. But Redmond wasn’t about to give up. Defiantly refusing a stretcher and rising to his feet, Redmond was going to finish. His father, Jim, entered the track and wrapped his fallen son on his shoulders. The crowd of 65,000 rose to their feet, roaring and crying themselves. In a moment for all time, face tear-streaked and twisted in agony, Derek Redmond finished his race.
This is an appeal to all of the critics who call sports “meaningless games”. If sports are just a “game,” then why do we fans get so fanatical about sports? Why do we watch them? Play them? Talk them? Love them?