Anyone who knows me just fell over dead or called me a
liar. Let me explain. The word “fan” is short for fanatic. Fanatics strap bombs to themselves and blow
up pizzerias and busses in the Middle East and elsewhere. Fanatics have out of whack priorities, little
self-awareness, and lack the ability for human companionship. So no currently, I am not a sports fan. But, let’s jump back into the “way-back
machine.” In the summer of 1991 I was 11
and a die-hard Atlanta Braves fan. The
previous year they finished in last place.
In 1991 my brother and I made our own tomahawks, hung Barry Bonds in
effigy and chanted our way to the World Series where Kirby Puckett
and a cheating low down good for nothing Kent Hrbek broke our hearts. By the time 1995 rolled around and I was in
high school, which means I could drive, liked girls, and started playing
football; I barely watched the Braves defeat the Indians in the World
Series.
The only thing I liked more than the Braves was my beloved
Cowboys: Aikman, Novacek, Moose, Irvin,
Emmitt, Jimmy, even Charles Haley and Deion Sanders. I can talk to you for hours about Bill Bates
the aging “gamer” and special teams standout from that era. Along with everyone else in America I screamed
at Leon Lett on Thanksgiving Day for ruining a picturesque win over the
Dolphins. I loved the Cowboys. Then I went to college. Aikman was forced into retirement, Quincy
Carter was no heir apparent, and the Cowboys started losing. Did I mention I was in college? I quit being a fan. I had more important things to do.
I went to Northwestern Oklahoma State University. Haven’t heard of it? Well, that’s ok you are not alone. It’s an NAIA school in well Northwestern
Oklahoma, Alva to be specific. My freshmen
year we missed the playoffs by a field goal in near blizzard conditions. The following year we won the NAIA national
championship. I covered the team for the
school paper as a writer and later as a columnist for a small website. We had future NFL players on those teams and one of my best friends was the full back. It was fun and I got paid (when the checks didn't bounce). We blew people out and everyone cheered and
got discounted gear at the bookstore based on how many touchdowns we
scored. I still have some of those
t-shirts. I was a fan. The next year I got engaged at the National
Championship game. So, it is forever a
part of my story.
Today, I’m a 33 year old full time youth minister, husband,
father of toddlers, and graduate student.
I still keep up with both college and pro football. I enjoy the MLB playoffs and even the NBA
playoffs. But, I’m no longer a fan. Wins and losses do not affect my mood. I don’t schedule my life around the
season. I watch when I’m not busy and I
watch compelling match-ups regardless of who is playing. Sure, I have my favorites, but I’m not
blinded with love or loathing based on laundry and logos. I NEVER use the terms "us" or "we" when talking about a team I'm not actually on. Here is what I realized: College football is 20 year old kids that
play for a college that I didn’t go to.
Some of them are honorable good upright citizens and some of them are not. We all like to think that our team is
comprised of “good clean-cut Christian boys” that help little old ladies cross
the street and that only the SEC and the Cincinnati Bengals have all the
criminals and horse thieves, but that is rose tinted glasses thinking. Here is what I do know: No team bus is ever going to stop and help me
on the side of the road. They don’t know
who I am. They are not worthy of my
passion.
Most, but not all, “fans” that I know can’t tell me the
defense their favorite team runs (half of you just now googled it). They don’t know the difference between a 3-4
and 4-3 defense. Many more never even
played the sport. They’ve never put on
the pads, taken a read step, remembered blocking assignments or had those butterflies on the
opening kickoff (I have a great story about my first high school kick off if
you ever want to hear it). You know by
in large who are not crazy
whack-a-doodle sports fans? Ex- high
level (college) players. They love the
game more than you do, know more than you and I know, and yet they don’t live
and die with each win and loss of a team they are not a part of. It’s called perspective. They have it and “jersey wearing know-it-all
fantasy football nerd” doesn’t have perspective. Neither does 40 year old alumni tailgater
chatting up undergrad coeds outside the stadium. If you are over the age of 23 and you allow a
game’s outcome to change your mood or ruin your weekend, then I perceive that as a lack of
perspective on your part. (Exceptions if
you are directly associated with the team, as in your brother is the field goal
kicker or your dad is the offensive coordinator). Wins and losses don’t affect me once the post-game
show begins. I have a life.
Let me flip the tables now.
I’ve heard minister colleagues complain that too many people would
rather watch the Cowboys than attend their LifeGroup on Sunday afternoons. Really?
Do you really think that you yammering at your flock another 40 minutes
is the answer to anyone’s problems? I
doubt it. Not always, but I prefer to
watch the games with friends and family. You know; in community!
We have traditions. The twins
wear Cowboy gear, Jamie makes special whole wheat Splenda Cowboy cookies and we fellowship with
friends while the game is on. The kids
play and we all have fun. Football
provides the reason to get together, but doesn’t dictate our mood.
Locally, football is a great cultural touchstone for
relating to the community. I attend
virtually every home Hobbs game to support my students (band members, football
players, cheerleaders, etc…) and to see folks from the community. So to you ministers out there that are
anti-football just treat your community as a missionary would treat their
mission field. Use what is available to
relate to people where they are. Paul
did. You wouldn’t go to South America
and ridicule people for liking soccer (ok so I would, which is why I’m never
going to be a missionary in South America).
So, show some respect. Cheer on
Friday nights and know enough about the Cowboys to have a 3 minute conversation
with the townspeople. Nobody expects you
to get a blue and silver tattoo or diagram a Tampa 2 coverage defense.
I think I have offended everyone. So I apologize to one and all (except Fantasy
Football nerds and soccer players).
“Ride Rangers Ride!”
