Sportsball

It’s August as I write this, which means college football is upon us and Major League Baseball is about to enter the two most exciting months of the year. I write this article as a recovered and repentant sports fanatic who is suggesting that we all reevaluate our affection for sports (or as Ben Ratliff calls it: Sportsball). 

Like many good things in this world, sports make terrible gods. Even if our affection and attention for them doesn’t rise to the level of worship, they can certainly have more of our energy and focus than they deserve. I tell people all the time that I grew up in the shadows of Doak Campbell Stadium in Tallahassee, Florida. To which people usually ask, “Oh, so you grew up right next to the stadium?” To which I reply, “No, I lived in the suburbs of the northern part of the city, but that’s how long the shadow of that cathedral is cast.” 

Growing up a Florida State fan in the 1990s was a magical and spoiled existence. Every year for a decade, we were in striking distance of a national championship and literally always finished in the top five. And after difficult seasons in the 2000s, in 2013 when Famous Jameis led the Noles to a national title under Jimbo Fisher, the euphoria of that old 90s glory briefly returned. But about two weeks after FSU beat Auburn, I had a sense of meaninglessness wash over me. It was right out of Ecclesiastes: vapor of vapors.

All of that energy, passion, and attention…and for what? The high was gone so quickly. Not a single person on that team knew my name, and at 27 years old, two decades of passion for Seminole football began to fade away. Although I still wish the program great success, I can not tell you who the starting quarterback will be this fall. In fact, I don’t think I could name a single player on the roster. 

A similar thing happened in the fall of 2016. I also grew up a Chicago Cubs fan. My dad was born and raised in Central Illinois, and even though the Braves were widely beloved in Tallahassee in the 1990s as I grew up, we loved Greg Maddox because he was a Cubbie before he signed with Atlanta. When the Cubs finally broke the curse that lasted for over a century, I was on a houseboat in Chattanooga, Tennessee and my sister FaceTimed me in the ninth inning of game 7 so that I could enjoy the final few outs with my dad who was in Tallahassee. Eddie Vedder once sang “Someday we’ll (the Cubs) go all the way,” and finally, they did. As Cubs fans, all of our pain and suffering turned into joy. But after a few weeks, the gladness faded away. I still love Wrigley field. I truly believe it’s one of the greatest athletic facilities in North America. But ever since that magical Fall, my love and affection for the Cubs has faded. 

I’m thankful that the Lord greatly tempered my affection for Sports. I didn’t pray for it. He just did it. What a blessing. Whether or not “my teams” won or lost had far too much of an impact on me. I was far too invested in what complete strangers could accomplish on a court or on a field. I only have so many hours in a day, and I only have so much emotional energy and attention to give, and I am thankful that the Spirit of God has lessened my desire to care about Sports. 

In the American evangelical South, men will attend their favorite stadiums on Saturday to stand and sit and sing and shout and chant and clap with vigor and excitement as their team play. They will show up early to fellowship with other people as they feast and prepare for the game. But some of the same men will show up to the Lord’s house on Sundays with all the enthusiasm of someone awaiting a root canal. They will say things like, “Singing just isn’t my thing” or “I’m not really into the liturgy” or “I’m just not good at sitting for 30 to 45 minutes at a time.” 

I would suggest that this is because of their affections. It’s no problem for them when they love something. The problem on Sundays is actually us. It’s our loves. We will sacrifice time and energy for what we love. We are even willing to make ourselves look like fools for what we love. 

I once heard a candidate for ministry in my presbytery explain how his wheelchair -bound grandfather would thrust himself down on the ground to bark like a dog during UGA football games. Quite frankly, an older man doing that in front of his grandson is one of the most undignified and absurd things that I could picture. I would be ashamed if my grandfather did such a thing, but this young man was laughing with joyful nostalgia. Why? Because he had the same disordered affection for Georgia football that his grandfather had. 

We are willing to be fools for institutions that don’t know who we are. We are willing to shout ourselves hoarse for people who would not know if we died tomorrow. But at times, we are unwilling to be slightly foolish to worship God in Christ.

Brothers, what have you set your highest affections upon? What are you willing to look foolish for? I would contend that we have spent far too much energy, attention, and affection upon things that are unworthy of it. May God help us all enjoy sports for what they are. May He protect us from giving too much of ourselves to the vapor of sportsball.

Nate Xanders is the pastor of Christ the King Church (PCA) in Louisville, TN and serves as an editor for Reforming Men.