Separation of Church and Sport

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof..."

-- The First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America

There's a movement that's been going on in American sports -- and possibly elsewhere, though I haven't been paying close enough attention to know for sure -- that simply has to stop. Far too many people have bought into the idea that when an important victory is won, the genuflection must begin. I was hoping for a while that the trend would run its course, that cooler heads, as they say, would prevail, but since the fire is only burning brighter, something has to be done. And if I'm the man who has to throw a bucket of common sense on the flames, so be it.

I'm not an expert on proselytizing, but my guess is that the rational for such displays goes something like this. An athlete wins a match and correctly realizes that on some level he should be grateful for being born with the athletic talent, mental acuity, and physical toughness to compete as a world class athlete. And so as he holds the jumbo check or sprays milk on throngs of admirers or leaps triumphantly from the stirrups, he decides to thank god for his abilities.

I'm fine with that part of it, as long as it's just an acknowledgement of a head start of sorts. But the problem begins when athletes deny their role in the process. I think I first noticed this when a young Michael Chang beat Ivan Lendl in a fourth round match that paved the way for his eventual championship at the 1989 French Open. Chang battled cramps and fatigue throughout the five-set match, and when he was interviewed afterwards he said, essentially, "That wasn't me out there. God was playing for me."

There are two obvious problems with this. First of all, God didn't hit a single lob, forehand, or backhand; that was all Chang. Second of all, why the hell is God interested in a tennis match in Paris, France? (If Satan was driving the car for Lendl, I'd understand, but I have no evidence to indicate that.) He has nothing better to do than to materialize in the body of a seventeen-year-old from San Diego? The very idea is preposterous, but Chang seemed to believe it. (And if, by the way, God really is interested in sports, if he really does feel like biding his time between prophets by inspiring athletic genius in an effort to spread the gospel, how exactly do you explain Muhammad Ali? Sandy Koufax? Why were these infidels allowed to prosper?)

Chang, of course, is not alone in this. Athletes everywhere strike this pose, telling all within earshot that God or Jesus Christ -- or even Jehovah -- made it all possible. Part of it probably reflects a desire to use their fifteen minutes to spread the word of God, but things are starting to get out of hand.

When Indianapolis Colts owner Jim Irsay was handed the bright, shiny trophy after his team had just won the AFC championship game two weeks ago, securing a ticket to the game's biggest game, he dropped this line: "As the humble leader of this organization, it's important to give all glory to God."

Last Sunday evening as Peyton Manning was being dipped in gold following his Superbowl win, Indianapolis head coach Tony Dungy gave an unexpected answer to an expected question about the social significance of his team's victory:

I tell you what. I'm proud to be representing African-American coaches, to be the first African-American to win this. It means an awful lot to our country. But again, more than anything, I've said it before, Lovie Smith and I, not only the first two African-Americans, but Christian coaches, showing that you can win doing it the Lord's way. We're more proud of that.

It was right about then that my head exploded. Without going into the fact that probably not a single Christian coach has languished in the Coordinator Desert, waiting for a head coaching position that would never come, let me point out the real reason that all this pisses me off.

Without question, I am a man of faith. My saints are Joe DiMaggio, Roberto Clemente, Muhammad Ali, and Magic Johnson. I worship in cathedrals that smell of popcorn and overpriced beer; I'm happiest when catching the spirit and speaking in tongues ("You da man!") when icons like Derek Jeter, Tiger Woods, or Kobe Bryant bring their travelling revival shows to town. I turn to the east at least five times a day to face my Mecca, Yankee Stadium, and affirm my devotion to the Pinstripes. And contrary to what I said earlier about proselytizing, I shamelessly use this space to spread the gospel of sport as often as I can.

I believe.

And so when Tony Dungy or Serena Williams or someone like that spreads faith across the purity of the playing field, I am offended. Imagine sitting in your church, whether the pews are made of smoothly polished oak or corrugated aluminum etched with seat numbers, and listening as an interloper casually says, "This service was nice, but it's really nothing compared to my religion; it pales in the face of my god."

So when I ask for a separation of church and sport, what I'm really saying is this: you pray your way, and I'll pray mine. Amen.

Comments

[Mike]

All I can say is why take offense at Tony Dungy? He is a decent fellow and a great coach. The CBS guy asked him how he felt! He shared his feelings. To him it was more important to be a Christian coach living by his Christian values than it was to be the first African American coach to win a Super bowl. That's a pretty straight forward answer to the question, don't you think so? If you can't handle that, I think you got issues, not Tony Dungy!

[EJ]

I think you're overreacting a bit here. If Dungy had said something on the order of Chang's infamous comments -- indicating that he believed God had wanted the Colts to win, or wanted him and Lovie to be in the game rather than someone else -- then I'm with you; most thoughtful spiritual people would be, too. But he didn't say that -- this was more Dungy's Frank Sinatra/"I did it my way" moment. I have no idea how NFL coaches coach, but Dungy seems to think that his way is different -- more "Christian" if you will. If that's the case -- well, alright. It's no different than any coach saying, "we played the game the right way." Dungy has his view of what the right way is, and that should be relatively inoffensive. It was clearly important to him to reflect his values in the way he coached -- and he wanted to say that. So what's the beef?