One of the most seductive idols of our times is sports. This idol takes many forms, with its temples being scattered everywhere. Those temples range from the local fields surrounded by sidelines populated by parents cheering on (or screaming on) pre-school kids, to the multi-billion dollar edifices where devoted fans gather to cheer on their beloved professional teams. There’s also everything in-between, including those rooms in our homes where the liturgies are played out day-after-day on big screen TVs. Sports. . . a good thing. . . have become an ultimate thing.
After my mom passed away just over three weeks ago, we were remembering the many aspects of her life, including those that we appreciate and chuckle about today. While she inherited a far-less-than-rabid and balanced love for the Philadelphia Phillies from her father, there wasn’t much beyond that which interested her in the world of sport.
One of the memories that brought a chuckle was her disdain for football. When I was in 10th grade, she begrudingly climbed into the stands on a cloudy and cold Saturday afternoon to attend one of my football games for the first time. Afterwards, I asked her how she liked it. What I remember was this response: “I didn’t. I couldn’t find the ball.” The only times I remember after that where she put her eyes on a game was when she would pass through our family room while we were watching a college or pro gridiron game. Oh, there was one other time. . . and we did capture her on video sitting disinterested in the stands. She attended one of my own son’s high school games when he was a senior. I think she may have shown a little more grace. . . feigning willingness to be there.
I got to thinking about all of this early this morning when a Facebook memory popped up from 12 years ago today. It was a post put up by the aforementioned son who is now 40-years-old. A father of boys himself, he has been an athlete, a coach, a sports parent, and a high school physical education teacher. He’s had a front-row seat to our current sport culture and the variety of ways our worship of sport reveals itself. One of those ways is through the sad reality of sports parents who have made the good thing an ultimate thing. . . so much so that they are finding their identity in their kids, they live vicariously through their kids, and they spend inordinate amounts of time and money in pursuit of these things. It’s crazy, isn’t it? And we don’t really realize how out-of-hand it’s gotten until we step back and look.
So, what my son wrote 12 years ago is even more necessary to consider today. What did he write? Here it is. . .
“If you are a parent of an athlete, I urge you to double check your priorities. Your son or daughter will be a mother or father before an athlete…your son or daughter should play the game because they love it not because you love it. Your son or daughter is not defined by performance but by character and attitude. If you feel winning is more important than the hard work and character that is the recipe for winning then you need to prioritize your thinking. All ability can be lost in a blink of an eye, but character and attitude live on. Winning is only most important when character, hard work, and attitude are part of the formula. Winning is a product of all these things.”
Perhaps we need to pay more attention and heed to the final six words of First John: “Little children, keep yourselves from idols.” Unless those of us who are big kids get our priorities in order, we will be passing on a legacy of idolatry that will only grow.
