“I often wonder if sports have become too important to us,” said this diehard Purdue-Reds-Bengals-Colts-DrewBrees-StephCurry-Pacers-Fever-Florida-and-growing-Ohio-State fan.
We seem to have forgotten that sports — at their core — are a game…
… “A form of play… especially a competitive one played according to rules and decided by skill, strength, or luck.”
And yet we look at players on the teams we love and make them heroes…
“He’s such a great guy”…
“Wow… so awesome on and off the court!”…
“Her character… she is such a wonderful person!”
We also look at those on the teams we detest and make them villains…
“Look at him flop — again! Doesn’t everyone see what a terrible person he is!”
“What a jerk!”
“Such dirty players… I can’t stand them!”
And so we make character assessments based on minimal information. Maybe we make assessments based on their off-court public appearances; maybe we make them based on their charitable donations. But the reality is that each is still, always, an incomplete assessment. We cannot determine hero or villain based on such limited assessment.
I was reminded of such watching the current NBA playoffs. It’s been arguably more interesting this year with several quite talented teams (and most deciding to finally play defense). One of those teams — plausibly, primarily due to the presence of all-world all-star, LeBron James — is the Cleveland Cavaliers. With all due respect to my northeast Ohio hardcourt enthusiasts, allow me to humbly admit that I am not a very big fan.
I don’t hate the Cavs (…remember this is just a “game”). I am often impressed with LeBron’s tenacity and his ability to seemingly, sometimes, singlehandedly will his team to win. But I must also admit, when they miss a shot — especially if the Pacers or Steph Curry is playing in opposition — I am somewhat pleased. When Cleveland’s Kyle Korver misses a three, for example, I am especially pleased…
Well, at least I was. Then I read this, last week, from ESPN…
“… A 15-year veteran, Korver prides himself on his consistency and levelheadedness. These are cornerstones of what has made him one of the greatest 3-point shooters in NBA history. His mother, Laine, who once scored 73 points in a high school game, taught him that you’re not great until you’re consistent. He’d always taken it to heart.
But since a terrible week in March, his balance, that fragile component for all shooters, has been off.
Korver’s youngest brother, Kirk, died on March 20 after a brief illness that caught the family and the doctors by surprise. It was devastating for the close-knit family and for the town of Pella, where Kyle’s father, Kevin, has been the senior pastor of one of the community’s largest churches for 25 years, and the Korver brothers are treated as ambassadors and heroes [emphasis mine].
In Pella, though, in the days and weeks after Kirk’s death, there has been an element beyond grief, an unexpected uplifting. It started at the funeral, attended by more than 1,500 people at the Third Reformed Church of Pella, when Kyle and his parents spoke with such purpose that it left those in attendance in awe. And it has carried on as each Korver 3-pointer splashes through the net in the Cleveland Cavaliers’ playoff run as he plays for more than himself.
‘You know it’s hard to hold death in one hand,’ Kyle said. ‘Your brother passing. Everything you feel about that and you get playoffs. Nothing else gives you different eyes for what’s going on in the world and what’s important and what matters.’”
There is something in Korver that makes me believe he gets that there are more important things than sports… that sports are — at their core — a game…
May we never forget that. May we never forget what’s most important.
And as the NBA Finals begin tomorrow, at least when Korver hits a three, I might even cheer.
Respectfully…
AR