It’s just a game…
Or so we say.
Sometimes my sense is we’ve got the games and the non-games all mixed up. We discern some activities as a form of play or sport — and other activities as serious and life altering — when maybe they belong in the other so-called category. Once again, we have made something more important than perhaps it should be.
I look at the reactions of last weekend — a typical fall weekend featuring a full slate of college and pro football, the start of hockey and the NBA, and including baseball’s annual World Series. Then I look at the downcast reactions of those who lost the game…
From NY Mets manager Terry Collins and pitcher Matt Harvey, both disparagingly blaming themselves for allowing the Kansas City Royals to tie in the 9th inning and eventually win the Fall Classic… to Steelers QB “Big Ben” Roethlisberger after a tough loss, saying he “let this team down” and “this one is on me”… to all the anger and frustration in the Duke/Miami college football match up, in which an 8-lateral, loose, last-second play with all sorts of errors and inefficiencies (absent a meddling marching band) led to a suspension of the officials.
I get it. I mean no criticism of any of the above; I would be equally frustrated, as we are a competitive people. And as one who also enjoys winning, I understand the deep disappointment. I simply wonder if that disappointment has gone too far in us — and we’ve made games into something more than they actually are. We see it in adults. We see it in our kids. We see it in ourselves.
Let me not act, however, as if a game has no value…
Sports are of great value because they are a venue in which God can work on us to teach humility, hard work, and determination. They are a place where we can learn teamwork and selflessness; we learn to support one another. Also, when we fail, we can turn around and try again. We learn, too — hopefully — to turn around and congratulate the person next to us, knowing no one wins forever — and some will never win; not everyone gets a trophy. Sports are a venue in which we can see the manifest reality that life is not “all about me.” The value is actually in the humility and hard work — not in the winning.
That’s hard, I think, for most of us to handle — especially when we see the economic impact of sports and the big business it’s become. Note how “fantasy football,” for example, has even crept into our presidential debates. Millions of dollars are now exchanging hands there; hence, you know that some will declare a need to regulate or be involved (and, uh, get a piece of that). My point is that our games have become far more than games. No, it’s not just a game.
I think of Kansas City Royals pitcher, Edinson Volquez. Volquez started two games en route to the Royals championship last weekend. Yet nine days ago, hours before his first World Series start, Volquez’s father, Daniel, passed away in the Dominican Republic after struggling with heart disease. His family made the decision not to tell Edinson until after he was pulled from game one. Edinson then flew home to the funeral before returning to start Sunday’s final game.
Upon his return, Volquez was greeted overwhelmingly compassionately by his teammates… “Wow… I’ve got a lot of people that really care about what happened to me.”
Said teammate Eric Hosmer, “I know he’s going to be thinking about his dad and we’re all going to be thinking about it. We’re all going to try to do it for everyone on this team — everyone that’s lost a family member on this team. We’re all in this together.”
Teamwork… selflessness…
The Royals were determined to play hard and make people proud — utilizing the humility and hard work that helped them reach this moment. While no doubt winning was their desire, something tells me, too, the Royals realized what was a game — and what was not.
Respectfully…
AR