Sports and Life

I really like sports. In fact, I have been known to be fanatical about them. My kids are afraid when I watch college football and they are in the room, and my wife and I typically do not get along during that time. There is something about watching sports (especially if one has a vested interest in one of the teams or players) that can bring out the wildest reaction in an observer. The only thing that can probably generate more fury is when one is actually playing the sport. I was watching the NCAA men’s basketball championship game the other night between Florida and UCLA, and I was thinking about how cool it will be to look back on this game years later and remember some of these players that perhaps have gone on to make it big in the NBA. Some of you might think I have already retired, but I am still just musing.

Last week, I sent a lot of my childhood basketball books to our church yard sale, but not without hesitation. Those books did bring back many memories for me as a kid who wanted to be a great athlete (never happened, by the way). In the pile were books about all kinds of basketball greats from the 1950’s all the way to the 1980’s. There was also a book about Magic Johnson, my basketball hero, as well as other books about the Los Angeles Lakers, my favorite team. I remember, though, going outside on our dirt court trying to envision that I was Magic Johnson. He could do it all. He is still in my estimation one of the greatest players to have ever played the game, and undoubtedly one of the most fun to watch in terms of entertainment.

I recall, though, that when Magic Johnson was diagnosed with H.I.V. how devastated I was. I was in high school at the time, but it had a very negative effect on me. I recall how disappointed I was at what had taken place. I remember how my really good Celtic fans gave me the third degree about it, like I’m the one who made him be sexually promiscuous. I did grow up a little in the days and weeks that followed that, however, because it introduced to me the reality of the world in which we live. It never discouraged me from having heroes; it rather taught me the importance of choosing the right ones. It taught me something else, though. It tutored me in the arena of human frailty, and brought me to the realization that money and fame and power are possessions of humanity that often do little but corrupt and corrode the moral fiber of the man inside. Don’t misunderstand me; there are exceptions. But the moral casualties of our sports world are too many to count.

I suppose what reminded me of all this were the recent reports about baseball now looking into the allegations of steroid use among its players, one in particular- Barry Bonds. Bonds will almost certainly break Babe Ruth’s career home run record, and is closing very rapidly on Hank Aaron’s all-time leading career home run record. The reason baseball is jumping through hoops now is because of the pressure congress has put on them to do something about the drug use (and rightfully so). It is also the recent book released that alleges Barry Bond has used steroids for some time. The truth is Bonds is an easy target, and the fact is not many people really like Bonds. He has always been somewhat of a rebel to the sport, in fact. As a Braves fan, I used to dislike him when he played for the Pittsburgh Pirates, because I just thought he was a dirty player, but that may have been just my biased opinion (which I am entitled to, since this is my blog). Bonds was never a friend to the media, or really anyone else in baseball. In fact, his own teammates have been know to dislike him. If you don’t think that is a fair treatment, just ask Jeff Kent who got into a dug out brawl with Bonds two or three years ago, before Kent was traded from San Francisco to Houston. But, as much as I dislike Bonds, I would not have minded his breaking the all-time homerun record. Why? Because, it is history, and I love to be an observer of good history (like when the Red Sox reversed the curse or when Tiger Woods won his first Masters as the youngest ever or when Lance Armstrong won his sixth Tour de France). Considering that none of us actually know whether Bonds used steroids or not at this point, it is still unfortunate that our sports have sunk to this level of moral value. We do know that some have used it, and my own suspicion is that once this can of worms begins to open, many of our favorite players, managers, and teams will be ravaged by the depravity of their own actions.

What does all of this mean? Does it mean that I am going to get mad at them and stop buying tickets and stop watching games? Not really. I will probably fuss and rant, but then I will be back at it again, yelling at the t.v. again to change pitchers or to bunt a guy over instead of trying to knock it out of the park. I do think I need to stop long enough, though, to point out to my kids how life is full of people just like sports figures who might just disappoint us, even people like their dad, i.e. me. I might also want to emphasize the fact that people who cheat to win actually lose in the ultimate game of life. And I may want to throw something in there about the only One who can forgive and fix a cheater is Jesus Christ, and He is the One who will never, ever disappoint them.