Violent, Barbaric,… and Christian?

I hate to get on this issue again, but violence in football continues to be a hot topic. This week there were some very violent hits during NFL games, prompting the NFL to levy some fines and, because of one player’s comments that fines really don’t bother the players very much, to threaten suspensions for violent hits.

The response of defensive NFL players was not surprising. James Harrison (who had two hits that were singled out by the NFL for fines) said this: “I don't want to see anyone injured, but I’m not opposed to hurting anyone. There’s a difference. When you’re injured, you can’t play. But when you’re hurt, you can shake it off and come back, maybe a few plays later or the next game. I try to hurt people.”

This comment is a blatant statement about the violent nature of the sport, and when I read it I thought of the words of a respected, successful Christian high school football coach: “When I was in high school, I loved to hit people. The football field is one place where it’s legal to hit people. If you hit people in other places, you can get thrown in jail. But on the football field, you get to hit people, and I loved to hit people.”

There’s a very small area of distinction to be made here. How, exactly, do you “hit people” without seeking to “hurt” them? Can you intentionally “hurt” someone without significant risk of “injuring” him? Can such a distinction be made, especially in the excitement of the moment? And how should a Christian coach react to such a distinction? Does this mean that a Christian school football team will be at a disadvantage because they won’t intimidate the other team by “hurting” them? Or can a Christian coach teach his players to only “hit” an opposing player, or only to “hurt” the other team enough so that they don’t lose the edge, while still avoiding “injuring” the opposing player? How, exactly, does “hurting” an opposing player reflect the sorts of values – sportsmanship, honor, respect, skill – that God-glorifying competition should display?

The bottom line is that football is a violent game. Brian Urlacher, the Chicago Bears’ hard-hitting linebacker summed it up when he said, “You know what we should do? We should just put flags on everybody. Let’s make it the NFFL — the National Flag Football League. It’s unbelievable.” In the same article, Chris Harris, a Bears defensive back tweeted, "This is a violent, barbaric sport. You have a split second to make decisions when making a hit."

We expect hard-hitting – violence – in the game of football. But as Joe Posnanski suggests in his excellent essay, we also expect to see the players get up after the hard hits like Wile E. Coyote gets up after his cartoon mishaps. We don’t want to see the gruesome injuries like Joe Theisman’s broken leg, or see a player motionless and paralyzed on the field. We want them to get up. We forget that they may have long-lasting damage from the violence of the game, including damage to brains that have horrifying effects – including death.

Can football be played in such a way that skill, honor, technique, and sportsmanship are revealed for all to see, in such a way that “hitting” is skillful without “hurting” or, worse “injuring”? If football is made less violent and barbaric – and more skill-full – will anyone want to watch? There’s a lot of money involved in the NFL and NCAA tackle football, not to mention high school tackle football. But will anyone want to watch the NFFL?

And so I continue to wonder… is it appropriate for a Christian school to have a football team?

Football Violence - How Much Is Too Much?

For quite some time I have wondered whether or not it is appropriate for Christian schools to have football teams because of the violent nature of the sport. One friend's comment points out that football doesn't have to be about violence, but is meant to be about strength and technique. Very possible, but a recent Sports Illustrated piece affirms what is clear to most anyone who watches football games -- football is violent.

Michael Rosenberg asks the question, "What would it take for you to give up football?" And he means it as "a conscience-searching, soul-defining question. How much suffering should others endure for our entertainment?" He wonders how many deaths or tragic injuries does it take before someone says, "Enough." Recent studies about the effects of concussions and various syndromes that result have raised the issue once again. It appears that we won't be able to design helmets that prevent concussions, so what needs to happen?

Rosenberg provides reasons why football is so popular, and one of the reasons is violence:

There are many reasons football is our most popular spectator sport -- it has the perfect pace, just the right amount of scoring and luck, and it's ideal for television, to name a few -- but high on the list is this: it has always seemed to feature the appropriate level of violence.

Players get drilled, but they almost always get up. At worst, they break a limb or are too woozy to return. But we don't see them killed and we rarely even see them bloodied as much as boxers.

We get three things out of this:

1. The undeniable visceral thrill of seeing a great hit.

2. The emotional attachment that comes with knowing these men are willing to endure pain for the game; it gives the games a gravitas that is missing from, say, an NBA game.

3. A clear conscience. We usually see the players get up. Truly awful, career-ending, I-can't-look-at-the-replay injuries (the most famous example: Joe Theismann's shattered leg) are rare enough that we can dismiss them as aberrations.

Rosenberg then states his opinion that "it has become increasingly apparent that football features an inappropriate level of violence. We just don't see the effects of it right away."

For example, Rosenberg points to the story of Owen Thomas, a junior Penn football player who committed suicide, whose autopsy revealed significant trauma-induced brain disease. Rosenberg concludes that at age 21, "Owen Thomas probably did not die because of a single hit or ignorant trainers, but simply because he chose to play football."

Reports on a study that came out in August raise the possibility that many athletes who are diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease) may not have ALS, but rather have brain neural disease that results from traumas like repeated significant concussions. Gehrig is known to have suffered a number of significant concussions, raising the possibility the Lou Gehrig didn't die from Lou Gehrig's disease, but rather from brain trauma.

So how much is too much? How violent is too violent?

And still I wonder… is it appropriate for a Christian school to have a football team?

Mike Sweeney

It's been a long time since I've posted, but because of a few conversations and a few things I've seen lately, I thought it was time to start again. And what better way to start than with the story of Mike Sweeney.

I'm not going to retell the story of Mike Sweeney - Joe Posnanski does a terrific job of that in his latest essay. Go ahead and read that first…

Welcome back. Theologian Alister McGrath writes, "We are all on a journey, whether we like it or not. For some, that journey leads from birth to death and no further. For others, who have come to know God, that journey is more complex." Mike Sweeney is a devout believer, and his journey through over 1450 baseball games without playing in the post-season has been complex, but through all the trials of playing for losing teams, mostly the Kansas City Royals, Sweeney has found joy in playing baseball. His taking an undervalued contract to play in Kansas City is a model of trust in God that overcomes greed. His quiet enduring of fans who later forgot that he took less money than he could have to stay in Kansas City and booed him, is a model of Christlike patience. His thank you letter at the end of his Royals career, noting that "faith, hope, and love remain, but the greatest of these is love," offers a way of sharing your faith with the kind of class that results in a standing ovation (which he receive the next day before his first at bat of his final game). His building a baseball field in a part of Kansas City that used to be home to drug dealers is a model of using the resources God gives you to transform part of your world into the kingdom of God.

And now, for the first time, Mike Sweeney is playing post-season baseball. He got a hit in his one at bat against the Reds. Maybe he'll get a chance to pinch-hit in the NL Championship Series. Maybe he'll even get to play in the World Series, if the Phillies can make it there. It would be a delight if he were to have a game- or series-winning hit in one of those series. But even if he doesn't, his complex journey has been a light shining in a professional sports world that is too often full of darkness.

I hope Mike Sweeney gets to pinch-hit in an important moment of the post-season, and I hope he gets a winning hit. But even if he doesn't, he's made far more important hits.