by Ben Howard
Every sports fan knows that no matter
how hard you try to avoid it, you will inevitably run into that one
person who is absolutely incredulous that you follow sports. One day,
maybe today, maybe tomorrow, you'll be at a party and you'll ask
someone for the score to some random game that has little to no
existential significance and they will look at you, roll their eyes
and smugly state that, “You're just rooting for laundry.”
When that time comes you will stare
back at this incomprehensible fool, this titan of arrogance and
dismissive snark and...you will say nothing, because they are pretty
much right when you think about it.
For instance, I grew up as Cowboys fan
and have fantastic memories of rooting for Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin
and Emmitt Smith (true story, I once wanted to go as Emmitt Smith for
Halloween, but was highly unaware of the racial undertones of an 8
year old in black-face). I knew all the players. I knew what it meant
to root for the Cowboys. I knew about the pride and the tradition.
This is America's Team.
Fast forward two decades later. None of
those players are still on the team. None of those players have been
on the team in ten years. The only connection between then and now
are the fans and the owner and I'm pretty sure the fans didn't choose
to root for Jerry Jones.
But it's the same laundry. And that
laundry carries a tradition. For the Cowboys it's a tradition of
outsized personalities and being the best of the best. It's about
being bigger than the game. For a team like the Pittsburgh Steelers
it's being tough and rugged and consistently great. On the flip side
for a team like the Cincinnati Bengals or Arizona Cardinals it means
being a perennial underachiever.
It's true for all sports and at all
levels. Technically, you're rooting for laundry and the names and the
players change all the time. Sometimes even the game evolves and it
looks different than it did in your youth, but the tradition of what
it means to be a fan of your team still shapes the way you watch the
game.
I grew up watching Troy Aikman, Emmitt
Smith, Darren Woodson and Deion Sanders, so when I watch football I
don't just want to see a win, I want to see that special mixture of
efficiency and artistic brilliance. In baseball, I grew up watching
Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux pitch for the Braves and so artistry
defines my way of understanding the sport. I'm shaped by the
tradition I grew up in and I'm shaped by what it means to be a fan of
my team and by what my team means.
This happens in churches all the time.
We are defined by the legacy of those who came before us even though
they are no longer apart of our present community. For some that
tradition is rich and vibrant like the Pittsburgh Steelers, for
others it can only be seen as a series of disappointments and
failures.
So what to do with this tradition? What
should we do with this inherited meaning of who we are?
Our natural instinct I think is to
jettison it in favor of our own hand-crafted identity, but this is a
dangerous response. Former Michigan coach Rich Rodriguez broke many
Michigan traditions when he arrived in Ann Arbor to try and restore
the once powerhouse program. In breaking these traditions, he made
many enemies and eventually was unable to find the sort of success
that he envisioned for his program. We run the same risk if we break
away from tradition too harshly. It is entirely likely that the
backlash of breaking tradition will define us instead of our new
hoped for identity.
I have seen this especially in
non-denominational and evangelical churches who have become so
enamored with breaking the chains of tradition that they become
defined by what they are not instead of by what they are. They do not
use the liturgy, the do not have priests, they do not practice the Eucharist, but in this cacophony of do nots they are no longer able
to communicate what they do.
The other extreme is to hold too
tightly to tradition in the hopes that you can recreate the past.
I'll title this John Elway disease, but there could be many names.
John Elway was the Hall of Fame quarterback for the Denver Broncos
from 1983 until 1998. In his time with the Broncos he established
them as a perennial contender and brought them back to back Super
Bowl championships during his final two seasons. John Elway was irreplaceable, but that hasn't stopped the Broncos from trying. First
they tried Brian Griese, who was good, but he wasn't John Elway. Then
the same thing happened with Jake Plummer, and once again with Jay
Cutler, and finally with the magical woodland fairy creature known as
Tim Tebow.
For Denver, John Elway became a ghost
instead of an honored part of the tradition. He has haunted the
franchise instead of enriching it with his legacy. I feel like this
especially is true in mainline protestant churches who are haunted by
a time of prominence and power that they no longer experience.
Instead of transitioning to something different when the time has
come, they continue to fight in an effort to recover a ghost.
I think the proper way to deal with
tradition is to respect it and let it guide you even while you
transition into something new. It is still your past and you deal
with it, good or bad, accordingly. However, while the church is
shaped by its past and needs to understand where it has come from, it
is not shackled to its past. Maybe this is the Aaron Rodgers ideal
of the church. Brett Favre was great and he did great things and
Aaron was taught under Favre's tutelage, but it's his turn now and
that might not look like the exact same thing. That's okay, it's
healthy and it's growth.
So yes, I root for laundry. I root for
what it means, what it has meant, and what it might mean in the
future. I root for the story it tells and how that story shapes me
and how I view the world. I root for the way that laundry might be
redeemed and renewed and how it might look like something entirely
different to a future generation.
Thanks for making me think
Incredulous-Fellow-At-Party!
Peace,
Ben
When he isn't taking passing insults
way too literally, Ben likes to imagine what sports would be like if
they were all played on the moon. You can follow him on Twitter
@BenHoward87 or email him at benjamin.howard [at] gmail.com.
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