Back in early August, Jason wrote a post that declared sports the United States’ national religion. [1] At the time, I took Jason’s observation as (slightly embittered) hyperbole about our cultural landscape’s infatuation with passtimes that achieve absolutely nothing productive. A bit of an excessive rant, thought I, a mere illustration of frustration with a popular (non)activity, and nothing more.
Then I began to attend a Big Ten school.
Jason, I owe you an apology for my unspoken cynicism. Sport has indeed become a nigh-religious cornerstone of everyday life for many people. Nothing exemplifies this quite like the town of a Big Ten school, where football and its rituals and parephrenalia butter the bread of every local man, woman, and child.
Don’t make any mistake- I love the academic half of my school. But sport makes up the school’s more dominant half, making campus and its surronding area nearly theocratic. The Football Faith touches everything.
I come bearing evidence. First, observe this photo of Fall 2006’s Convocation ceremony. Take one part religious revival, one part pep rally, two parts herd behavior, and you have a three-hour-long orientation that looks something like this:
This ceremony, in theory at least, aims to motivate incoming students to make the most of their academic year. Logically, the University president spoke on such a topic. But quickly following all academic well-wishing came energetic presentations by basketball and football coaches. What did they have to offer the class of 2010? Did they tell us to study, to make responsible decisions, to devote our lives to making our dreams reality?
Silly question, I know. They didn’t mention the “college” half of college athletics at all. They just reminded us that We would really show Them this year. You see, a team doesn’t win a game– “We” do. And like any religion, the Football Faith has its standard superstitions. A list of unspoken Football Faith Commandments would say, “Thou shalt not wear anything buy thine’s school colors on game day,” and, “Remember the game day, and it keep it holy; it is a sabbath to The Team, you shall not do any work.”
But nothing slayed me quite like what I saw upon leaving Convocation and walking by the Holy Stadium. Behold Our tribute to The Team, immortalized in stained glass:
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This article [4] explains that the Stadium’s ostentatious stained glass murals came courtesy of a $2 million donation from The Motorists Insurance Group of Columbus. The real kicker, so to speak, lies in the fact that this sizeable sum came from the Group’s charitable arm. Does this not feel familiar? [5]
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