Here’s why that’s a good thing
Like most Americans, every year my husband and I get invited to at least two Super Bowl parties. The Super Bowl has been, after all, the biggest single sporting event for as long as we can remember, and efforts at parity in the NFL have made the game more competitive and exciting than ever. But this is exactly why we politely decline invitations claiming to have other plans. Our other plans are to watch the game by ourselves at home without distraction. I am constitutionally incapable of gliding around like Martha Stewart on her Skechers, offering bespoke lingonberry Jell-o shots to guests. I’m in it for the game. Get your own snacks.
The Super Bowl games themselves have exceeded our expectations for many years. Who can forget Tom Brady’s first Super Bowl win over the then-dominant St. Louis Rams? Or how the Giants ended the Patriots’ perfect 2007 season? Or Patrick Mahomes’ game-winning drive in overtime against the 49ers? NFL football is so demanding a sport that players and teams must jockey for even the smallest edge to gain success. This new weight-lifting regimen; that extra two-minute drill; cutting-edge sports nutrition; hyperbaric chambers. Although I’m seriously conflicted about CTE and the other injuries within this sport, I’m not embarrassed to say that I love football because there is nothing like watching elite athletes working as a team to achieve their highest goal. As Eagles head coach Nick Sirianni said after the game, “This is the ultimate team game and it takes selflessness.”
My love for the game itself is also reason for my annoyance over the ever-increasing spectacle surrounding it. We’ve long been used to over-produced halftime shows, but now they are so expected that they seem unspectacular. Increasingly the producers amp up other bits. This year we had Brad Pitt, Lady Gaga, Samuel L. Jackson, Tom Cruise—all immediately recognizable global superstars. Not to mention the celebrity announcer Tom Brady, selected not because he’s a good commentator but because he’s the undeniable GOAT of football. (Weird observation: Brady sported a $600,000 watch but couldn’t seem to figure out how to wear a T-shirt like a normal human being.) “Production quality” is the real name of the game. As I waited impatiently for the kickoff through a jazzercised national anthem, all I could think was how much I dreaded the obligatory Taylor Swift shot, and positively loathed the idea of a Travis Kelce proposal at the end of a Chiefs’ threepeat. Please, anything but that.
We were spared that spectacle. We witnessed instead what nobody—and I mean nobody—expected: The Philadelphia Eagles completely routed the Kansas City Chiefs. At halftime the score was 24-0. In the beginning of the fourth quarter, the score was 40-6. It was a boring game for everyone except elated Eagles fans and the shell-shocked Chiefs Nation. I was disappointed until I remembered that this is what makes live sports irreplaceable: The outcome cannot be scripted.
The sociologist Hartmut Rosa explains that unpredictability is why live sports provide resonant experiences for us. The thrill comes from “witnessing the unfolding of a unique and unrepeatable moment in time. The potential for the extraordinary is always present, creating a sense of anticipation and wonder.” When you put the best two teams on the field in the biggest game of the year, almost anything can happen. Live sports also remind us that we can’t control outcomes. No matter how hard we work or how careful we are, human life is lived with massive contingency. And thank heavens it is. Otherwise, we could not possibly understand our need for grace. And it would be truly boring. “The unpredictable nature of sports mirrors the unpredictability of life,” Rosa continues. “It reminds us that even in the face of careful planning and preparation, chance and circumstance can play a decisive role. This recognition can be both humbling and exhilarating.”
Ultimate control of any outcome is an illusion. All we can do is pursue excellence within our unique vocational giftedness for the brief time given to us. For NFL football players, that time is achingly short, and most of them are too young to grasp the momentousness of their opportunities until it’s too late. But the effect of watching these athletes play at this level should remind us that we all fail to grasp the momentousness of our opportunities every single day. The opportunity inherent in every human life—to be excellent and do good things together for a goal greater than ourselves—is a gift.
It is the gift. It is what we were made for, and we frankly don’t have much time here to do it. This is why I love the fact that the NFL considers the Walter Payton Man-of-the-Year Award to be its most prestigious honor. The award is given to a player for exemplary character and service both on and off the field. It is given for fighting for others in the trenches. I refuse to be cynical about this. I believe that most coaches and many owners and players understand that football is a billion-dollar industry that rewards winners and punishes losers. But the very best, like Walter Payton, remember that the desire for excellence in this game, as in any worthwhile human endeavor, can inspire individuals to give more to the world than they take from it. It can inspire magnanimity—greatness of soul. It can inspire individuals to take responsibility for the team—and maybe even to recognize that all of us are on the same team.
I’m not naïve. I’m not saying that sports necessarily inspire magnanimity. I’m only saying that they can. My favorite commercial of the night was for Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America. It featured players and some ordinary folks sitting with small groups of children, having them repeat after them sayings like: “I may be young, but I am somebody. I may be small, but I am somebody.” This is categorically not the same thing as telling young people, “If you dream it, you too can become famous. You can be the Super Bowl MVP one day!” The lesson here is that you—the person you were made to be—is what matters. This ad was particularly impactful because Super Bowl LIX wasn’t won by the named MVP, Jaylon Hurts. It was largely won by the lesser-known players on the Eagles defensive line. Probably the most important person in the stadium was Vic Fangio, their coordinator, a name fans alone know.
Yes, this is a unique situation. These men are outrageously gifted at one specific thing—football—and football is just a game. But the greatest lesson of the game of football is that we win when we help others to be the best that they can be.
True magnanimity requires humility—I must fully understand that it is not all about me. But it also requires the self-assurance that says, “I am somebody.” One of my favorite passages from the Gospels is when Jesus, “knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God,” got up and washed his disciples’ feet. True leaders are always humble servants because they know who they are and don’t need to prove it. They live their lives in order to give them away. It doesn’t matter if I’m a coach, an educator, a parent, or just a friend—I do my best when I’m in the trenches with you. My greatest joy will be to watch you become the person you were meant to be.
When I do that, we both win.
Christina Bieber Lake is the author of Beyond the Story: American Literary Fiction and the Limits of Materialism. She is a Contributing Editor for Current.