"It's just a game." That single sentence changes the meaning of sports entirely. It's the sentence that makes the guys who go to stadiums with painted chests "idiots." It's what makes spending huge sums of money on tickets supposedly "ridiculous." It's what makes caring -- truly caring -- about sports considered "childish."
Those four words trivialize sports, making them something smaller than they are. "It's just a game" implies that when you gain some perspective, you'll realize that sports simply aren't that important, and that on the world's "priority totem pole," the rightful spot for sports is somewhere close to the bottom, alongside Monopoly and Clue.
There isn't a sentence in the English language that I hate more. Could it be more condescending? Could it be more demeaning? Could it be more wrong?
What invokes more passion in the average human being than sports? When a city's beloved team wins a championship, people flood the streets, honk their horns and hug strangers. Parents name their children after their favorite athletes. Some people are willing to fight -- and every so often kill -- to protect the honor of their favorite team. There's more emotion in Fenway during a Sox game than in a theater during a Shakespearean tragedy.
What is more popular? If you ask the average American who our secretary of state is, you are going to get a lot of blank stares. Ask the average American who Derek Jeter is and you are going to get a five-minute PowerPoint presentation on why he deserved MVP honors in 2006. Every child grows up wanting to play point guard for the Lakers or forward for Manchester United. Every child knows what a home run is.
What provides more common ground between people? If I, a young, white Jew from New York City, walked up to a 70-year-old black man on the streets of Johannesburg, all it would take is one mention of the South African Springboks' big win in the rugby world cup and I've got a new friend. Nothing can connect totally different people as easily.
Sports is an industry worth billions upon billions of dollars. The Redskins are worth more than some small countries (look it up). Athletes are paid like CEOs. Agents rake in fortunes. Broadcasters make a ton. We have sports television, newspapers, magazines, Internet sites, movies, books, video games, collectible cards and lunchboxes. In 1994, 45 million households tuned in to watch Tonya Harding battle Nancy Kerrigan. Last year, 48 million households watched the Giants beat the Patriots in Super bowl XLII. Like John Lennon once said about the Beatles, sports are bigger than Jesus.
As sacrilegious as it is, is there any doubt, on a global scale, that it's true? There are an estimated 3.5 billion soccer fans worldwide. In America, Sunday is no longer the Lord's day. Nope, it belongs to Adrian Peterson, Peyton Manning and Tom Brady (who just may be God himself). Sports aren't, and never were, just games, hobbies or pastimes. They represent a worldwide religion that's growing stronger with time.
Millions of children devote large portions of their childhoods to sports. They play Little League, Pop Warner and AAU. They follow their favorite teams with unflappable dedication. But when they start to grow up and realize that maybe they are going to be one of the 99.99 percent that can't play for a living, it's like they are expected to move on from sports. It's like they are expected to grow out of it because, well, you can't devote your life to "games."
It's that concept of "growing out of sports" that's crazy. The magnitude of sports on a global scale is so popularly underestimated, so constantly demeaned, that people are afraid to get too invested. But not me. I'm going to invest like it's Microsoft stock in 1986, because I love sports and I know literally billions of others worldwide do, too. That's not crazy. That's just good business.
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Gideon Jacobs is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at Gideon.Jacobs@tufts.edu.
