It's almost 11 pm on a Monday night and I am watching college football. I have work tomorrow, and I should be in bed, but I'm not. The Miami/Florida State Game is close, and that keeps me watching even though the combination of orange and maroon uniforms is quite visually distasteful.
Sports have always been important to me. Sports certainly ruled my young life. I did a few different sports when I was in elementary school and junior high (the term du jour for middle school back in the day) and then concentrated on swimming until the end of college. I am embarrassed to admit I picked my college based on the swimming program and my option to be a big fish in a moderately sized pond. I turned down my what I thought was my first choice because of the possibility that I might play second fiddle to another swimmer in my events.
In my 5 years at Penn State, I never missed a home football game and I never left any game early-not even some freezing, snow blinding November games (let's be honest: no real fan ever leaves a game early). Even now, sports get the best of me. In March, I am ruled by the television and the college basketball schedule. During the last summer Olympics, I took a week of vacation to watch sports. For real.
I'm as guilty as any crazy male pro football fan of teetering on the edge of worshipping sports, of making a god of athletics. And yet, when my daughter's lacrosse team announced fall practices every SUNDAY MORNING, I got irritated. Not even Sunday morning is sacred anymore. I commiserated over telling my daughter that she would simply not be able to make many of these practices. Sunday is God's day. Sunday is actually a day of rest for those in my family who don't work at a church.
And then she shocked me. She said no. She didn't want to do it at all. So we advised the coach she wouldn't be playing any fall lacrosse. This team costs a lot of money, money which we have already paid. This team gives my daughter access to college lacrosse coaches and first class goalie coaching. And she said no.
Because she doesn't worship sports. She really enjoys sports, and soccer is giving her great joy this year. But she doesn't make a god of sports. And she deeply values her ministry at church and the relationships she has there.
Should I feel pride that my daughter has learned something I wish I knew, or should I be ashamed that I'm still guilty of near-sports worship when she clearly has her priorities straight?
I feel a bit of both. And I'm going to bed. Uh oh, Miami's on their own 2 yard line...
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