From the Sidelines

The Sacred Nature of American Football

Written By: Victoria Radnothy

Illustration by Gab De Jesus

The salvation begins in the middle of nowhere important, Florida, where the field is in the bad part of town, infested with ant hills and perpetual mud puddles no matter the season. There are no pews — no bleachers. The congregation has to bring their own, which is really just picnic blankets and foldable camp chairs arranged on the home field side. It’s peace that surpasses all understanding to a religion that loves sports as much as their God.

The first service begins at eight on Saturday morning — the flag football team. The congregation is so good about bringing first-timers and spreading the faith in their community. Everyone is all dressed up in Mother Mary blue and halo gold.

The coaches are the elders — the most dedicated to the church. Staying all day, through every service. Providing wise counsel to young believers, helping them on their walk.

Stand up, greet the neighbors, and shake hands to introduce each other because this is where family is found.

With like-minded people who might not look the same but everyone has the same heart, brought the same cowbells to ring and pom poms to wave at every first down. Everyone is welcome here, even the opposing team.

Each service tells a different story. One where David, the underdog team still growing into their shoulder pads, beat Goliath. Glimmers of the championship is the promised land, flowing with milk and honey.

These football games are attended more frequently than Sunday morning church in this town. It’s the most vital way to get involved — to build community. Worship together to the home team chants and fight songs. Celebrate victory over sin when they get a touchdown or make a field goal. The cheerleaders are the angles, or perhaps the temptation. Spiritual warfare erupts when two teams go into overtime, leading to an eventual nailbiting conclusion. Hell is when they lose. Heaven is when they win.

But don’t worry. It’s not only on Saturdays. Where pastors ask for their congregation to take the sermons’ lessons into the rest of their weeks, football fans do this best.

Written by Victoria Radnothy Illustration by Gab K De Jesus

Bible studies and small groups are based around fantasy football leagues and throwing some burgers on the grill. Men, women and children gathering together, taking communion with sweet tea and corn on the cob.

It’s a religion that children rarely flee from after their parents drag them along to service. It’s a daily practice that doesn’t feel like a chore. A faith passed down from grandpa, the local team’s doctor. Then the father, putting his son in flag football then stepping in as a volunteer coach. His daughter and wife, cheering from the sidelines. This family takes pilgrimages to their parents’ alma mater around every Thanksgiving to the Big House (Go Blue). There’s more to be thankful for when Michigan beats their rival, Ohio State.

But the mission field is outside of this sacred place. Where opinions differ and community members reject their calling. They join the other church. The one in the better part of town where their facility — the baseball fields — are perfectly manicured, even in the off-season. There’s a continual outpour of tithes, and members never skip throwing a twenty in the diamond offering plate. In return, the members get nifty matching bumper stickers. And signs to display in their front yards.

The town accepts that church more — it’s shinier, prettier. The gold leaf equivalent. It’s nothing like the strange and radical church in the bad part of town during the fall season. But under the Saturday morning sun is where the most heart is. Where the members’ faith is on fire.

The end of the season is the Prodigal Son. Time to weep and mourn over a lost season, meeting its bitter end. The wait is dark, but there’s always hope with this kind of thing. And when the air turns crisp and school goes back into session. Believers welcome back the next season with arms stretched out wide. This calls for a celebration. Well done, good and faithful servant.