Last week, the Philadelphia Phillies clinched the Division Title and home field throughout the postseason...hooray! The excitement brews in South Philadelphia with people wearing Phillies hats & jerseys everywhere you look - lately I've seen more Shane Victorino jerseys in S. Philly than Italian flags. And yet, listening to the sports talk radio and television shows, all you see and hear is that the Eagles host the Washington Redskins and our former QB Donovan McNabb. The amount of attention that the Return of Donovan story gets borders on obsession.
Why do we care? Why should I care? The answers have to do with the ancient human practice of telling stories. Camp fire tales are probably as old as human civilization itself. They are fun and dramatic ways in which communities recount great feats: slaying of beasts (think Beowulf), making long journeys over treacherous ground (such as the Exodus), just to name two. The stories embody and perpetuate what is important to that group. In the modern world of hard-core sports fans, the local team IS the camp fire story of that community.
I'm a fan of pro baseball and football. I love to see the strategies that coaches use and then see how they play out on the field. It's also fun to follow a team over the years and observe how it builds the franchise. By following a team season after season, you get to know the players & coaches, see them perform on the big stage, and develop an affinity for them. When the TV showed the locker-room celebration, I not only felt happy for them but felt like I was part of it. Of course, this feeling of the team as an extended family, this faux intimacy, is part of the illusion that the sports and entertainment industry cultivates intentionally.
As much as I enjoy sports, I have to admit that I spend more time following this stuff than I should. Overall, our entertainment-dominated media puts way too much emphasis on these games, especially in the Philly market. What is the big deal?
The answer, in part, involves identity. There is a natural human instinct for people to congregate and form groups. Sports is another reason for people to do what our sociological instincts want us to do: form communities with a distinctive identity. In this town, Eagle green and silver color our jerseys. We have our Eagles chant, our multi-million dollar stadium ("the Linc"), and long-standing rivalries with the Cowboys, Giants, and Redskins.
Sometimes, however, cogs get thrown into our elaborate group identities. Enter Donovan McNabb, second pick of the 1999 NFL draft. The man had a great career as an Eagle, a far better career than any other quarterback drafted that year AND better than the vox populi choice, Ricky Williams. The Eagles had multiple winning seasons with McNabb behind center, consistently reached the postseason, won a half-dozen playoff games, and reached one Super Bowl. But - and this is a big "but" - they never got there and won it all.
Donovan has his flaws. He can be frustratingly inaccurate, throwing balls at receivers' feet or into the deflecting hands of defensive lineman. McNabb has always been a streaky player, and when he's in a bad streak, his throws are painfully off target. He is not and has never been an ideal fit to run a West Coast, quick-release offense, a style that his Eagle coaches prefer. Besides the on-field deficiencies, his off-the-field interviews leave some people cold. He veers away from the tough-guy, buck-stops-here, win-at-all-costs cliches. Instead he'll make cryptic and somewhat aloof statements that, when dissected by the media, can be described as passive aggressive and unbecoming of a leader. And once again, perhaps the biggest indictment against him is that he has yet to win a Supe. These are legitimate criticisms.
However, these concerns are not the full story. Never getting into trouble with the law or with the team, McNabb was a model citizen in Philly. He didn't take himself too seriously and was known to joke around on the sidelines, even in the huddles during the game, keeping he and his teammates loose. Some people interpreted that as immaturity, but that explanation doesn't jibe with his body of accomplishments. The guy often played hurt, most famously one year in Arizona he played an entire second half with a broken bone. His work ethic and training regimen was widely recognized as exceptional. Can anybody seriously question his toughness or his commitment to performing at a high level?
I respect McNabb and rooted for him as an Eagle. At the same time, I'm glad the organization decided to trade him. It was best for everybody that he get a fresh start elsewhere.
All week long, McNabb's return to town has been the big sports story, even overshadowing our clinching baseball team.
So why is this so damn important to so many people?
McNabb has always been a controversial figure in this town. His erratic performance on the field and distant personality off the field are contributing factors. But I believe that the biggest reason people don't like him is that he did not suck up to the fans. He would not tell us, game after game, how we are the greatest fans in the history of the Milky Way Galaxy. He did not crave the limelight. He didn't become "one of us," brandishing a football in one hand and a cheese steak in the other. Instead, he simply did his job with 100% focus and determination, otherwise keeping to himself.
Supposedly, he is sensitive to criticism. That may be true, but my reaction is whopdie-freakin-do. Earth to fan base: the Eagles drafted him to play quarterback. He's not the Sergeant Major of the U.S. Army. He's allowed to have normal human emotions and express them publicly from time to time. His $100 million salary doesn't mean that he's no longer human. The man played his heart out, but for whatever reason, the team never won a championship with him. Surely that's not all his fault. Surely it's not because the man didn't prepare hard enough. We cannot seriously believe that if he spent more time buying us drinks at Chickie & Pete's that we would have gone all the way.
While I do not deny his desire to win, I suspect that he does not derive his sense of self from the outcome of a game. McNabb is a professional. His relationship with Philadelphia was professional. I can understand why fans don't love him and prefer a different QB... although the Kolb/Vick saga is another story for another time...but that is no reason to hate McNabb, no reason to act uncivilly towards him, and no reason to talk/write about his legacy ad nauseam. And it's certainly no reason to join the "Boo Donovan" parade scheduled before Sunday's game.
I think that the unspoken sin of McNabb is that, holding the most visible position in Philadelphia sports, he did not affirm our illusion that sports matter. Furthermore, we harbor an unreasonable and unprovable belief that McNabb - personally - never delivered us the title we deserve. He never wrote the final chapter in our community narrative: we are champions.
I can't help but wonder: is there another way that we can feel like champions? Must our sense of self derive from the blocking and tackling, the ups and downs of an NFL season? More pointedly, must we have enemies to boo, villains in the form of division rivals and former players?
The desire to love, to be loved, and to feel important - these are totally appropriate and natural. The enjoyment of sports, I think, is a healthy excuse to build camaraderie, especially in a blue-collar town like Philly. We love the visceral action that football provides. We love the excitement and the drama; I think it's fair to say that we need the story. We want to feel good about ourselves. We want to be part of something special.
You know where I'm going with this! ...As an aspiring minister, I have to wonder how else can we make meaning for ourselves. I wonder if a spiritual community can tap into these needs, and if so, how. Maybe the church can learn a lot about how to serve the people by listening to these sports dramas such as the McNabb controversy. If we (the church) listen and observe ourselves (the sports fans), apply our imaginations, and pray for the Holy Spirit, perhaps the church can grow its flock.
Perhaps we can find new ways to tell our story as disciples of Christ, and also make new stories as an energized community, living as Christ taught us.
The Lord be with you.
E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!
And also with you.
A-L-S-O-WITH-YOU, ALSOWITHYOU!!!
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