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On November 10, my wife Carrie and I had opportunity to fly from L.A. to Tempe for a two-day trip revolving around nothing more significant than a college football game. For me it was a chance to see my alma mater and one time coach and for Carrie it was a chance to see her first live football game. The game itself wasn’t the prettiest, but we were pleased with the end result. Final score: Washington State 28 - Arizona State 16.
Though Carrie and I were at Sun Devil Stadium to watch a football game, watching the crowd around us proved to be a far more revealing experience. It was during the third quarter, with the score 14-9 Cougars, that the Arizona State quarterback fled the pocket, scrambled up field, took a hit, and laid the ball on the turf. With nothing but 27 yards of empty real estate in front of him, Cougar linebacker, Raonall Smith, scooped up the ball and proceeded untouched into the end zone. His score put the Cougars up 20-9 and set the table for one of the more abnoxious displays of human depravity.
Ironically, the outburst I speak of would never have occurred even ten years ago in the days before massive field side video boards. Nevertheless, the instant replay has become a thoroughly ingrained part of American sport, having now made its way to the stadium itself. There is a wisdom (and mercy) in sparing large crowds a controversial replay, but no such wisdom existed at Sun Devil Stadium. The ASU fans were given every opportunity to see the play over and over and over in painfully slow motion. Upon first showing it set off such a chorus of decibel shattering boos, that mere vocal protest soon became an insufficient outlet for the erupting ire. Before WSU could kick their extra point, play had to be halted while all around us debris pelted the playing field. Drinks, seat cushions, plastic bullhorns, cardboard disks...anything that could be thrown, it seems, was field bound. This, after all, was a monumental atrocity.
The replay made it clear that, though the quarterback’s hold on the ball was a precarious one, wedged between elbow and rib cage, his knees had in fact touched the turf an instant before the ball came loose. The hail of boos and expletives grew more savage as the minutes passed. In front of us men blew the refs away with mock machine gun gestures. “Knock his [expletive] head off and “Kill the refs” rang forth all around us. Many threatened them with post-game bludgeonings. A Cougar lineman, waiting for play to resume, got hit in the chest by a hurled water bottle while both coaching staffs (without the protection of helmets and shoulder pads) found themselves in the line of fire.
Such behavior isn’t surprising to me. Berating referees with scathing brutality is nothing new. They have long endured all manner of hatred and mistreatment. The verbal abuse they received at my own Christian high school was a shameful thing. I doubt I would have even bothered to stop and comment three months ago, but in the post 9/11 world, such a vulgar outpouring is particularly troubling. Is this the same group of people who arrived at the game sporting their “God bless America” and “United We Stand” bumper stickers? Is this the human spirit which is supposed to lead us forth from the ashes of terrorism into a brighter, more compassionate tomorrow? It is, and it won’t.
I don’t mean to single out the Sun Devil fans. I’m quite confident that Martin Stadium (where the Cougars reside) would have been just as ugly had the situation been reversed. It was only four years ago, in fact, that I found myself surrounded by similar rage. After WSU was apparently robbed of their final play in the 1998 Rose Bowl, the Cougar faithful manifested their displeasure with chants of “Bull...!, Bull...!” during the whole of Michigan’s trophy presentation. Bad sportsmanship is not confined to one team. It isn’t even confined to sports. Hate filled rhetoric has a far longer history than organized athletics.
The reason I expect such showings is because the whole of my world view is anchored on the biblical truth that men are wicked. I see it all around me and I see it in myself. On Saturday Carrie and I saw it in Tempe. What surprises me far more is when men so act and so speak with charity and compassion. This is what perplexes me in the aftermath of 9/11. How is it, if men are wicked, that we still find occasions of dramatic heroism, courage and sacrifice?
Well, there is a clue in the words of Jesus. While addressing his followers in Matthew 7:11 he says, “If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!” Notice that Jesus proclaims on no uncertain terms that men are evil. He also concedes that evil men nonetheless have the capacity to give good gifts. His argument goes something like this, “if evil men can give good gifts, how much more can a perfect God give good gifts!” Now let’s turn it around. Since God is able to give good gifts, it stands to reason that we who are made in His image, despite our depravity, also have some ability to give good gifts. There it is. The countless acts of courage and heroism which immediately rose from the ashes of 9-11 are evidence that we human beings are indeed made in the image of the one perfect Being. Despite our sins, we are image bearers.
This truth, however, poses a real danger if we wrongly assume that because evil men are capable of isolated moments of goodness that we have the potential in ourselves to solve our most basic problems. If that is our conclusion then we are desperately mistaken. For all the flag waving and good will of the last two months, it has done nothing to eliminate the deeper problem of human depravity. Increased patriotism couldn’t prevent thousands of fans from berating a poor referee for having the audacity to make a call that might have cost their beloved 4 and 4 Sun Devils a victory.
John Piper says it well in his book “Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ”. He notes, in a text which predates the World Trade Center disaster by four months, that, “horrific calamities in this world, no matter how painful, are not the greatest tragedy. Far greater is the failure to escape hell through repentance and faith (103)”. I concur and simply argue that the events which Carrie and I witnessed in Tempe point to a far greater tragedy than that which occurred in New York. The magnitude of 5,000 physical deaths cannot compare with even one spiritual death. Therefore, don’t look to the flag for rescue from the worst in human nature. It won’t work. Look to the cross where the worst in human nature was laid on Jesus Christ so that there could be a just foundation for our forgiveness and freedom. And once you’re freed from sin, you might even find it in your heart to deal compassionately with one of America’s most hated men...the referee.
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