Because of Sports
Sports have the power to bind communities together. They join strangers in moments of celebration or shared disappointment. They showcase the limits of what the human body can accomplish and stun us with unbelievable feats of finesse, perseverance, power, grace, or agility. Gabby Douglas, Joe Montana, Muhammad Ali, Lou Gehrig, Jesse Owens.
Colleges have seen applications go up because of sports. Friendships have turned into marriages because of sports. Wars have been put on pause because of sports.
Sports have the power to tear people apart. They divide states, cities, neighborhoods, families based on allegiance to an officially-licensed color palette. They push athletes to the edge of what the human body can accomplish - and over it. Lance Armstrong, Barry Bonds, John Rocker, Joe Theismann. Former stars have been destroyed: Junior Seau. Donnie Moore. Dave Duerson.
Lives can become legend because of sports. Lives can become a living hell because of sports.
The business of professional and big-time amateur sports has been examined under a super-charged microscope. The litany is depressing and familiar: the NFL's disregard for player safety for so many years; the NCAA's billions of dollars in revenue on the backs of unpaid college athletes; the steroid problems that racked baseball, track and field, cycling, and more; the vast and self-sustaining corruption machine that is FIFA. These are all real problems without easy solutions, and being a sports fan in the 21st century necessitates turning a certain blind eye to the underbelly of what makes the games possible.
But these questions all make the central assumption that we care that the games we watch are fair, equitable, a force for good (or at least, not evil.) And it is easy to get jaded - many simply don't care about a bunch of high-priced millionaires trying to put a ball in a net more times than another group of millionaires, and others find it hard to flip on ESPN without feeling overwhelmed by the hypocrisy and lack of perspective that Sunday mornings might be dedicated to something other than tailgating. Maybe you miss the days when pro football players sold cars during the offseason to make ends meet, or maybe the latest tax grab to build a Temple of Sport funded by taxpayer money for the benefit of a private ownership group inspired you to donate your team-branded apparel to the nearest Goodwill.
(If you did, no one would blame you.)
On September 23, 2012, Lance Easley was healthy, happily married to his wife of 26 years, a mid-level executive with Bank of America, and about to become the laughing-stock of America. With the National Football League unable to reach a contract agreement with its usually gang of zebras, Easley was one of the couple dozen replacement referees brought in to officiate the first weeks of the season. As the clock expired on a nationally-televised Monday Night Football game in Seattle, Wash., the newcomer's inexperience showed.
As a Seattle native, I can't find it in me to say they got the call wrong, though I have to admit the evidence of a Green Bay possession would probably win over a jury in a court of law. Thankfully, we didn't have to worry about the law, since it was the end of an NFL game, and the Seahawks claimed a 14-12 victory.
From the national outcry, one could be forgiven for thinking that Easley had misinterpreted Caesar's thumbs-down and executed the wrong gladiator on national TV. President Obama took a break from his re-election campaign to weigh in, calling the decision "terrible." Ashamedly, the NFL reached a hasty deal with the regular referees and the season continued. Football continued. For the rest of us, life continued apace, but not for Lance Easley.
Threatened, bullied, harassed, mocked, Easley sought to make the best of a bad situation, writing a self-help book sharing the lessons he learned, being painfully open with the press, even returning to Seattle to serve as the guest umpire at a charity softball game. But it wasn't enough. Easley had struggled with depression through his life, so we can't say that being on the receiving end of the ultra-saturated limelight of the most harshly-criticized call in recent NFL history directly caused his downward spiral, but it can't have helped.
Today, the game he loved is nothing more than a constant reminder of a split-second decision gone infamously wrong. He suffers from panic attacks and suicidal thoughts. And his marriage of 28 years is ending.
Divorce is an all-too-common occurrence, and a deeply personal one - few of us know Easley personally and none know all the circumstances that led to the decision. But a marriage that brought life into the world, that shared 28 years of joys, sorrows, laughter, and weird inside jokes, will soon be no more. Two people who pledged to be together in good times and in bad are now struggling through the tragedy of negotiating a life without the companionship, support, and quiet strength that marriage can bring.
Lance Easley is left to face his demons without his companion of nearly three decades. Because of sports.
Most people probably didn't angrily e-mail or call Lance Easley after the questionable decision. I'd wager the number of people who made snide comments upon running into him at an airport was relatively low. And, again, there were deeper underlying tendencies that doubtless contributed to his current state.
Yet the internal pressure which caused Easley to combust is not all self-driven. Our culture of outrage, of seeing people on TV or the internet as digital personas rather than fellow humans, made it acceptable for the few who did send ill wishes his way to do so. As sports has become reality TV, they are no longer entertainment - they are life.
Controversy has existed in sports since the North Cairo Asps notched a disputed sand-hockey victory over the East Abyssinia Bronzeskins (later renamed Bronzeworkers out of sensitivity to native populations) in 2,000 BC. But with the proliferation of media outlets, increased sponsorship opportunities, and the loss of the understanding of sports' relative importance in society (i.e. below politics, above the fashion section), athletes are no longer mere mortals that aspire to greatness. They are brands. They are gossip column fodder. They have become like gods.
Lance Easley flew too close to the sun. To the chorus, his fulfillment of a lifelong dream - to referee on the biggest stage - was a shameless act of breathtaking hubris. One mistake and a failed recovery later, and his marriage is in shambles. Not because of sports - but because of what sports says about us.
So, why do we watch? To the converted (or addicted), the answer is obvious - the moments of agony, ecstasy, comradeship, heroism, integrity, beauty. Perhaps in an age when wars are fought half a globe away and heroic virtue seems in short supply in our officeholders and institutions, the mock-battle of the gridiron or the teamwork on the diamond is the closest we'll see first-hand to the power of human ingenuity and grit.
I'd like to close with a paean to the nobility of Little League baseball, small-town high school football, heck, even a weekend bowling league and the joy of playing "just for the love of the game." Yet it would be hollow. There is still something powerful - despite the human wreckage professional sports can leave in its wake - about an organized activity played at its highest level. A game-saving catch or a clutch pitch shot from the rough can inspire awe at what humans can do if we put our minds to it - and maybe get a little help along the way.
We'll never return to the days when a compliant press bowdlerized Babe Ruth's ravenous appetite for beer and women into gluttony for hot dogs and ice cream, just like the cozy relationship between the White House and the Fourth Estate that enabled John F. Kennedy's addition to opiates and philandering is gone for good. But the transparency that enables us to see the flaws of athletes and sports in general has been accompanied by a rise in prolonged adolescence that gives sports a place of pre-eminence that is far above its due.
So let's turn on the highlight reel and turn off the comment section. Let's talk about last night's game at the water cooler but change the channel from ESPN. When the refs blow an obvious call or a favorite player takes too long to recover from injury, let's remember that they have families and friends and emotions, and not talk about them like characters in a soap opera or video game.
We can find reasons to be outraged, we can treat others like objects, and we can place entertainment over lives, marriages, and relationships. Or we can learn a deeper level of empathy, build stronger connections with our neighbors and communities, and discover the beauty of poetry in motion and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Because of sports.
Colleges have seen applications go up because of sports. Friendships have turned into marriages because of sports. Wars have been put on pause because of sports.
Sports have the power to tear people apart. They divide states, cities, neighborhoods, families based on allegiance to an officially-licensed color palette. They push athletes to the edge of what the human body can accomplish - and over it. Lance Armstrong, Barry Bonds, John Rocker, Joe Theismann. Former stars have been destroyed: Junior Seau. Donnie Moore. Dave Duerson.
Lives can become legend because of sports. Lives can become a living hell because of sports.
***
The business of professional and big-time amateur sports has been examined under a super-charged microscope. The litany is depressing and familiar: the NFL's disregard for player safety for so many years; the NCAA's billions of dollars in revenue on the backs of unpaid college athletes; the steroid problems that racked baseball, track and field, cycling, and more; the vast and self-sustaining corruption machine that is FIFA. These are all real problems without easy solutions, and being a sports fan in the 21st century necessitates turning a certain blind eye to the underbelly of what makes the games possible.
But these questions all make the central assumption that we care that the games we watch are fair, equitable, a force for good (or at least, not evil.) And it is easy to get jaded - many simply don't care about a bunch of high-priced millionaires trying to put a ball in a net more times than another group of millionaires, and others find it hard to flip on ESPN without feeling overwhelmed by the hypocrisy and lack of perspective that Sunday mornings might be dedicated to something other than tailgating. Maybe you miss the days when pro football players sold cars during the offseason to make ends meet, or maybe the latest tax grab to build a Temple of Sport funded by taxpayer money for the benefit of a private ownership group inspired you to donate your team-branded apparel to the nearest Goodwill.
(If you did, no one would blame you.)
***
On September 23, 2012, Lance Easley was healthy, happily married to his wife of 26 years, a mid-level executive with Bank of America, and about to become the laughing-stock of America. With the National Football League unable to reach a contract agreement with its usually gang of zebras, Easley was one of the couple dozen replacement referees brought in to officiate the first weeks of the season. As the clock expired on a nationally-televised Monday Night Football game in Seattle, Wash., the newcomer's inexperience showed.
(Easley, R, signals a Seahawks touchdown as his refereeing partner signals a Green Bay interception. Easley's call would be upheld upon review.)
As a Seattle native, I can't find it in me to say they got the call wrong, though I have to admit the evidence of a Green Bay possession would probably win over a jury in a court of law. Thankfully, we didn't have to worry about the law, since it was the end of an NFL game, and the Seahawks claimed a 14-12 victory.
From the national outcry, one could be forgiven for thinking that Easley had misinterpreted Caesar's thumbs-down and executed the wrong gladiator on national TV. President Obama took a break from his re-election campaign to weigh in, calling the decision "terrible." Ashamedly, the NFL reached a hasty deal with the regular referees and the season continued. Football continued. For the rest of us, life continued apace, but not for Lance Easley.
Threatened, bullied, harassed, mocked, Easley sought to make the best of a bad situation, writing a self-help book sharing the lessons he learned, being painfully open with the press, even returning to Seattle to serve as the guest umpire at a charity softball game. But it wasn't enough. Easley had struggled with depression through his life, so we can't say that being on the receiving end of the ultra-saturated limelight of the most harshly-criticized call in recent NFL history directly caused his downward spiral, but it can't have helped.
Today, the game he loved is nothing more than a constant reminder of a split-second decision gone infamously wrong. He suffers from panic attacks and suicidal thoughts. And his marriage of 28 years is ending.
Divorce is an all-too-common occurrence, and a deeply personal one - few of us know Easley personally and none know all the circumstances that led to the decision. But a marriage that brought life into the world, that shared 28 years of joys, sorrows, laughter, and weird inside jokes, will soon be no more. Two people who pledged to be together in good times and in bad are now struggling through the tragedy of negotiating a life without the companionship, support, and quiet strength that marriage can bring.
Lance Easley is left to face his demons without his companion of nearly three decades. Because of sports.
***
Most people probably didn't angrily e-mail or call Lance Easley after the questionable decision. I'd wager the number of people who made snide comments upon running into him at an airport was relatively low. And, again, there were deeper underlying tendencies that doubtless contributed to his current state.
Yet the internal pressure which caused Easley to combust is not all self-driven. Our culture of outrage, of seeing people on TV or the internet as digital personas rather than fellow humans, made it acceptable for the few who did send ill wishes his way to do so. As sports has become reality TV, they are no longer entertainment - they are life.
Controversy has existed in sports since the North Cairo Asps notched a disputed sand-hockey victory over the East Abyssinia Bronzeskins (later renamed Bronzeworkers out of sensitivity to native populations) in 2,000 BC. But with the proliferation of media outlets, increased sponsorship opportunities, and the loss of the understanding of sports' relative importance in society (i.e. below politics, above the fashion section), athletes are no longer mere mortals that aspire to greatness. They are brands. They are gossip column fodder. They have become like gods.
Lance Easley flew too close to the sun. To the chorus, his fulfillment of a lifelong dream - to referee on the biggest stage - was a shameless act of breathtaking hubris. One mistake and a failed recovery later, and his marriage is in shambles. Not because of sports - but because of what sports says about us.
***
I'd like to close with a paean to the nobility of Little League baseball, small-town high school football, heck, even a weekend bowling league and the joy of playing "just for the love of the game." Yet it would be hollow. There is still something powerful - despite the human wreckage professional sports can leave in its wake - about an organized activity played at its highest level. A game-saving catch or a clutch pitch shot from the rough can inspire awe at what humans can do if we put our minds to it - and maybe get a little help along the way.
We'll never return to the days when a compliant press bowdlerized Babe Ruth's ravenous appetite for beer and women into gluttony for hot dogs and ice cream, just like the cozy relationship between the White House and the Fourth Estate that enabled John F. Kennedy's addition to opiates and philandering is gone for good. But the transparency that enables us to see the flaws of athletes and sports in general has been accompanied by a rise in prolonged adolescence that gives sports a place of pre-eminence that is far above its due.
So let's turn on the highlight reel and turn off the comment section. Let's talk about last night's game at the water cooler but change the channel from ESPN. When the refs blow an obvious call or a favorite player takes too long to recover from injury, let's remember that they have families and friends and emotions, and not talk about them like characters in a soap opera or video game.
We can find reasons to be outraged, we can treat others like objects, and we can place entertainment over lives, marriages, and relationships. Or we can learn a deeper level of empathy, build stronger connections with our neighbors and communities, and discover the beauty of poetry in motion and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Because of sports.