I wrote this back in September for an online publication I like to read called the Burnside Writer’s Collective. They approved it for publication, but never published it. Since I wrote it about football and football season is now nearly over, and since the Gamecocks had a school record breaking season, I’ve decided to post my story here rather than let it lay to rest in the morgue of writings people will never read on my computer. This is the closest I’ll probably every come to writing about sports.

For the Love of What God Made

I’ve been a University of South Carolina (or as we say in these parts, “the real USC”) Gamecock fan for as long as I can remember. My father started taking me to football games when I was five-years-old. Gamecock fans are known for their devotion through thick and thin. During most of my time as a fan, I became accustomed to cheering for a team that was anywhere from mediocre to downright awful. The Gamecock motto has always been “Wait till next year!” Longtime fans greet every new season with cautious optimism. We’re like a lover who has been jilted one too many times, but refuses to give up on the notion of love all together.

I can remember when Lou Holtz signed on to coach the team in 1999. Holtz was to be our saviour. In his first year, the Gamecocks went 0-11. To his credit, Holtz turned the team around and led the Gamecocks to victory in two consecutive bowl games against Ohio State. Despite his success, Holtz’s time as Carolina’s coach was overshadowed by an on field brawl against in state rival Clemson University, and a team of thugs who would soon greet new coach, Steve Spurrier with a string of felonies, leading to arrests, suspensions and dismissals from the team.

The “Ol’ Ball Coach” has had his work cut out for him and it has taken years to weed out the mess. With a trip to the SEC Championship last year, Gamecock fans are starting to think that we might be encroaching on the all elusive “Next Year.” After some great recruiting, Carolina now boasts talents named Marcus Lattimore, Alshon Jeffery, Jadeveon Clowney and Melvin Ingram. There’s something different with these guys, something that the “almost” talents of the past never possessed. They seem to enjoy what they’re doing. There is an air of gratitude for being able to play college football instead of a sense of entitlement. After the game against Vanderbilt University this year, Melvin Ingram was asked if he was enjoying the season. He responded, “I love football. God put it here, and I love to play so why not have fun while you do it.” (gamecocksonline.cstv.com/sports/m-footbl/recaps/092511aab.html)

That’s it. These players love the game and they want to win, and not just win to get a trophy or make it to the NFL, they want to win because that’s the goal of the game. They will put forth every effort for the game for which they’re passionate. As I’ve reflected on this new Gamecock team versus the old one, it has lead me to reflect on our lives as human beings in general. Our actions and results display our true loves.

In the Christian faith, we talk about love so often that we rarely stop to reflect on what it means. It gets thrown into the pile with other church words like “sanctification,” “abide,” “grace,” and “edification.” It is a much spoken, yet rarely lived in full concept. The extreme example of that are the Legalists, the ones who go to church and follow the rules because that’s what they believe that they’ve been commanded to do. In the end, they figure their reward will be Heaven and God’s blessing. Like the old Gamecock team, they have seasons of mediocrity, of almost victories because playing the game offers them some sort of reward, trophies to affirm how important they are or higher status among their circle of people. Fighting to receive all the reward they can for themselves, they miss the greatest reward of all, the love and passion of God.

The funny thing is, if they would embrace God, they would likely receive all they are aiming for and then some. The players who are on the field out of love don’t have to worry about their insecurities and see no need to pass judgments on other players. They’re too focused on the task at hand to worry about the actions of others. Sure, there’s accountability within the team, but accountability that uplifts instead of tears down. The focus carries off the field where the players abide by the rules, not just because they “have to” but to not jeopardize their love. Practice is a privilege and discipline is second nature.

While I used an example of the extreme, the rest of us aren’t immune to loveless duty. It might not manifest itself in as obvious ways as the Legalist, but even the best of us can lose sight. Perhaps we serve so much that we start to feel like our communities couldn’t function without us. It can be easy to slip into the “star player” mentality. Though we know to never say that we’re better than other people, sometimes when we look at certain people, you know the ones, the weak links who tend to drag the team down, those less desirable players, we believe that we are better. This attitude can rise in the quiet of our hearts without others knowing. For instance, I’ve woken early to go to a service project on a Saturday morning and quickly noted who wasn’t there and thought, “I’m here so why aren’t they getting up early to do this?” Unchecked, this attitude will reduce a great player down to mediocrity.

When we passionately love Christ, the commands aren’t such a burden, but a blessing. Our desire is His heart and we don’t want barriers between. Acts of service overflow from our love and fear dissipates, leaving room for acceptance of others. When love is the focus, our disciplined lives bring more freedom than we could ever imagine. It doesn’t mean that we never face temptations or that we won’t fail. I’m sure even the most passionate football player gets distracted by the flashing lights every now and then. Immediate gratifying victory isn’t always promised either. The difference is, when the game is over, no matter what the outcome, the love still remains, and that’s something that no opponent can take away.