It's Just a Game

I woke up this morning and was surprised to see the sun shining. I thought for sure that it wasn't going to come out today.

When I turned on the TV, I immediately turned to the news. I wanted to see what country had declared nuclear war on us. I was certain that it was just a matter of hours before Armageddon would start and the end of the world was at hand.

Surprisingly, there was no mention of any sort of nuclear weaponry whatsoever. Instead, the top story was about Ariel Sharon being hospitalized. Go figure.

I then opened up my Bible. I wanted to look up John 3:16. I was expecting it to be no longer there--erased over night. I was half-surprised as I flipped through my Bible to the verse to even find that my New Testament still a part of it. I had a feeling that it might have decided to jump ship. But no, it was still there, and as I turned through John, the hole that I thought would be in place of 3:16 wasn't there. Instead, there was the verse, same place it had ever been. Jesus, it turns out, still saves.

In fact, today was just about like any other day I had ever faced before. No end of the world. No catastrophic event. Just a normal Thursday.

Not surprised? Then you obviously weren't around a bunch of USC fans last night.

Yesterday I attended the Rose Bowl game between Texas and USC. I went because this entire season I have been following USC football.

Actually, following is not the right word. I have been engrossed. Engulfed. Consumed. I live in San Francisco, and work in a job that commonly requires me to work weekends. And yet I made it to every home game in Southern California except for one. It didn't matter how little sleep I had gotten, or what time I had to wake up to get to a flight. It didn't matter that I was in New York the morning of one game, and took a 6:30 am plane trip to make it. I risked my reputation at my job, my health, and my general, overall well-being and disposition to watch a bunch of people play football for an entire season.

And when we went the whole season undefeated and got a bid to the championship game, why I would have sold most all of my possessions for a pair of those tickets. I ended up nearly doing that--paying close to $2,000 for two. You would have thought that my entire self worth was wrapped up in that game--and it nearly was.

And then the game came. And it was a great game. One for the ages. A frustrating first half gave way to a shoot-out in the second. We scored, and then they scored, and then we scored again. Finally we started to break away. And with five minutes left in the fourth quarter, we were up by twelve.

Why, they should have handed us the championship trophy right there. After all, who could blow a twelve point lead with five minutes left? The game was about over in my book, and I was already thinking about how I would gloat at work that next day.

But then the unthinkable happened. They scored, and were within five points of us. We got the ball again, and started marching it down the field. We were doing pretty good, but got halted. And with about two minutes left, we were fourth-and-two. All we had to get was two yards, and the game would be over.

We were inches short.

Texas got the ball. And they marched down the field. Time was running out on them, but it didn't matter. We could not stop them. There were twelve yards from the end zone. Fourth and five. One last play. And with thirty seconds left...

You would have thought that instantaneously every Trojan fan in that stadium had just heard that their mother had died.

No, I think they would have rather heard that than what they did hear: the roar of 30,000 screaming, overjoyed Texas fans.

A few minutes later the Texas team was on the field, receiving the crystal football. And you can bet that more than one USC fan was calculating the risk-reward ratio of running onto the field and grabbing that trophy out of the presenter's hand.

And I stood there, watching that scene before me, a revolutionary thought immediately started to make its way into my head. I felt dirty thinking it, and immediately tried to push it out. But it wouldn't leave. And after a futile attempt to try and resist it, I finally gave up, and let it enter in:

It's just a game.

Yep, that's right. You heard me. It's just a game. It's all a game. A game we lost, mind you, but a game nonetheless.

The world keeps on spinning. The sun, I found out today, keeps on rising. And Jesus keeps on saving.

It's just a game.

I realized, in that moment, how completely out of whack my perspective has been these last six months. I was able to see nothing but Cardinal and Gold. I had wrapped so much of myself into this season, that it's all I was becoming identified by. And it was time for me to stop.

Trojan fans might get mad at me for saying that. One, in fact, was so upset at my sudden positive disposition after the game that he told me that it "wasn't the same" with me, because I hadn't been as "into it" as he was, and didn't have "as much emotionally invested into it" as he did. Last time I checked, he knew the same number of football players that I did--zero--so that makes perfect sense. But he wasn't the only one. People all around were shocked that I could even breathe after that game, let alone joke around.

But I can see where they're coming from. I mean, after all, we lost. And so I'm supposed to be devastated, right? I'm supposed to be depressed over the next three weeks, and talk about how we were robbed, and hang my head low. That is what a true Trojan fan is supposed to do, right?

If that's what I'm supposed to do, then count me out. Don't get me wrong, I was disappointed, and more than once caught myself thinking "what if." But I refuse to let my sense of self come from the outcome of how a bunch of people I don't even know play a football game.

Attitude is a choice, and I simply do not want to choose to be downcast over the final score of a game. What good does that do to me? How does that help me function better in life? Maybe that attitude doesn't make me as good of a Trojan fan as every one else, but they're all a pretty miserable lot right now, so I don't know if I really want to be associated with them anyway.

There are more important things to life than football, I finally realized, and I am choosing to set my focus on those things. This world keeps on spinning, and I'm going to keep on chuggin' along. Tomorrow, I will look at the sun be thankful once again for it. And I'll appreciate that we're not in a nuclear showdown right now. And I will praise God that John 3:16 is still a part of my Bible. And when Trojan fans decide to come around, I'll be sure to welcome them, with open arms, back to the real world...

...a world where football is just a game, and Jesus keeps on saving.