Catholic Men Super guy Sunday

Feb 4, 2011

We’re coming up to Super Bowl Sunday, a time when men can be men without apology, gather with their buddies and beers and rip off some riotous whoops while rooting for their team. On this day, the whole nation affirms the fact that males are testosterone-driven beings who from the toddler stage tend to be aggressive, head-crashing gladiators.

Three cheers for the Super Bowl.

As the Steelers and Packers race onto the gridiron, not even the most radical feminist will point out that only men are on the field. Everyone admits that only guys are capable of playing this game (and crazy enough to do so), even if 99 percent of the men watching would be too soft or scared to jump onto the field. Hey, we all have played football as kids or as adult weekend warriors — in the backyard or on the beach, in the form of tackle, flag or touch. So we are members of that proud guild of men who have tackled or been tackled, or at least have held the semi-sacred, odd-shaped ball in our hands.

“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” is the Shakespeare line that resonates most with us.

Football, more than most sports, is teamwork. Let the star quarterback drop back without his linemen, or the golden-legged back run without his blockers. Hah! Games are decided on one player being in his position at the right time to make or break the big play. And then there is the clock — confining all action to a definite series of ticking moments that can never be reclaimed or replayed for real. It’s a lot like life, the competitive but time-limited arena in which so many men play out their professional and personal lives. Get ahead — smack! Make the cut — oomph! Get the raise, meet the deadline, get there first — crack, pop, splat!

Out on the field, we can really say it’s a man’s world. Even as we sit on the couch, we feel that we are appreciated for what is uniquely masculine.

Yet in another way, Super Bowl Sunday is the lazy man’s way to feel good about yourself or your manhood. There’s nothing wrong with the glory of battle and the thrill of victory, but there is life beyond — and above — this game that men play. If we revel only in the physical strength of the game, and the gift that our hormones bring, we are missing the meaning not only of competitive sports, but of life.

This Sunday the scoreboard will clearly announce a winner and a loser, but hopefully both teams will be able to say they played with respect for the indelible principles of manhood: honor, pride, self-sacrifice and sportsmanship — win or lose. Yes, win or lose. These are principles that set sports apart from mere brute battle or schoolyard bullying. With the intense TV hype and commercial buzz surrounding the Super Bowl, there is a danger that these principles may be submerged beneath a business ethic that values victory at any cost and the slick 30-second sales pitches that keep our minds focused on earthly goods.

The Super Bowl need not sing songs to the spiritual or the eternal to have value. Yet as an event that attracts the attention of millions throughout the world, it does have an obligation to elevate not just the emotions but also the thoughts and the imagination of viewers. Does the media package of recent years fulfill this calling? Or are teams treated more like corporate money machines? Are individuals — be they players, cheerleaders, or half-time actors — presented more as objects than as persons with inherent dignity?

Yes, there is great value in the game itself and the communal experience that builds unity among fans and across cultures, so that everybody wants to know who won and what the score was. Yet we will gain the greatest good from the game if it causes us to inquire where the Super Bowl in our own lives lies. For most men, it is found in the family arena, in the home where they fill the role of husband and father — where it is no game.

As men, if we can put as much interest, effort and enthusiasm into the good of our families as we do into the Big Game, then this Sunday will truly be super.

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