Madness

After hours of research (which will become null and void minutes into the games today), here are my picks ... 

Behind Every Great Team

Many people know that I loathe the New England Patriots. I have said as much as they have humiliated the Indianapolis Colts on several occasions in recent years. Anything that destroys hopes is vile. So you might very well imagine who I am rooting for this upcoming weekend in the Super Bowl: yes, the Giants. I hope that they shatter the last eight months of perfection with one evening of humiliation. At least that is what I tell people.

The truth is that my attitude towards New England is more like fear and a quiet sense of awe. The few games I have seen them play this season have made me realize that this is probably the greatest football team of all time. And, as a football fan, I have to appreciate that ... even if it their greatness comes at the expense of my hometown team.

I have also seen enough Patriots games in the Belicheck era to know that they have an aura of mystique about them: the improbable win against St. Louis to win the first Super Bowl, the way they play with New England ice coursing their veins, the unnatural way Tom Brady can kill you over and over again when it counts, the Cro-magnon fleet of linebackers who defy the laws of natural aging in arriving in the "a" gap on the goaline to crush your hopes of scoring a touchdown. They seem not capable of losing, which is why the last two years are such aberrations. Who knew Brady could throw an interception to end a season ... twice! Achilles does have a heel.

But not this year, and - for that matter - not 90% of the time. And, today, I discovered the secret to the Patriots' strength. Read this article; then you will know too. This is the sort of story that seems almost too incredible to be true. And, my favorite part: Ernie Adams' top five books of all time - including Robert K. Massie's Nicolas and Alexandra.

Somebody kidnap this guy before Sunday. That would be the greatest sports conspiracy of all time!

Wes

Michael Vick

Of all the lousy, shameful sports stories to emerge this summer, I've been following the Michael Vick story the closest. I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it is because of a long personal fascination with black athletes (beginning with Michael Jordan) and - at the same time - a sadness and revulsion about the personal moments of utter failure: Jordan's long-recorded gambling addiction and infidelity, Kobe Bryant's sexual assault, Barry Bond's immense and intolerable ego. Maybe it's just the lure of an "Achilles" tale, of a demi-god who seemed to have it all but for the minor fault that brought him down.

Maybe you've read some of the news stories about what Michael Vick is accused of: running and funding a dog fighting scheme, which includes the accusation of viciously killing pit bulls if they did not perform well in practices or fights. Perhaps you've seen the loud cries of PETA and other concerned advocacy groups on television. I tried to remain as objective as possible and chose to read the 18 page indictment. There is no way around it; if the events suggested are true, then Vick has some reckoning (even if that doesn't occur through a judge and jury).

While acknowledging the potential horrors committed, I also couldn't escape an underlying irony: the fact that there would be such outrage and shock over an star football player engaged in brutal acts given that the very culture of professional football is brutal and violent. I also couldn't believe there wasn't anything written about how much race plays into this story ... until I read the following story at ESPN.com. Hopefully, you'll find this story worth your time. I think it's an important voice in this whole Vick drama:

A History of Mistrust by Wright Thompson

Wes

Calendars

As I was enjoying the fresh sounds of spring winds blowing in the newly sprouted leaves of our backyard, I realized how much I enjoy seasons ... again. It has been particularly nice to enter into spring. Tomorrow, the forecast is for thunderstorms.

Meanwhile, while enjoying the passing of time through seasons, I was reading a book discussing the church calendar, which is also meant to mark the passage of time and to help us find particular meaning in the seasons that unfold.

For thousands of years, human beings have enhanced the reality of their lived experience by setting time to seasons and specific occasions in the lunar, solar or agricultural cycle. Often, calendars are created to reinforce certain cultural beliefs - social, theological, political. The Gregorian calendar for instance is largely dependent upon Christianity and was begun to help fix the problem of when to celebrate Easter.

Today, however, I realized that my own sense of time has also been largely determined by two other calendars: scholastic and athletic.

I was particularly struck by how much sports dictates my understanding of time and seasons. For as far back as I can remember, my world rotates around football, basketball and baseball. But, those are not the only three. Various other sporting events mark other occasions on my internal calendar: the Masters in April, the "500" in May (which will probably become the "Derby" in May), Wimbeldon in July, etc. Then, of course, there are the leap year events (every four years): World Cup, summer and winter olympics.

I have noticed this more and more since deciding ministry will be my calling. Weekends are slowly (and sometimes painfully) being adjusted away from the learned calendar of sports to the somewhat foreign, but pleasing calendar of liturgy.

Still, I really don't quite get Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, ordinary time (1st), Lent, Easter, Pentecost, ordinary time (2nd). I would be ashamed with myself if I had this calendar planted in me long, long ago. But, in reality, the church calendar is like a new seed, a new rhythm I am hoping to conform to. Honestly, it's taking time.

In fact, most weekends, I struggle to forge new habits more in step with resurrection, waiting and birth and less in step with world champion, super bowl and October series. I find myself divided like St. Paul was: that which I want to do, I cannot and that which I hope to become, I fail to observe.

I am not alone in this. It is very American like me - considering that every major holiday now features some sort of sporting event: football on Thanksgiving, basketball on Christmas and Easter, baseball on the 4th of July and during the harvest of fall.

There's something else here: it may have been different when sports were a type of recreation in American culture. Nowadays, sports are entertainment, so every major season in our culture is marked by a type of "watched" (not participated) entertainment.

Perhaps that is why I have a hard time "getting" the church calendar; it demands more than my subtle, passive observation - say merely turning on the boob tube and laying down for two to three hours. To really feel the rhythms God has given to shape us (those that follow our more ancient cycles of nature) require a deeper observation and even participation.

It's really hard to learn a new rhythm on down the road of life.

Wes