10/25/23
I’ve learned in my travels that one cannot escape SEC football. I was on a ferry to Patmos, the island where John wrote the book of Revelation. We not only visited the island, but (if tradition can be trusted) we also visited the very cave where John lived when he wrote the book, AND saw the spot where he slept AND the crevice in the wall that his hand grasped when he raised himself up from the floor . . . whether or not any of that is true (do I sound skeptical?) it was still amazing to visit the island.
But. On the way over, the fella sitting next to me, who was wearing a University of Alabama t-shirt, struck up a conversation with some fellow pilgrims from Georgia. Were they talking about Patmos? Were they talking about the book of Revelation? Were they talking about being faithful until death? Or the singing around the throne? Or even what the crown on the head of the locust in Revelation 9 symbolized? No! They were talking about college football.
You cannot escape it.
Back in 2007, during my first visit to Jerusalem, two of us were sitting in the hotel café, and my friend noticed the woman at the table next to us wore a Florida Gators’ jacket. He struck up a conversation with her about college football. I thought . . . well, this isn’t exactly what I thought, but the essence of it was that I had not landed in Heaven.
But wait! There’s more! Our server in that same Jerusalem cafe, this beautiful, dark-haired, dark eyed Palestinian girl, turned to us and said, “What can I get y’all?”
Y’all?!? I asked her, “What do you mean . . . y’all?” And she laughed and told us she was from Austin, was a Texas A&M graduate, and was now studying at Hebrew University. Gig ‘em! (or whatever)
But for me, the Supreme moment occurred in the old city of Jerusalem. We finished up our visit at the church of the Holy Sepulcher, one of the most holy sites in all of Christianity, if not the holiest. We walked across the plaza, turned left, and then after a long block turned right, entering an ancient bazaar. As we turned the corner, we couldn’t miss this:
Just a short distance from here, you make another right, and you reach the Western Wall of the Temple Mount, the most holy spot in all of Judaism. But in the middle, between the holiest spot in Christianity, and the holiest spot in Judaism, stands this shrine to the religion of the south: Alabama football.
The owner, by the way, was a University of Alabama graduate, who had lived in Huntsville for a while, and when he moved back to Jerusalem, he missed the culture . . . so he started his own Alabama store.
On a side, but related, note: on my drive home was this beautiful, grassy hill on the southside of Pepper Road. I loved that hill - it was the most beautiful part of my drive. You cross two creeks, with trees covering the roads . . . perfection, especially this time of year. Part of the field has been sold (and ruined) by turning it into another housing development. Today, as I passed it, I saw that they have named the drive turning into the new development . . . Saban Lane. Yes. That Saban.
Even though I went to Alabama my freshman year, saw Bear Bryant in person, knew some of his family in Moro Bottom, Arkansas, and even, for a little while OWNED one of his signature hats, Alabama football was never a big part of my life. In contrast, my brother is a HUGE fan. He had season tickets for several years, but it was during a losing streak in the late 90s when my brother realized his mental well-being was too tied to the Tide’s rise and fall . . . so he gave them up.
Don’t misread me (and I hope you all take this in the spirit of fun I intend it); I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with college football. Be a fan. Go. Wear the gear. Enjoy it. Roll Tide. Fight, Tigers, Fight. War Eagle. Go Dawgs. Geaux Tigers.
But balance is important in everything. For some, SEC football is almost a religion (I doubt that’s true for anyone reading this, but you probably know someone), and if you know the roster of players better than you know the roster of disciples, if you know the words to “Dixieland Delight” but don’t know the words to “Joy to the World,” or if the first thing you think of when you hear the phrase, “Hail Mary” is of a last ditch, long forward pass, should you maybe rethink your values?
Of course, as I write this I’m carefully laying aside the first stone; whenever one of the local theaters shows a classic movie, don’t mess with me! Or when I come across a signed first edition of my favorite book, I might do without a meal or three (but I try my hardest not to order it on a Sunday morning). Have I mentioned Beethoven?
We all have our favorite diversion, our passion . . . our “thing.” Just don’t let any “thing” be too distracting, controlling, time-consuming nor let it become an idol in any sense.