Are Sports Evil?
With this year's Super Bowl in hindsight, conservatives can now reflect on the nature of sports. Tertullian grants us some insight.
Nobody wants to admit this, so I will: Conservatives are divided on the issue of sports.
Conservatives who are against sports (not athletics themselves, which are good, but the spectacles and fanfare) generally lament them as a regime-orchestrated distraction. Sports, they argue, are designed to keep the attention of men — the essential demographic for political mobilization — away from the crimes of liberalism, and instead focused on trivial, simulated games.
“The government hates you, your wages are in the toilet, and instead of doing something about it — instead of paying attention to world events which are ruining your life — you fill your mind with useless stats about the Ravens” is the form that this argument tends to take.
I am not really a big fan of this critique. Obviously, I understand that hating ideas and not reading the news is bad, but this argument reads like that famous clip of Jaden Smith saying “Can we talk about the political and economic state of the world right now?” (🤓).
In our age of unending “yap,” where everybody feels like a self-styled political commentator, prioritizing rest from terminally political conversation is just what is needed, not lacking. In return, the sports-fan will defend their interest by pointing out the need for harmless hobbies, or simply by calling anti-sports camp a bunch of fake-deep dweebs who need to get a life.
Thus, the modern argument against sports does not sit with me. Sometimes, it is nice to not talk about the political and economic state of the world right now. Many anti-sports conservatives tend to squirm when anti-sports arguments are made publicly because they know that they are unpopular, and, in the case of the modern criticism, they know that they are geeky. This hesitation is understandable. If I genuinely believed that the world needed more terminally political drones, I would be embarrassed about it, too.
That being said, there exists an argument against sports-fandom, hailing all the way back to the 3rd century AD, which is not geeky. In fact, this argument is quite compelling, and must therefore be taken seriously. This Christian anti-sports argument comes to us courtesy of Tertullian, the famous Latin author of the Patristic Age. Tertullian’s arguments against the Roman circus, found in his treatise On the Spectacles, can be applied to modern sports fanfare.
The first part of Tertullian’s anti-sport argument is very Rome-specific, and does not seem applicable to the modern day. On the Spectacles begins with a thorough genealogy of the Roman games, claiming that they had their origins in sacrificial rituals to the Roman gods and have simply changed in appearance without shedding the “pomp of the Devil”.1
For example, he observes that modern circus’ ornaments smack of their idolatrous ancestor-services: he points out that the commonplace “dolphins spout water in honor of Neptune, [and that] the columns bear aloft images of Seia.”2 This specific criticism does not seem to apply to our modern games: the only reference to pagan gods in our games seems to be the prevalence of “Nike” (the Greek goddess of victory) apparel, and this certainly is not enough evidence of “unclean deities hav[ing] taken possession of the circus.”3
However, the second part of Tertullian’s is not era-sensitive, and applies to Roman chariot races just as much as it does to the NFL. He begins his argument by asking a simple question: What is it about attending a sports game that makes it pleasurable, exactly?
Tertullian paints a picture of this “pleasure” which could be perfectly applied to your average college football game. He describes how the crowd “await[ing] the [beginning of a race] with bated breath;” as they shout out “he has thrown it!” and “everyone tells everybody else what all of them have seen just that moment;” they “curse and insult” the opposing team; and how the whole stadium is overflowing with “outbursts of fury and passion and discord” at every play. 4
This feeling of getting lost in a heart-pounding adrenaline rush is summarized by Tertullian in one word: “frenzy.” The Greek god of this feeling, Dionysus, is the god of wine, festivity, and religious ecstasy; he is the god of “WOOOO!!!,” basically. If you have ever been to or watched a game (especially in the final quarter), you have felt the “frenzy” and know that it feels very good.
However, not everything that feels good is good. Tertullian believed that the “frenzy” of a sports game is incompatible with living a good Christian life. He states:
God has given us the command both to deal with the Holy Spirit in tranquility, gentleness, quiet, and peace, inasmuch as, in accordance with the goodness of His nature, He is tender and sensitive, and also not to vex Him by frenzy, bitterness of feeling, anger, and grief.5
According to Tertullian, a virtuous soul cannot participate in the Dionysian “frenzy,” where the crowd is “in violent commotion, blind, wildly excited over its wagers,” “saddened by another's bad luck, [and] rejoice in another’s success [a thorough rebuttal of the counterargument that the loyalty and love for a team makes the spectacles good].”6
Furthermore, it is impossible to attend a game “without [your] mind being roused and his soul being stirred by some unspoken agitation,”7 no matter how hard you try; you will be swept into the madness, too. Even a relatively moderate crowd, according to this argument, would be a near occasion of sin. Tertullian concludes that, at best, sports-spectacles are “things of this world,” and that ultimately, “the things of the world are the Devil’s.”8
Confronting this argument for the first time causes the five stages of grief to kick in instantly. First comes the denial that “Tertullian is speaking nonsense! Sports are just harmless fun. He is crazy!”; then the anger that “Who does this weirdo think he is!? Does he think he is above everybody else!? Why doesn’t he grow a pair?!”; then the bargaining of “well, he does have a point… how could the frenzy of Dionysus and the tranquillity of the Holy Spirit ever mix?”; then the depression of “there are no lies to be found in his argument… but… I like football games…”; to, eventually, acceptance.
Needless to say, watching a golf tournament on TV is not the same thing as the humongous, roaring-stadium sports spectacles that dominate American culture. Unlike Tertullian (who eventually fell into heresy because of his puritanical tendencies), we should be measured and sensible in assessing risk.
However, it is hard to refute Tertullian’s message: that the spectacles of today, like the ones in Rome, beg a deep cautiousness of Christians, lest we fall into frenzy.
The AdamoZone is a column by Luca Adamo, Vice President of Marketing and columnist at The American Postliberal. Published every Friday at 5:00pm EST. (Sorry for the delay this week!)
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Tertullian: Disciplinary, Moral, and Ascetical Works. Tr. Arbesmann, Daly, & Quain, The Catholic University of America Press, pg. 80.
Ibid., pg. 67
Ibid., pg. 69
Ibid., pg. 85
Ibid., pg. 83
Ibid., pg. 85
Ibid., pg. 84
Ibid., pg. 84
You lost me when you exempted golf, exclusively the game of the wealthy.