The Games That Unite Us

There are few places left where more than one hundred thousand strangers can stand shoulder to shoulder and, for three hours, forget almost everything that divides them.

I've watched it happen inside LSU's Tiger Stadium. I've seen it during the World Cup. I've seen it in small-town high school gyms and Little League ballparks. Republicans hug Democrats after a touchdown. People who would never agree on politics high-five after a walk-off home run. For a little while, we become something larger than ourselves.

Sports have shaped much of my life. I played quarterback, catcher, and point guard. I later coached basketball while teaching English at my alma mater. Like many athletes, I learned lessons about discipline, teamwork, and perseverance.

But years later, I think the greatest lesson wasn't any of those.

It was unity.

To be sure, sports can also divide us. Rivalries can become bitter. Nationalism can overshadow sportsmanship. At times, violence follows. Yet despite these flaws, sports still reveal something hopeful - that people from different backgrounds can choose, if only for a moment, to celebrate as one.

Watching the FIFA World Cup this summer, I was struck by the passion of the fans. Forty-eight nations, speaking different languages and carrying different histories, all united behind a common hope. It reminded me of the Olympics. It reminded me that whether we cheer for a national team, our hometown, or our alma mater, sports have an extraordinary ability to make strangers feel like family.

I am encouraged by how race, gender, and even political boundaries seem to disappear when people come together to support "their" team.

The veteran sitting beside the college student.

The wealthy executive cheering next to the factory worker.

The immigrant wearing the same jersey as someone whose family has lived there for generations.

They cheer together.

They tailgate together.

They win together.

They lose together.

And, unfortunately, they usually blame the head coach when things don't go well.

I think it's the athletes themselves that have a lot to do with it - the training and sacrifices they must go through to reach the professional and even college level is remarkable.

But I find it's the stories about the players themselves that bring us together most. The human side, if you will. The one who grew up poor, raised by a single mother, who never knew his father, and who now gives back to the community he came from, giving hope to the kids who look up to him. Long before we admire their talent, we admire their humanity.

These stories, along with supporting something we believe in, bring us together. I have seen grown men cry - not only at a loss, but a win. Cry at the story of Coach Jimmy V, dying from cancer, telling them, "Don't give up. Don't ever give up."

And then the game ends, and the fans and players go home. We start to disagree again. About religion, country of origin, clothes, music, and on and on and on.

There are undoubtedly people in remote corners of the world who have never heard of LeBron James or Lionel Messi. But I imagine they play some sort of game themselves. And if I were a betting person, I'd wager that for an hour or so, they forget their differences too.

Perhaps we can all learn from the camaraderie of sports - people working together toward a common goal. Maybe we can carry a little of that into everyday life: a bit more tolerance, more acceptance, more grace toward those who see the world differently.

And yes, you can do this even if you're an LSU fan and your new neighbor is a Crimson Tide fan from Alabama. Or someone who votes differently than you. Or someone who doesn't look like you.

Perhaps that's why sports matter so much. Beneath the scores and championships lies something deeper: our longing to belong to something larger than ourselves.

Sports won't solve our divisions. They never were meant to.

But every Saturday in the fall, every Friday night under high school lights, every World Cup match, every Olympic Games, we are reminded of something easy to forget.

We already know how to come together.

We simply haven't figured out how to carry that spirit beyond the final whistle.

Maybe that's where the real work begins.

The miracle isn't that sports unite us. The miracle is that they remind us we were capable of unity all along.