Author Archives: Stephen Copeland

Training Table — Pro Football (Week 9)

Posted on by
636

Monday

“Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.” Daniel 12:3

What Are You Teaching?

When you’re not the real thing, people know you’re not the real thing. The beginning of the 2012 NFL season will forever be marked/marred by its officiating—how replacement officials with little experience were called up to replace the NFL’s regular officials because of the officiating lockout. Coaches, players, media and fans could tell, by the replacement officials’ actions, that they weren’t adequately prepared for the NFL level.

Take the infamous Packers/Seahawks game, for example, and the replay we’ve seen thousands of times. By the referees’ actions, everyone could tell they weren’t the real thing. That’s not their fault. They never claimed to be. They were simply filling a hole. But the point is that the replacement officials’ actions cast a negative light on the NFL.

I want to be the real thing when it comes to my faith. I want what I believe to be backed up by action. In a recent sermon, well-known teacher and pastor of The Village Church, Matt Chandler said: “By your life and your actions, you are teaching people what you believe about God.”

I want my actions to cast a positive light on God, and I want my actions to teach people what I believe about God.

— Stephen Copeland, Sports Spectrum

Tuesday

“Then some Jews came from Antioch and Iconium and won the crowd over. They stoned Paul and dragged him outside the city, thinking he was dead. But after the disciples had gathered around him, he got up and went back into the city.” Acts 14:19-20

Stoned and Scarred

There was only one thing worse than the Thursday night game in Week 3, a 36-7 thrashing by the New York Giants over the Carolina Panthers, and that was Cam Newton’s reaction to it.

After his third interception of the game, he sat alone with a towel over his head. Panther wide receiver Steve Smith told Newton to stand on the sideline with the rest of his teammates. When Newton spoke to the media after the game, he pathetically pouted. Smith publicly called Newton out again.

One thing I like about Colts quarterback Andrew Luck is that he rarely hangs his head. Right after he throws an interception, he has seemingly already forgotten about it. He has a maturity about him that shows he is capable of leading a franchise.

I think my favorite “manly” story in the Bible is in Acts 14—when Paul is stoned, dragged out of the city, and proceeds to march right back into the city. He could have been overcome with fear. He could have been nursing his wounds. He could have been pouting.

But Paul, I think, had a few things ingrained deep in his mindset that allowed him to act and respond the way he did. He 1) Had a mission that trumped his emotion, 2) Grasped a heavenly home that trumped his earthly home, and 3) Understood that leadership meant thinking outside himself and his own pain.

— Stephen Copeland, Sports Spectrum

Wednesday

“Then Jesus declared, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.’” John 6:35

Cracked

I’m not sure if people realized New Orleans Saints head coach Sean Payton’s value before this season, or the value of a head coach in general, for that matter.

Sure, I think people thought the Saints may struggle this year because of their offseason turmoil, but at the end of the day, Drew Brees is still Drew Brees. I thought that all Sean Payton built could surely sustain itself for one year without him. But after a horrific start to the season, perhaps I was wrong. At this pace, the Saints won’t even finish .500 this year. At this pace (this was written after an 0-4 start) they may not even win a game. When the top of the Saints’ pyramid fell, it cracked everything else on the way down. Sean Payton’s absence affected everything.

I want God to be at the top of my pyramid, because, when He’s not, I’ve noticed that it affects everything else in my life. It all starts to crack. My perspective gets out of whack. I start losing. We were born as fallen, spiritual beings—with a God-shaped hole in our hearts that only God can fill—and when we don’t draw near to Him to fill it, it affects everything.

—Stephen Copeland, Sports Spectrum

Thursday

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” Matthew 5:13

Caterpillars Aren’t Evil

I remember one of my old bosses from college calling me into his office at the end of the school year, just days before being dismissed for summer vacation. His name was Chad, and he was wiser than 50 of me.

“Stephen,” he said to me, “When you come back to school next fall, I want you to be a different person.” He explained to me that, as Christians, we should always be changing. We should always be growing, learning. One month from now, I shouldn’t be the same person. One year from now, I shouldn’t be the same person.

Change doesn’t always mean there is something wrong. Does a caterpillar become a butterfly because being a caterpillar is wrong? No, a caterpillar grows into a butterfly. Change is positive growth. When we grow, we change. And change is good.

One of my favorite teachers, Matt Chandler, says this about being “salt of the earth,” as the Bible talks about: “It’s a seriousness about holiness that marks our lives with continual and habitual confession and repentance.”

One of the main storylines entering the 2012 NFL season, obviously, was Peyton Manning. His Week 1 victory landed him on the cover of Sports Illustrated and made the nation question whether the old Peyton Manning had officially returned.

I liked what Peyton said after the game. He talked about how he still had a long way to go, how he was still learning about the team and re-adjusting to the game. Yes, it was a great win. But he still needed to grow as a quarterback. He still needed to change. And so do we. Caterpillars aren’t evil. Butterflies are just better.

— Stephen Copeland, Sports Spectrum

Friday

“For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” II Timothy 1:7

A Distracted Mind

As always, the Philadelphia Eagles were a primary storyline entering the 2012 season. Will quarterback Michael Vick stay healthy? Will the Eagles live up to the infamous “Dream Team” comments made a year ago? Can they win a Super Bowl? Will they even make the playoffs?

Three games into the season, Vick had turned the ball over nine times, which resulted in a national media storm questioning whether Vick and the Eagles have what it takes to live up to expectations.

I talked to someone the other day who believed Vick’s struggles were the result of mental exhaustion. My friend’s theory was that Vick had too much on his mind, and, as a result, he was plying with fear and timidity. He was staying in the pocket. He was throwing the ball away. He wasn’t himsef. I don’t know if I agree or not. I’ve watched every Eagles game and just felt like the Eagles’ offensive line was making Vick’s job extremely difficult. But I do think my friend had a point that is also applicable to every day life: a crowded mind robs power.

Too often, the things of this world bring us down, making us fearful and timid. The Spirit of God, however, “does not make us timid, but gives power, love and self-discipline.” A crowded mind robs us of power. Relying on God, focusing on the eternal, walking in the Spirit, gives power.

— Stephen Copeland, Sports Spectrum

Weekender

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” Matthew 5:11-12

Going Long

Read Matthew 5:11-12 and mediate on what it says about people who go through trials because of their faith. Is this you? What does this promise say? Remember, this life is only temporary. Our life in Heaven is eternal.

Another Angle — The mystery of fantasy

Posted on by
4,549

I was walking around my apartment on deadline the other night thinking about this column—thinking about what the Hektor of Troy I was going to write about.

I knew it was going in our fantasy football issue, but I’m not a fantasy football guy. I’m just not. I want to be. I want to be like my colleague, Sports Yapp podcast host Bryce Johnson, who has a ring sitting on his desk with “Bryce” carved into the band for his 2010 Fantasy Football Championship. (Trust me, I know it’s there; he’s showed it to me seven times.) I want to be like Jimmy Fallon and his friends on Fever Pitch. I want to be that hardcore. Obsessive is cool and funny.

I usually end up playing fantasy football, but I always end up being the guy who doesn’t care. I adjust my fantasy lineup my first few weeks, telling myself that this will be the year I take it seriously. But by Week 4 I’m getting WUPHFed (if you’ve seen The Office) by the league commissioner—emailed, texted, facebooked, tweeted at—reminding me to bench the guys who are on their bye week.

By Week 7, the commissioner is taking the time to look up my lineup and tell me who to bench. By Week 10, he’s telling me who to bench, who to substitute in, and notifying me about the three active guys on my roster who have apparently been injured since Week 11. And by Week 13, he has my username and password wondering, “Why the Roy Helu (Washington Redskins running back, fantasy rank of 24) did I invite this bum?”

I don’t like fantasy football. And sometimes I wonder why people are so drawn to it—why companies have to firewall certain sites so employees don’t tamper with their fantasy lineups during work. What makes it so great? Seriously?

I wondered if it was because regular football wasn’t good enough. So I started thinking about all the things I’d change about the NFL. I started building my own fantasy.

I decided I’d lengthen the season by, eh, say eight weeks, starting the season in July, since I’m convinced July and August is a sports purgatory God ordained to purify us all of our addiction to sports, months where I replay the ESPYs in my mind and consider reading the entire Freeh Report. I usually fall asleep watching SportsCenter, but the other night I was so bored that I started reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Shakespeare. I haven’t even thought about Shakespeare since I SparkNoted Hamlet in 11th grade.

There are more things I’d change in my fantasy. I’d go back and have Chad Johnson change his last name to “Rach” instead of “Ochocinco,” trade him to the Broncos, and make sure he ran between two pillars of flames at the start of each game (see Daniel 3). I’d change Sean Payton’s last name to “Pay-a-ton.”

I love Faith Hill, I really do, but I think I’d replace her with Carrie Underwood or Taylor Swift on Sunday Night Football. And I’d probably add a cowgirl hat.

I love Peyton Manning, but I’d plop him on a tractor and send him back to Indy. I love Tim Tebow, but I wish he didn’t do those Jockey commercials, mostly because the first three seconds make me feel inadequate and puny like Gumby. And I’m sure there are things I love about Terrell Owens, but gosh, I just can’t think of anything.

I decided my mind was wandering to far off places, like that underwater place where the Gungans live in Star Wars, so I returned to the premise of the column: Why are people so drawn to fantasy football?

Judging by the fact that I wandered all the way to the fictitious planet of Naboo, I decided that my original theory—that fantasy football exists because regular football isn’t good enough—was bogus. It didn’t make sense. If that was the case, then people wouldn’t have enjoyed the NFL before the Internet. And I’m pretty confident that, even if the NFL stripped away fantasy football, football would still be widely popular. It’s what we do in America—that, and eat fatty things.

So it had to be something else.

For some reason, I started thinking about Peyton Manning again (I’m a Colts fan, and I miss him). I’ve heard that, even on his off days, he’s studying his playbook and watching film. I started to feel a little sheepish.

I wished that I didn’t have off-minutes, off-hours, off-days, off-months with God. I wished I was like Peyton Manning, always studying my playbook, always focused on the task at-hand. I wished I was always close with God.

People play fantasy football, you see, because they like to feel close. They like to feel like they’re on the sidelines. It makes each and every game, each and every play, incredibly real and meaningful.

I want to be like Bryce in fantasy football—making trades and trash talking with my friends throughout the week—but, to be frank, I just don’t care. I want to be like Enoch, who walked so close with God that the Lord eventually took him—but, to be honest, I wonder if I care.

In my fantasies, I care.

And sometimes I wonder if this life is all about working our way down to the sidelines—until we’re so close that we see those little black rubber pellets flying up from the turf and hear the pounding of padding and helmets, noticing things we’ve never noticed.

All because we’re close and want to get closer.

By Stephen Copeland

This story was published in the July 2012 Sports Spectrum DigiMag. Print and digital subscribers, log in and view the issue here. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com. 

Another Angle — Professor’s perspective

Posted on by
4,347

Paul Felix sees a different side of things.

His daughter Allyson Felix, for example, won three track and field gold medals at the London 2012 Olympic games, the most any female track athlete has earned since 1988. But her most impressive feat, he believes, wasn’t her 200-meter victory, a race where she had disappointedly taken silver four years before in Beijing and eight years before in Athens…or her 4×100-meter relay gold…or her 4×400-meter relay gold.

He was most impressed with her fifth place finish in the 100 meters in London. Fifth place, especially in America, is as irrelevant as rhythmic gymnastics, but her time in the 100 was a personal record. He was proud of her.

“She won three gold medals, but people don’t talk about the fact she took fifth in the 100, which was a personal best,” says Paul, an associate professor of New Testament at Master’s Seminary in Sun Valley, Calif. “Everyone came out of the woodwork when she won the 200, but what she accomplished in the 100 was absolutely amazing. No one even picked her to run the 100, but she ends up taking fifth and running a personal best.”

Maybe it’s a silly example, but that’s what I like about Paul Felix. He has an enlightening and convicting perspective on life that makes you question whether your own perspective is too narrow. And throughout Allyson’s entire career, that’s what he’s done: provided perspective in every situation for his family (his son Wes, wife Marlean and daughter Allyson), specifically in the 200 meters the last three Olympic games.

The Olympic 200 has always hung over Allyson’s head like Steve Nash’s ring-less fingers.

In the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, Allyson took silver (as an 18-year-old, by the way), finishing behind Jamaica’s Veronica Campbell-Brown. Oddly, Allyson didn’t take a victory lap to celebrate her silver medal. When she saw her parents face-to-face that evening, she cried in her mother Marlean’s arms.

“Shug,” Paul said, calling her by her nickname, “realize what you just accomplished.” He helped her see the positives. She was only 18. At the end of 10th grade, she had run against Marion Jones, and now she was here taking a silver medal in the Olympics. Not bad when most 18-year-olds are just trying to survive Algebra 2 and find a date to prom.

“Once we helped her keep it in proper perspective, she realized that she really accomplished a lot,” Paul says.

Allyson entered the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing heavily favored to win the 200 after taking gold in the 2005 and 2007 World Championships. But there was Jamaica’s Campbell-Brown, again, with a comfortable lead at the finish line. This time, though sobbing, Allyson took her victory lap. She famously cried in the basement of the Bird’s Nest stadium.

In 2004, she was only 18.

In 2008, she was favored…and she lost.

“I know she was disappointed, but it wasn’t the end of the world,” Paul says.

Again, he reminded her of what she had achieved. He reminded her that track and field doesn’t define who you really are. He reminded her that it’s not the end of the world and that she still had races to run.

She entered the 2012 Olympic Games in London with another World Championship (2009) under her belt, longing for a resolution to her 200-meter Olympic woes.

But there was Paul, again, helping her see what’s most important. He gave her a note before London. It said to get a gold medal—to attain her dream and take first in the 200 meters—but more importantly, the note encouraged Allyson to strive for gold in her personal life, her spiritual walk.

“When I see an athlete accomplish something in the athletic world, it reminds me that God wants me to give that same thing in the spiritual realm…I want to do it for an eternal reap, something that lasts forever,” Paul says. “…The world that we live in, I just think that we have to keep our minds renewed and see things properly and see them from God’s perspective.”

See, if I were Paul Felix, I think I’d be a little self-consumed after my daughter won the 200 and left London with enough gold that you’d think she mugged a leprechaun. I’d be as arrogant as Usain Bolt (okay, that’s exaggerated and impossible), pridefully talking about how I raised her, telling everyone that my daughter was the greatest female track Olympian in 20 years. I would ride her fame like a surfboard.

But, like his excitement for Allyson’s finish in the 100 meters, Paul Felix sees things a little bit differently.

“I’m excited she’s getting recognition,” Paul says. “But my wife and I have always said that our greatest joy is to hear that our children, Wes and Allyson, are walking in the truth. Go after winning a gold medal in your relationship with Him. In my mind, that’s far more important.”

By Stephen Copeland

This story was published in the July 2012 Sports Spectrum DigiMag. Print and digital subscribers, log in and view the issue here. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com. 

Another Angle — The great irony

Posted on by
2,682

 

I want to love homosexuals like David Testo loves Christians.

David Testo opened the box.

The box was 15 years old, and inside was a person he had long forgotten. Not an actual body, you know, just metaphorically speaking.

There were pictures of Jesus, Bible verses he had written down, Christian things, memories from his North Carolina childhood—before homosexuality and hell went hand-in-hand, before his soccer skills allowed him to leave the Bible Belt and travel the globe and play 10 years of professional soccer (including three years with the MLS’s Columbus Crew and a brief stint with U-23 U.S. national team where he played with Landon Donovan), before last November when he announced on Canadian television that he was gay, becoming the first active male athlete in a major American professional league to come out.

Before he was accepted, he was told he needed to change.

“It’s interesting to go back and see that perspective because I think I ran away from it (Christianity) for a long time because I was like, ‘If you don’t accept me, then I don’t accept you,’” Testo says.

Testo, 30, is a nice guy, a humble guy, a spiritual guy. He’s a happy guy. I’m sure he’s not a perfect guy, but neither am I. I’m sure he has flaws, but so do I. He’s not a fighter. He doesn’t claim that his beliefs are superior. All he does is wake up every day with one goal in mind: be a better person than the day before. He says that’s what drives him.

Now, he lives in Montreal, where every corner has a cathedral and every street is named after a Saint, yet government and religion operate as two separate entities. He likes it that way.

He’s a coach, a yoga instructor, and an LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) activist. He’s glad he came out because it’s allowed him to mentor other homosexuals who feel alienated by society—who don’t feel loved, who don’t feel accepted. He likes to help.

The thing I like most about Testo is that he has every right to hate Christianity, but he doesn’t. Now, I’m not condoning homosexuality or gay marriage or anything, for that matter—that’s not the point of this column. The point is that I think there’s something Christians can learn from a guy like David Testo. You see, if homosexuals said that straight people went to hell, I think it would make me hate them. Those types of comments are what drove him away from Christianity and embrace universalism, but he doesn’t hate Christians. He said that everyone, even the picketers and misguided pastors who say gays should be herded in electric fences until they die off, are entitled to their own opinion. That type of love and acceptance fascinates me. To use a church term, that’s “Christ-like” to me.

For example, whenever he talks to his extended “deeply rooted” Baptist family, though they disagree with the way he lives, he says their faith is awesome because it gives them “ambition and motivation to be better people.”

Or whenever he sees picketers with “God hates fags” signs, he sees right through it. “The sign should just say ‘I hate fags,’” he says. “Don’t project that idea onto God because God is love, and I don’t think love has anything to do with hate.” Even the ugliest form of “Christianity” (if you can call it that) doesn’t make him hate it.

You see, Testo doesn’t try to change people. Would he like for everyone to believe that homosexuality is right and normal? I’d imagine he would. But he realizes that you can’t change people. You can’t. All you can do is love and accept people as people.

“If I were to say that they were wrong, if I were to put up that wall, I’d do the same thing they were doing to me,” Testo says. “It’s a paradox. I’m not there to tell you what is right or wrong. I’m not going to put that wall there and fight back. If they want to fight, they can fight, but I’m not going to.”

When I look at the Christian culture, I see much more of a push to change and fight, and less of a push to love and accept so that God can do a work in people’s lives. Christians say they love and accept homosexuals, but first, they tell them they need to change.

Since when is it my job to change someone? Isn’t that God’s job?

I want to love homosexuals like David Testo loves Christians.

“The whole idea of changing someone else, I don’t go there,” Testo laughs. “I think we have enough internal work on ourselves, I don’t think I have the capacity to change someone else….Once you break down the barriers of rules and rights and wrongs and just act like the God you believe in—the God of love—it kind of melts all these other kind of irrelevancies away.”

I wasn’t sure how to write this column, to be honest. I thought about writing about how much I hate the way Christians act sometimes—like when I was in downtown Charlotte the other day and I saw one of those whacko evangelists carrying around an obnoxious banner reading “HELL AWAITS” with “HOMOSEXUALS” bigger than every other “sinner” on the banner. (“SPORTS NUTS” was one of the sinners, too, and I thought about all my co-workers who were going to hell. Then I thought about Sports Spectrum operating in hell. Then I wondered if I’d be able to keep my back-page column in hell or if best-selling author Tony Dungy would replace me. I pictured the two of us dueling with tridents for the back-page column in Sports Spectrum in hell.)

When I asked Testo whether he’s bothered by the Christian culture, he intriguingly answered that he doesn’t like to group all Christians together. He’s right. The truth is, Christians aren’t always saying that sports nuts and homosexuals go to hell. The fact that he wasn’t bothered by Christians, again, fascinated me.

When I hung up the phone and started thinking about the column, all I could think of was this: I wanted to think more like David Testo, not because of his religious views—I disagreed with some of the things he said—but because he loves and accepts Christians (who are sinners who have harmed him) like Jesus would. Jesus reached out to everyone.

Testo emailed me later: “…being gay isn’t a choice, and that’s where a lot of the confusion and ignorance lies…again, I’m not trying to change anyone but be a role model of love and equality.”

Testo focuses on loving people. He says he allows the “universe” to grow and change people.

And I can’t help but feel like there is a lesson there.

We love and accept. God changes.

By Stephen Copeland

This story was published in the Summer 2012 issue of Sports Spectrum magazine. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com. 

Another Angle — Major champions come through me

Posted on by
2,106

Golfers are superstitious.

I know that firsthand. My senior year of college golf, I would always, always shower before my round, eat two doughnuts and a banana on the way to the course, and listen to Coldplay in the van…that is, until I played poorly. Then I’d start a different routine.

But I didn’t know golfers were this superstitious.

You see, I’ve interviewed four golfers this year for Sports Spectrum. The first golfer I interviewed was Bubba Watson, who was featured in our Winter 2012 issue. Bubba won the Masters. The second golfer I interviewed was Webb Simpson, who was featured in our Spring 2012 issue. As we saw on Sunday, Webb won the U.S. Open.

Whoever I interview will undoubtedly win a major. It’s scientifically proven.

The third golfer I interviewed was Ben Crane, which, according to my track record, means he’ll win the British Open, even though he’s not currently part of the field. And the fourth was Aaron Baddeley, which means he’ll win the PGA.

Apparently, I have powers. And right after Webb won the U.S. Open and some zany (who was apparently a deforestation activist) disruptively clucked like a bird during the ceremony, word started to get out. Word started to get out that I was a golf prophet.

My cell phone started ringing, and I realized how superstitious golfers really were…

PHONE: Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain… (I wanted to be cool, so I made one of those ringtones on myxer.com with Taylor Swift’s “Sparks Fly.”)

“Hello,” I said.

“Hey, it’s Ben Crane.”

“The Ben Crane? What’s up, man? I didn’t even know you had my number…or remembered me…or—”

“It’s good to talk to you, too, Steve,” he said, getting to the point. “I just had a quick question.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Rumor has it that I’m guaranteed to win the British Open since you interviewed me…”

“Eh, I hope so, I mean, you’re due,” I said, caught off guard and laughing nervously, wondering if he was joking.

“This better not be a hoax, Copeland,” he said, almost threatening. “I’m not even in the field right now, but I really believe this is going to happen. All the evidence backs it up.”

“I don’t know if it’s true…”

“I’m banking on this money,” he said conclusively. “And I plan on drinking Kool-Aid out of my Claret Jug come July 23.”

Then he hung up the phone.

PHONE: Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk…

“Hello.”

“G-day mate.” It was Aaron Baddeley.

“Hey,” I answered.

“So ye think Oi’m going to win the PGAaaa-eh?”

“Well, I mean, I hope you do, but I think this whole thing is just a big—”

“Neo woy, mate! Oi’m going to boi me woif and meself eh proivate plane with the extra—”

“No, man, you really shouldn’t—” I said quickly. But he had already hung up.

“Blasted bloke,” I murmured under my breath, trying to sound sexy and Australian like Aaron. Then I questioned myself, wondering if “blasted” was a British, Irish, Scottish, or Australian thing. I knew “bloke” was Australian because I remembered it being on the men’s restrooms at Outback Steakhouse. I decided I was Australian and sexy…and that I shouldn’t say words if I didn’t know their meaning.

PHONE: Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain…

“Hello.”

“Hey, is this Mr. Copeland?”

“Yes.”

“This is Sergio Garcia.”

“Hi.”

“Hey, I heard that if you interviewed me, I’ll finally win a major.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s true.”

“Ah, figures. I knew I’d never win,” he said, incredibly sad, as if I was his last resort or something.

He sniffed, choked and said “Good bye,” then hung up.

PHONE: Drop everything now…

“What?” I said.

“Hey, Bubba here.”

“Seriously, man, if this is about the whole—”

“Hold up, I’ve got a few other people on the line.”

“What?”

“Hunter, you here?”

“Yes,” Hunter Mahan said.

“Rickie, you here?”

“Yes,” Rickie Fowler said.

“And Ben, are you here?”

“Yes,” Ben Crane said.

“Alright,” Bubba continued, “We, the Golf Boys, would like to negotiate a contract for 2013. Interview all four of us, and we’ll have a Golf Boys Grand Slam.”

“Guys, it’s really not like that…”

“I’ll give you $500 of Puma merch,” Rickie said, sounding as cool and Pumafied in person as I always imagined him sounding.

“I hate flat bills.”

“I’ll give you my helmet,” Ben said.

“No.”

“I’ll get you a year supply of food for Waffle House,” Bubba added.

Waffle House? I thought. Then I remembered that Waffle House for some unknown reason was the caterer at Bubba’s concert, Bubba Bash, and I thought of two of the most hilarious tweets I’ve ever seen that were exchanged between Bubba and Webb.

@bubbawatson: 1st trip to @WaffleHouse #awesome (Picture of his son, Caleb, at Waffle House)
@webbsimpson1: @bubbawatson I Davis Love that place man
@bubbawatson: @webbsimpson1 Kevin NA u don’t

“Still, no,” I said, “This is ridiculous.”

“Maybe I can teach you how to be a man and actually grow facial hair,” Hunter said, showing his frustration. “Yeah, we’ve seen your pictures online. You look younger than Beau Hossler.”

“Ohhhhhhh!” they all said, doing that “burn” thing people do.

“Oh oh oh oh ohh,” they all started singing like they sing in their video, repeating it 16 times.

I hung up.

PHONE: Drop everything…

“If this is about the U.S. Open—”

“Yes, I know this sounds crazy, but I just had a kid, and I was hoping to arrange an interview with you so my child will win the 2045 Masters.”

I hung up.

PHONE: Drop everything…

“WHAT?” I screamed, clenching my phone.

“It’s the USGA.”

“Like, all of you?”

“Yes, the whole USGA. Listen, we heard you work for a Christian sports magazine. Tiger is a professing Buddhist. That means he’ll never be featured in Sports Spectrum, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I never imagined we’d be able to arrange an interview with Tiger…”

“Well, here’s our dilemma. If you don’t interview Tiger for the magazine, that means he’ll never win another major, and if he never wins another major, that means we won’t make money. We’ll give you a yacht, a year-round, all-inclusive trip to Scotland, and complete access to TPC courses around the country.”

Long pause.

“Seriously?” I said. Then I hung up.

PHONE: Drop everything…

“Yeah.”

“Hey, it’s Jack. Don’t interview Tiger Woods.”

I hung up.

PHONE: Drop everything…

“It’s Jim Furyk. I’ll give you a lifetime supply of five-hour energy. I have the connections to make that happen.”

“Dude, the USGA just offered me yacht.”

He hung up, cursing.

 

It’s not easy having all this power.

It seems cool—being a god, in a sense, controlling the fate of the golfing world. But in reality, it feels more like Peter Parker’s spider bite. It’s nice to have the power—swinging from building to building, preventing muggings, and swapping spit upside-down with Mary Jane—but there’s also a lot of responsibility and, worst of all, people count on you.

That’s why this whole ordeal has become such a headache, why I’ll never be able to write a pure, uncompromised golf article ever again. The bribes. The pressure. The desperate cries to be interviewed by Sports Spectrum. The fact that, to win a major championship, golfers first have to come through us. People think it’d be cool to be a god. Remember Bruce Almighty? But here’s the thing: That much control isn’t exciting. It just creates stress.

Like Peter Parker, my life, career, and identity will never be the same. I can no longer be a sports writer. Instead, I’m the gatekeeper to fame, green jackets, and millions of dollars. I’m a seer in one of those dark, peculiar tents with a crystal ball. And I don’t like it.

PHONE: Drop everything…

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s John Daly.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll interview you.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Stephen is completely delusional. We’re sorry.

By Stephen Copeland

Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com. 

Breaking Free

Posted on by
893

A glimpse into the mind-set of the 2012 U.S. Open champion, Webb Simpson…

Webb Simpson had fallen into a trap, a spiritual and psychological snare.

As he stood on the putting green before the final round of the 2011 Wyndham Championship in Greensboro, NC—with a two-stroke lead, still winless on the PGA Tour with an opportunity to earn his first victory close to his hometown of Raleigh—he still had one foot stuck in the snare.

A number of thoughts crossed his mind…

“If God wants me to win today, I’ll win.”

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

“Whatever God has planned, I’ll accept it.”

Maybe not bad thoughts, per se. Simpson believes God is ultimately in control. But as he’ll tell you, they weren’t thoughts of a champion, a winner or a warrior, either.

His wife, Dowd, walked onto the putting green. She looked at him and quoted Psalm 50:15: “And call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me.”

Simpson was overcome for a couple of reasons.

“When you have a wife that looks at you before you go to battle like that, it makes you feel so loved,” Simpson says. “I wanted to cry.”

Then there’s the other reason.

“After she said that,” Simpson continues, “I was like, ‘I’m going to go out there and try to win by 10.’”

He was fleeing the trap. Breaking free. Running quickly to battle.

The Trap

Webb Simpson thinks a lot about God. And golf, according to Jack Nicklaus, is 90 percent mental. Therefore, the way Simpson thinks about God will undoubtedly affect his golf game.

In apologetics, it’s called deductive reasoning—something Simpson may have learned while majoring in religion at Wake Forest University. Simpson believes a relationship with God can produce peace and perspective, but for many Christian athletes, God can also become an excuse.

That’s the trap.

“The stereotype of Christian athletes is that if God wants me to win, I’ll win, and I can’t do anything about it,” Simpson says. “I was falling into that trap. But God has not called us to lay over and let Him do all the work. God wants me to be a champion. He’s called me to be a man and a champion and be the best I can be. I wasn’t doing a good job of that in 2010.”

Simpson admits there wasn’t a deep sense of urgency since he joined the Tour in 2009. He rarely stepped on the course thinking, “I’m going to shoot 62 today.” If he was supposed to win, he’d win. It was a trap that, he believes, led to six consecutive missed cuts in 2010, a 229th world golf ranking at one time, and almost resulted in him losing his Tour card (if it wasn’t for a fourth place finish in the next-to-last event of the 2010 season).

“I was swinging the pendulum as far as a pushover Christian,” Simpson admits.

Breaking Free

There was a mental turning point when Dowd quoted Psalm 50:15 that Sunday afternoon in Greensboro.

His mind-set had already begun to change, which consequently made 2011 much smoother than 2010 thus far. Six top-10 finishes, 10 top 20’s, only three missed cuts and two second-place finishes, one of which was the result of a flukish late-round penalty in the Zurich Classic when Simpson’s ball moved while addressing it, sending him into a playoff with Bubba Watson.

It was shaping out to be a break-through season, and there’d certainly be no talk of losing his Tour card this time around. But he still hadn’t won. He still had one foot entangled in the snare.

“To come so close so many times, you get to a place where you are borderline desperate,” Simpson says. “It’s not really a great place to be in…But I had that attitude all year: wanting to win but not believing I could win.”

Not on August 21. He believed he could win. And he did, firing a 3-under 67 for a three-shot victory in front of everyone he loved, being born and raised just 90 minutes east of the tournament site.

He went from pushover to warrior. From watching the battle unfold to charging.

“I felt God out there with me more than I ever had before,” Simpson says. “It (the victory) was a confidence booster. When I walk on the range, I want to be known as one of the guys to beat.”

That’s what he became. He won again two weeks later at the Deutsche Bank Championship in Massachusetts and almost won a month later at The McGladrey Classic when he lost in a playoff to Ben Crane.

His upsurge in earnings was the largest one-season jump in PGA Tour history: from $972,962 in 2010 to $6,683,214 in 2011, an increase of $5,374,391. He had two wins, three runner-up finishes (which included two playoff losses), 12 top 10’s and 21 top 25’s. He finished second in the FedEx standings to Bill Haas and second on the PGA Tour money list.

“God calls us to be great in everything we do,” Simpson says. “Not that our occupation or job has precedence over our spiritual walk. But I think he’s given me a talent, and that talent is golf. I don’t glorify God when I’m not confident in Him.”

Running Quickly

On June 17, 2012, Webb Simpson won his first major championship, the U.S. Open. He continues to charge confidently into battle.

And though you’d think nearly multiplying your winnings by seven between 2010 and 2011 would affect you, one of his good friends from Wake Forest, Chase Estep, says it hasn’t changed Simpson (except for the fact that he now has three cell phones).

“Webb is one of those people who hasn’t changed a bit in how he acts or what he buys,” Estep says. “Now that he’s made a lot of money, it hasn’t changed who he is.”

Simpson, for example, ate Wendy’s after his first PGA tournament victory. He still loves grabbing lunch near up-town Charlotte at Which Which Superior Sandwiches. He shoots skeet. He goes to Pinehurst once a year with his friends. And at the end of the day, he’s still Webb—the same guy talking smack during he and Estep’s heated ping-pong tournaments at Wake.

“He handles a lot of stuff,” Estep continues. “And I don’t know how he does it with such ease. It’s effortless for him. It goes back to his faith. He realizes that he’s just a vehicle.”

If there’s something that has changed him, it’s his off-the-course responsibilities. Entering his third year of marriage with his college sweetheart, Dowd, the couple recently celebrated their son James’ first birthday, and they are expecting another child in August. “The golf last year was really awesome—winning two times for the first time ever,” Simpson says. “But it was even better off the course.”

The past three years for Simpson can be summed up in one word: transition, becoming a husband and father, a top-10 player in the world and all in all, a warrior.

“As we look at biblical manhood, all the great men of the Bible had similar characteristics,” Simpson says. “Leadership, lovers of God, lovers of his Word. When you ponder those qualities, most of those men were fighters and strong men that loved the Lord. That’s a mantra I want to be known for. I want to be a strong man and a warrior with a soft heart when it comes to God.”

Simpson reflects on 1 Samuel 17:48, that “as the Philistine (Goliath) moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly towards the battle line to meet him.”

“(I believe) every word is there for a reason,” Simpson continues. “David ran quickly. He didn’t step back in fear of Goliath for one second. He ran quickly. So often we can let fears take over. But it glorifies God when we step up and look fear in the eyes. Fear is from Satan, not from God.”

This story was published in the In His Grip section of the Spring 2012 issue. 

A Distinct Path

Posted on by
3,343

It happened to Luke Zeller three times—the recurrence of a dream.

“What do you want to do when you grow up?” a television reporter asked Luke when he was 14 years old.

“I want to start a basketball camp,” he said.

When Luke played basketball at the University of Notre Dame, it happened again. This time it was during an event at his roommate’s church, and he ended up sitting next to Justin Maust, the co-founder of Five Star Life, a character-building organization in Elkhart, Ind. They started talking.

“What do you think God wants for your life?” Justin eventually asked Luke.

“Well,” Luke said, “I used to think that it was running a Christian-based basketball camp.”

Toward the end of Luke’s tenure at Notre Dame, the dream returned—when he had to give a presentation for one of his entrepreneurship classes and introduced one of his business ideas, a character-building basketball camp.

“It was fun to dream about, but I didn’t think it would work,” Luke says.

It had been a dream ingrained in his mind for a decade.

But only a dream.

Believing the Dream

Luke Zeller and Bryce Bow were sitting on the lawn outside the College Football Hall of Fame in South Bend, Ind.

They were upperclassmen in college—Luke, a star at Notre Dame, and Bow, a player at Goshen College in northern Indiana—when they were randomly paired up to work a free basketball clinic raising money for homeless awareness in South Bend.

Both had a passion for basketball. Both had a passion for ministry. But they didn’t know they had so much in common.

Sitting on the lawn after completing the basketball camp, Luke talked about his vision for a basketball ministry.

“We want to teach character, leadership, and life skills,” Bow remembers Luke telling him.

“That’s exactly what I’m passionate about,” Bow told Luke. “Basketball and ministry.”

There was a connection.

Joining the Family

There was a connection when Luke met his bride, Hope Zeller, too. But it had nothing to do with basketball. Truth is, Hope probably never imagined being part of a basketball ministry.

When she and Luke Zeller started dating in college, she hardly knew who he was. All she knew was that he played basketball. She didn’t know he earned the famed Indiana Mr. Basketball award, that he hit a buzzer-beating, half-court shot to bring Washington High School its first state title, that he was adored at Notre Dame or that he was idolized in his hometown. To Hope, he was just “Luke.”

“I told him at first that I hate to watch professional basketball, but now I have a professional basketball husband,” Hope jokes, referring to Luke’s current playing career with the Austin Toros. “I didn’t even know there was an award called Mr. Basketball.”

The first time they met each other, they went to a movie with a group of friends. Afterwards, they went to Wal-Mart. Luke bought a basketball video game.

“Don’t you play basketball?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do,” he responded.

“But you want to play more basketball?”

Hope admits it was culture-shock dating Luke—going to Notre Dame games and seeing people wait outside the locker room just to talk to him, or visiting Washington for the first time and people knowing her name that she had never even met.

“We couldn’t walk anywhere without people talking,” Hope says. “I felt like I was in a fishbowl being watched by my owners…But what convinced me that the Zellers’ lives weren’t so terrible was how they handled it. The reality is that they are normal people. They live normal lives, and they are humble.”

With the Zellers—parents Lorri and Steve and sons Luke, Tyler, and Cody—she’d be a part of something big.

Family-Run

“A Zeller Family Program.”

That’s the phrase on the website for DistinXion—the name of Luke Zeller’s basketball ministry. The name of his dream.

“God is not a God of confusion,” Luke says. “I had always envisioned it and seen it. It was simple. This was it.”

It truly is a family program—all the way from the name, which his wife Hope came up with because the Greek symbol for Christ is “X;” to the basketball side, which is managed by Luke with summer help from Tyler, who is a projected top-15 pick in the NBA Draft and played at the University of North Carolina, and Cody, who helped lead Indiana University to the Sweet 16 his freshman season; to the counseling side, which is run by Luke’s parents, Lorri and Steve; to the marketing side, which is directed by Hope.

“I know there is a reason the Lord made the boys seven-feet tall,” Lorri says. “And I don’t think it’s to play basketball. He gave them that basketball talent so they could have a platform to glorify Him.”

DistinXion isn’t new—it’s been around for a few years—but the Zellers are starting to see it explode, evidenced by its recent national recognition in USA Today and on CBS.

What began as a dream, and turned into a nearly 80-page business plan for a class at Notre Dame, has evolved into what it is today, where the Zellers travel to different cities during the summer and host camps for grade school and middle school children, using basketball to teach character and faith.

With the help of Bryce Bow and Hope, it continues to expand.

After working as an athletic director at Florida Christian College and connecting with trainer Ganon Baker, who has worked with Kobe Bryant, Chris Paul, and LeBron James, the 25-year-old Bow is leaving a well-paying job to start full-time with DistinXion in July as the organization’s trainer. And while the basketball side of DistinXion primarily targets boys, Hope is spearheading a cheerleading division to impact young girls—something she believes is essential when “girls’ feeling of self-image and self-wroth is at an all-time low.”

“There are 52 weeks in a year, and we only get them for one weekend,” Hope says. “We don’t think we’ll be an organization that will immediately change everything. But we still want to start the change. Hopefully over time, more parents will learn from our camp that they want to raise their kids with character.”

Clearing the Path

Though it’s Luke’s vision, the oldest Zeller is quick to say that he isn’t the one who built DistinXion. God did.

“Fifty percent of our funding is based on sponsors and donors. That’s an absolutely stupid way to run a business,” Luke jokes and admits. “In a worldly way, it doesn’t make sense, but I see myself as a steward of God’s organization.”

Luke says that when he looked at DistinXion’s most recent income statement, all he did was fall to his knees. He had just hired two full-time people, and all he kept asking God was, “How?”

“When we have no clue where we’re going, I rejoice because it makes me completely rely on Him,” Hope says. “DistinXion took off so much quicker than any of us would have thought. There are a lot of times when we just sit and say, ‘I have no idea how this is going to work out.’ But in the end, God continues to provide the people and provide the finances.”

Growing up, Steve Zeller always used to tell Luke that he had to be a “trailblazer,” that he had to clear a path worth following.

“At the end of the day, we could have a lot of awards, but what’s the legacy we’re going to leave?” Luke says. “What’s the impact we’ll echo into eternity?”

And now, the whole family is following.

By Stephen Copeland

This story was published in the Sports Spectrum Summer 2012 DigiMag. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine.

Another Angle — The God excuse

Posted on by
4,284

Some guy the other day looked at me and said, “Just pray about it.” I felt like he was telling me to shut up—like he was tired of listening to me or something. I was mad. Praying made me angry.

In high school, I remember my dad telling me to apply to colleges. I told him God would lead me to the right one. I felt holy—like I was seeking “God’s direction” (isn’t that what they say in church?). So I picked up my PlayStation controller and built the most legendary dynasty the world had ever seen on Madden 2004. I think that made my dad angry.

I heard a story one time about some dude who was drowning in an ocean but kept telling the rescue boats that God would save him. When he drowned in the ocean and went to heaven, God said, “I sent you three boats, you idiot.” God was probably angry; righteously, of course.

It’s the “God Excuse,” when we Christians, in my opinion, try to sound holy to compensate for our laziness.

The idea for this column came when PGA Tour star Webb Simpson candidly told me in an interview that one of his biggest mental struggles as a Christian athlete is the thought that winning is up to God. It’s a concept he believes many Christian athletes wrestle with.

I would argue that most believers, athletes or not, struggle with this.

Webb told me: “The stereotype of Christian athletes is that if God wants me to win, I’ll win, and I can’t do anything about it. I was falling into that trap (in 2010). But God has not called us to lay over and let Him do all the work. God wants me to be a champion. He’s called me to be a man and a champion and be the best I can be.”

Spending the last half-decade in the Christian bubble, I’ve heard some pretty bad God excuses. To be honest, I’ve probably used most of them, because one, I’m lazy, and two, I like feeling holy.

I remember one of my friends breaking up with his girlfriend and telling her, “I don’t think God wants us to be together.” Truth is, he didn’t even like her, but he didn’t want to feel guilty for not liking her. Plus, how could she argue with God?

One of my theology professors in college told us a story about a teenager’s funeral where dozens of people ended up getting saved. At the end of the funeral, the pastor stood up and confidently said, “This is why she had to die—so these people could be saved.” My professor was sitting in the back thinking, Could he be more wrong? Who are we, as humans, to say why God does things? It’s the God excuse. People were desperately asking why the tragedy happened, so he told them. But it’s wrong.

How offensive is it that we use the God of the universe as a tax write-off? Remember the Crusades? We use God as a cop-out. It makes us feel better, so we do it.
“Why did you lose the tournament?”
“I guess God didn’t want me to win.”
No, you missed three putts within four feet. Plus, you were peaking on each stroke as if $500 in cash was wadded up in the cup. Practice more.

“How’s work?”
“Not good. My boss is a jerk. I think God wants me to find a different job.”
No, YOU are the one who wants to find a different job. And you are the jerk for bringing God into it.

“Dating anyone?”
“I wish. Oh well, God will bring her to me.”
No, you see that cute blonde smiling at you in the corner of the coffee shop? Maybe you should go talk to her. Maybe buy her a caramel frappe? Can’t go wrong with those.

 

Psalm 37:3-6 talks about trusting in the Lord, doing good, dwelling in the land, befriending faithfulness, delighting in the Lord, committing to God, and then—and only then—God will give you the desires of your heart. Then, your intentions will be aligned with God’s. As James says, “faith apart from works is dead.”

I’m not downplaying prayer or faith. I’m not. I believe in a sovereign God. But I also believe we have to do our part (see, again, Psalms and James). As Webb says, God hasn’t called us to lie down and let Him do all the work. You have to get out of the boat before you walk on water.

Too often, we do nothing because we’re lazy and write it off as faith. But that’s when God just becomes an excuse. That’s when we cheapen the Almighty.

So, work hard and do your part, and also let God work.

Or did God tell you to be lazy?

By Stephen Copeland

This column was published in the Sports Spectrum Summer 2012 DigiMag. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com.

Another Angle — God is like water

Posted on by
1,114

Ben Crane stood over his ball, stopped, and looked over at me through his sunglasses.

“Dude, I just thought of a great idea for the article,” he said, in the middle of stroking putts during his practice round on Tuesday.

“What is it?” I asked, standing behind the ropes and chuckling at the irony of it all. Here was a PGA Tour player practicing for what he would later tell me is one of his favorite tournaments of the year—the Wells Fargo Championship—and he’s standing over a putt thinking about a feature story for Sports Spectrum magazine.

“I’ll tell you on the next tee,” he said, looking back down at his putt.

I interviewed Ben on the driving range before his practice round but didn’t expect to talk to him again. He graciously gave me his time on the driving range—talking about everything from the depths of the Bible to the goofy helmet (see below) he wears in his videos—and I was solely following him for one reason: to watch him play golf.

Yet here we were. I wasn’t going to complain.

“Walk with me,” Ben said as we proceeded to the fifth hole, continuing our interview from before.

We stood on the tee box. It was late in the day, his playing partners left, and there were only a handful of people in the gallery—which made it just Ben, his caddie, Joel Stock, and I, practically alone during a beautiful evening on one of the Carolina’s finest courses.

“The number one goal in life,” Ben said, explaining the concept he wanted me to include in the article, “is dependence on God. I learn that…then I re-learn it.”

As we walked up the fairway, he continued to tell me about the importance of depending on God—how he made that his theme for Masters week, how he’s trying to get the people he mentors to understand the exact same thing, how a book he’s reading continues to challenge him in that regard.

We didn’t talk a whole lot more until the end of the round. I kept my distance, not wanting to be the reason that he wasn’t adequately prepared for the first round on Thursday—because a shaggy-haired sports writer kept bothering him about his faith.

But on our walk to the No. 7 tee—he probably doesn’t even remember this—Ben looked at me and said, “You’ve gotta be getting thirsty. I’m sure there’s water in the cooler you can take.”

I think I responded with something stupid, like the number of Cokes I downed that day at the media tent. But whatever. I just talk sometimes.

By that time, Ben had joined up with a golfer from Georgia—Brian Harman, I think—who had speakers in his bag softly playing country music, which I thought was kind of cool and an essential tidbit to include in this column. Again, I just talk.

But as both of them teed off, I remember looking at the cooler of water and thinking about everything Ben said a couple holes before.

God is like water, I thought to myself.

If I went much longer without water, I would continue to grow more and more thirsty. I may continue to try to quench my thirst with other things, but in the long run it wouldn’t satisfy. I would still need water. By the dryness of my mouth and weakness in my body, I would be reminded of my need for water—my dependence for water.

God is like water.

You can try to quench your longing for fulfillment with other things—money, job, family, friends, fun, etc.—but in the long run, they won’t satisfy. And God will remind you that they don’t satisfy by the emptiness you feel. By the dryness of your mouth and weakness in your body, He’ll remind you that you need to depend on Him.

There’s nothing wrong with being dependent on something. It’s freeing. When I’m dependent on God, I don’t have to worry about being in control. God is in control, and His plan—though I may not always understand it—is better anyway. It makes sense.

“Like Romans says,” Ben told me earlier on the driving range, “the more you understand who you are without the Christ, the more you love Christ and understand His grace, truth, and forgiveness.”

God is like water. Ben Crane taught me that.

So I opened the lid.

And I took one.

By Stephen Copeland

Look for a feature story about Ben Crane in an upcoming issue of Sports Spectrum. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com.

Another Angle: Joy like Bubba

Posted on by
4,476

Wanna know what I’m sick of? Joyless Christians. Christians should be funny. Christians should be enjoyable to be around. Christians should be the life of the party (yes, party, didn’t David dance before the Lord with all his might?) because they have something no one else has: unexplainable joy that’s only found in Christ. That’s why I love Bubba Watson. Yes, he’s a Christian. And yes, he lives a life with moral boundaries. But he also lives a joyful life, a funny life, a stupid life, a life replete with ridiculous stunts, hilarious videos and laughter.

Back in the fall, Watson was gracious enough to give me 35 minutes of his time for a phone interview, and this concept—the epidemic that Christians are plagued with boredom and lifelessness—is exactly what we talked about.

“I didn’t grow up in church,” Watson told me. “I didn’t know much about it. All I knew was that Christians were boring and not fun…. Now, knowing the little that I do know, that’s nothing what the Bible says. God wants you to have fun.”

Take the Golf Boys’ “Oh Oh Oh” music video, for example, featuring Watson and fellow players Ben Crane, Rickie Fowler and Hunter Mahan. If you haven’t seen it, all you need to know is Watson’s costume (or lack of one).

He is barefoot and shirtless—showcasing his woolly nest of chest hair that screams, “I’m a man!”—and wearing an undersized pair of overalls that gives him a Frodo Baggins/Johnny Appleseed stylish touch. When Rip Van Winkle woke up from his 20 years of sleep in the mountains and wandered down into the village, I’m sure he looked a lot like Bubba Watson in “Oh Oh Oh”—rugged, hair disheveled (head hair, not chest hair) and worthless.

It’s hilarious. And yes, also somewhat frightening.

“I have to have fun and joke around,” Watson says. “I don’t want to be the weirdo that just reads the Bible. But I’ll let people poke fun of me because I wore overalls in a video.”

Just spend a few minutes on YouTube or Twitter. You may see Watson pressuring his caddy, Teddy Scott, to jump the burn at St. Andrews during a wind delay (he did), riding a jet ski 70 mph in a colorful turquoise dress jacket and pants, playing golf in a Santa Claus suit (he calls it “Bubba Claus”), riding a scooter off the diving board, filming trick golf shots to get on Ellen DeGeneres’s show (inside the house, over the patio, over the pool, into the red bucket—he made it, by the way), or obsessing over Justin Bieber on Twitter.

His best friend, Judah Smith, said that when they vacationed together they challenged one another to jump off their hotel balcony into the ocean. So they did.

“We’re 16-year-olds trapped in 33-year-old bodies,” says Smith, who pastors The City Church in Seattle. “Bubba is very self-entertained. He can make anything fun…And I think Christians should have the most fun on the planet.”

PGATour.com created a video at the end of 2010, highlighting the character of Bubba Watson. So they interviewed his peers, searching for adjectives to describe him. Ryan Palmer just laughed. So did Bo Van Pelt. Kevin Streelman smiled and said he was “funny.” Justin Rose said he was a “quirky, crazy character” who was “unorthodox on and off the golf course.” Ben Crane said he was an “interesting guy with a great sense of humor” that also wore “pink socks.”

The point is this: When you mention the name “Bubba Watson” to his peers, they laugh. Even though he’s constantly talking and tweeting about his faith (“Christian” is the first thing listed on his Twitter bio…then “husband”…then “pro golfer”… then “Justin Bieber follows me on Twitter”), you didn’t see his PGA friends roll their eyes, shrug indifferently, and say that he’s anti-gay, pro-life, conservative, opinionated or judgmental—as is the painful description of many Christians. (Not to say I don’t necessarily agree with these things, but shouldn’t we be known for love?)

Rather, they laughed. Because he lives a comical, appealing, attractive lifestyle marked by love.

“God wants you to party, well, not party, but I call it party,” Bubba laughs. “We have the best God in the world, so why not have fun?”

That’s my question for every rigid, judgmental, joyless Christian. That’s my question for myself.

Why not be known for love instead of politics? Why not be known for joy instead of judging? Why not have fun?

Just party.

By Stephen Copeland

This column was published in the Vol. 26, No. 1 issue of Sports Spectrum. Stephen Copeland is a staff writer and columnist at Sports Spectrum magazine. His column tackles sports and faith from another angle, whether it’s humorous, personal or controversial. Follow him on Twitter-@steve_copeland or email him at stephen.copeland@sportsspectrum.com.

Uncommon Challenge