Keep The Faith.

That's the motto of the 2004 Boston Red Sox. It's plastered on billboards, repeated on TV commercials, and printed on t‑shirts. Everywhere we go, Red Sox Nation is reminded to keep the faith and never give up on the very thing that unites us.

There is no doubt that the Red Sox promotion department thought long and hard before choosing those three words to represent this year’s team. The fact that they decided on the word "faith" fascinates me, and not only because it happens to be my middle name.

Growing up, I always used to joke that sports were like a religion in my house. But when I began to question my own religion, and organized religion as a whole, I realized how true this was.

I was born into a family that loved sports. My parents have had Flyers season tickets for over 30 years, so I've been going to games since I was a fetus. Hockey was always a religion in my household; family nights were spent biting our fingernails in front of the TV during a playoff game, and special occasions were always planned to include the viewing of important sporting events. Some of my earliest childhood memories involve the local sports teams. I am fuzzy on the details of my Bat Mitzvah, but I remember my first hockey game like it was yesterday, despite the fact that it preceded my religious rite-of-passage by at least 10 years. (For the record, the Flyers lost to the Islanders on a goal scored in the last second of Overtime. An appropriate introduction to the world of sports I would come to know and love? I’ll say.)

During high school, I began to question my religion, and the role of organized religion in society. While I was extremely proud of my background, it seemed unfair that I should be forced to believe in a particular set of rules and ideas simply because I was born Jewish. I remember hearing a woman on the news talk about surviving a bank robbery; she had been lying on the floor of the bank, confident that Jesus would save her. And sure enough, when it was over, she thanked Jesus for deciding she was worthy of living. This struck me as odd; were the two bank tellers who were fatally shot that afternoon NOT worthy of saving? How could she be sure, as she was facedown on that cold cement, that Jesus was there to save her?

Since then, I've never been able to accept organized religion into my life. I've always seen faith in God to be blind faith driven by passion and used as a crutch. I have no problem with other people using religious for these very reasons, but it is never something I have bought into. And in the back of my mind, I’ve always thought that overly religious people were weak-minded for showing such blind faith.

But isn't that exactly what sports are for me, and for millions like me? What is faith based on? A series of historical events? A scientific formula? No. It’s based on hope. I have faith that the Red Sox will win a world series in my lifetime. I have faith that I will see the Flyers parade down Broad Street with the Stanley Cup. We hope and pray that they don't let us down again...we simply will ourselves to believe that this time, it will be different. Because it must be different. We don’t want to consider the alternative. We can’t.

Sports are my organized religion.


Talk to someone who isn’t a sports fan, and they’ll tell you that sports are nothing more than overpaid athletes playing childhood games. They see sports as trivial, and less important than music, books, or a variety of other hobbies. So what is it about sports that we love so much? Why have sports become an organized religion for so many of us?

I find it hard to put into words exactly what I love about sports.

Sports give a sense of belonging. In a world filled with billions of people that all have completely different feelings, thoughts, and emotions, it’s easy to feel lonely at times. Sports provide you with a community of people that have suffered exactly as you have suffered at the worst of times, and that will celebrate with you at the best of times.

Some have church. We have Fenway. Some have Christmas, the Pope, and midnight mass. We have the Stanley Cup finals in June, when it’s warm enough for shorts but we don’t think twice about wearing our heavy hockey jerseys. We have the NFL playoffs in January, when we sit on cold metal benches in subzero temperatures for 4 hours watching our team battle it out for a trip to the promised land. Some have Matthew, John, and Judas. We have Pedro vs Clemens, Mario Lemieux, and Bill Buckner.

I would rather watch Keith Primeau deek around opposing defensemen and score a shorthanded goal on a wicked slapshot than stare at the Mona Lisa. I would rather see Brian Westbrook return a punt for 85 yards for a touchdown than score front row tickets to Phantom of the Opera. I would rather hide my head in my hands and nervously await a pitch to Derek Jeter with a full count in the 9th inning of a tie game than nervously listen to my own heartbeat during the climax of a horror movie. The laughter, tears, and intensity that sports provide are second to none, and that is what keeps us hooked. That is what reels us in year after year, heartbreak after heartbreak, celebration after celebration.

Sports are all about passion, and a life without passion is not a life worth living. Whether it is sports, music, church, good food, sex, or charity that drive you, give yourself over to your passion 100% and your life will have been well‑lived.


Keep the Faith?


We wouldn't have it any other way.