In the grand scheme of things, why do sports matter?
In America we pour billions, if not trillions, of dollars into sports at levels from Little League to high school to college to professional every year.
Parents pour out hundreds for their kids to play sports growing up, and, more often than not, there’s no monetary return on that investment, no scholarship. People dig deep into their pockets to be able to see professional athletes compete. What do we gain out of that? A few hours of fun and a lot of money gone.
I hate clichés. I was taught to avoid them like the plague. But the cliché that sports matter far beyond what happens on the field and bring people together is overused for a reason — it’s true.
If you care about sports enough to read this column, you already know about the death of José Fernández. It hurt Marlins fans. It hurt baseball fans.
Before Saturday’s football game, IU Athletics announced the death of former IU football coach Terry Hoeppner’s daughter, Allison. It’s been a decade since Hep last took the field, but fans still honored her with a moment of silence.
When I was in high school, the mother of two girls on my bowling team died. We had just lost the state championship, but losing her hurt us more.
As humans, we don’t like to be reminded of our mortality. Other people’s deaths do that and — possibly worse — lead us to hypothesize of the possible deaths of loved ones. I’ve cried numerous times looking at the Marlins Twitter feed. During the moment of silence for Allison Hoeppner, I teared up a bit.
In both cases, as well as when my friends’ mom died, we’re able to find comfort in the sporting community.
Again, as cliché as it is, people come together in times of need.
In sports, that’s especially important because we throw away our biases and for a moment sympathize for another team.
When athletes, coaches, family members and others die, there’s more than the immediate family and friends to comfort each other. There’s a family of teammates, fans and other supporters present to console one another. We aren’t left to fend for ourselves. José Fernández’s family won’t be alone. The Hoeppner family won’t be alone.
My bowling family wasn’t alone, and that’s what got many of us through the months that followed and through the next couple of seasons.
Eventually, with the help of others, we move on. You have to throw on that jersey and step up to the plate again. If you’re Dee Gordon, you’ll hit a leadoff home run. Life goes on, and it gets easier.
I can’t speak for the Fernández or Hoeppner families, and I can’t pretend that because I lost someone close to me I know just what they’re going through. However, I can say sports alone don’t matter.
The communities we build around them, however, are what keep us going.
