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God Bless the USA & The Dodgers

by Tom Knecht, Professor of Political Science

I’ll discuss the semiquincentennial* — a word I just learned — through a topic that may seem totally out of left field: sports.

Why sports?

I’m working under a deadline for a book on the politics of American sports as well as this article, so I’m trying to kill two birds with one stone. But more importantly, I think sports can tell us a lot about what it means to be an American.

“Nation-states” and “sports teams” fall into a category of things — money, corporations, Valentine’s Day and zombies among them — that exist in our collective imagination but not in the state of nature. The land along either side of the U.S. border looks identical; only signs or fences can distinguish “here” from “there.” And with free agency and the NCAA transfer portal shaking up rosters every year, uniforms rather than the players now tend to define sports teams.

Saying that nation-states and sports teams exist in our collective imagination doesn’t make them any less real. The political scientist Benedict Anderson called nation-states “imagined communities” that unite complete strangers. We tend to feel it more deeply when good or bad things happen to other Americans. Maybe we shouldn’t, but most of us do. Similarly, I’ve been hugged and high-fived by random people at Dodger Stadium after a walk-off homer, a joyful sense of human connection bordering on ecstasy. Our nation and our teams can provide very real social bonds that give us a sense of belonging and tell us who is, or isn’t, part of our team.

There’s no guarantee that a nation-state or sports team can build a shared identity. In fact, both struggle with the same challenge: How to get a diverse group of people, each with their own identities and interests, to work together as a team.

They set about that task in a remarkably similar fashion.

Colors and Symbols. Americans learn from an early age to recognize the red, white and blue on the stars and stripes as our colors and our flag.

Every sports team has its own colors and symbols that carry special meaning to players and fans. Just think of how beautiful that Dodger blue is compared to those clownish, Halloween-themed uniforms the team up north wears.

Songs and Pledges. Most Americans learn the national anthem and Pledge of Allegiance in kindergarten.

Every USC fan knows to throw up the V-is-for-victory sign as the band plays “Fight On,” which annoyingly happens at least 97 times per game (unfortunately, more lately if they’re playing Stanford).

Myths. In this context, scholars use the term “myth” to describe (a) stories that most people in a given society know, and (b) define important values or describe fundamental truths to and for that society. Myths may or may not be factually true.

Consider the story of the Declaration of Independence. We all know that Americans got fed up with taxes, so the Sons of Liberty dumped a bunch of tea into Boston Harbor, all the while shouting “No taxation without representation!” Now we drink coffee. Some historians, including Niall Ferguson and Charles Arnold-Baker, have questioned that story, pointing out that the 1773 Tea Act actually lowered tea prices, which helped most colonists but hurt racketeers like John Hancock. I’ll leave it to historians to decide which version is most accurate, but the story teaches a fundamental truth of American politics: people should have a voice in the taxes they pay.

Sports are full of myths. When I watched the U.S. men’s hockey team beat Canada to win the gold medal a few months ago, I lost track of how many times NBC mentioned the 1980 Miracle on Ice. The 1980 U.S. men’s hockey team, a ragtag group of college kids, faced the four-time defending gold medalist Soviet Union in a semifinal game. In arguably the greatest upset in sports history, the USA defeated the Soviets 4-3. That win has become part of American lore: a story of how a scrappy band of underdogs took down the Evil Empire, and in doing so, united a divided nation and helped pull the United States out of its 1970s malaise. Is that story truth, hyperbole, or somewhere in between? That’s the thing with myths; it’s often hard to tell.

Ideas. Historians and political scientists often describe America as an idea and note that anyone can be an American. The Declaration of Independence states, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Of course, things in America have never been that simple. The country has never fully lived up to its high ideals, and we keep debating who is and isn’t a real American. Maybe we’d do better to think that being American means deliberating over fundamental principles, recognizing when reality falls short of aspirations and then finding ways to bridge that gap.

Ideas also define sports teams. Some have grandiose mission statements, like “Commitment to Excellence” (Las Vegas Raiders…ha!) or “Play Like a Champion Today” (which originally came from Oklahoma Sooners coach Bud Wilkinson but Notre Dame later ripped it off). Others characterize themselves by a strategic philosophy: The Steelers play D, the Chiefs throw the ball, and the Browns lose games.

A Common Enemy. Nothing defi nes “us” better than a hated “them.” Patriotism and national unity peak during times of war and conflict, such as World War II or the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks.

Certainly, heated rivalries abound in the sports world: Yankees/Red Sox; Michigan/Ohio State; Auburn/Alabama or �鶹��ýӳ��/Biola.

The Payoff Pitch

Being part of a team yields many great things and benefits, whether as a citizen, player or fan. We all need community and a sense of belonging, and things often work better when people give of themselves for the greater good.

But all this identity-building creates dilemmas. A lack of shared identity can result in a weak state or a losing team. Too strong of an identity can turn into hyper-nationalism or sports hooliganism. Lines between such extremes may not always seem clear. Patriotism can easily evolve into nationalism; good-natured trash-talk (which I hope you’ve recognized in my words) can quickly escalate into fights in the parking lot (which I very much wish to avoid).

It also raises dilemmas for us as individuals. What if we don’t feel like part of the team? What if we’re not allowed on the team? What if we believe the team is heading in the wrong direction? Can I say that my team is objectively better than others, or do I just prefer it? What if I have a different understanding of which team I’m on? And how does all this team talk fit with my faith?

Finally, it’s important to refl ect on our team’s state during this milestone: our 250th anniversary. Is our team united or divided? If divided, how can we come together?

So happy anniversary, America! And go �鶹��ýӳ��, Stanford, Dodgers, Rams, Lakers, Sparks, Galaxy and Dons!

*The day or year that is 250 years after a particular event, especially the independence of a country or the founding of a place.