T
he idea of worship is seen as confined to conventional religious practice. Yet, maybe it is time that we broadened the idea to meaning an expression of awe and adoration for the secular world as well. A way to describe a dribbling swarm of life-sized Barbies idolizing the absurd antics of reality television stars spurting out junk through their collagen-filled lips. Maybe even the soulful melodies of a band that can sooth entire stadiums into a spiritual lull as they sway effortlessly to the music.
This paradox of secular worship is especially evident in the world of sport. The die-hard support of fans cheering on their team elicits a raw passion that overpowers any concept of rationality, a fervor that either can end in a euphoric victory or tears of anger and bitterness in the face of defeat. In one week alone, the emotional tumult of sport has catapulted many of us into frenzy, from the occasional spectators to the hardcore devotees.
My initial prediction of viewer turnout for the semi-final and final match of the Cricket World Cup was not an optimistic one. Boston was a far cry from the enthusiasm that India has for cricket. Just as baseball is deemed America’s favorite pastime, cricket is India’s equivalent. Whether on an empty street or in a field amidst bustling traffic, hundreds of children find makeshift wicket stumps and a ball, their only necessities. Bonds are forged with meandering strangers as players come and go from the game.
The Indian cricket team has evolved into an aspiration: these men are role models for many of the youth in India. The semi-final against Pakistan was definitely billed to be a heated affair but the outlying political tensions were forgotten in the spirit of the sport. As the final dawned here in Boston quite literally at half past four in the morning, fans woke up in droves, pumping with the adrenaline of the occasion. The atmosphere in the biggest democracy in the world reached a roaring climax. India emerged victorious as World Cup champions on home soil.
While India erupted in days of celebration, the University of Connecticut followed suit as they claimed victory at the NCAA tournament against Butler University. With the same universal electricity that surrounds big games, Connecticut and India, an unlikely duo, were bound by perseverance and determination. In the heat of the two finals, a camaraderie that can only blossom in the tension of sport grew to new heights.
You would assume that we have tapped into a “religion” that is so fluid and inclusive that any combination of devotion to music, sport and celebrity could yield a beautiful conclusion. Reality brought sharply into focus that this is actually not the case. The ugly truth reared its head just outside Fulham’s soccer stadium in England just two days ago. Mohamed Al Fayed, Egyptian tycoon and the current owner of the Fulham soccer club had just unveiled a statue outside the ground: a life sized tribute to the late Michael Jackson.
The statue that resembles a plastic doll stares manically into the distance, his sequined jacket paired with equally horrendous black track pants. One hand clutches a microphone while the other, covered in his signature glove, makes a fist. The statue, made out of plaster and resin, looks like it is about to run off its pathetic black podium and hide in the nearest bush or greasy hot dog stand on a match day. In a sport that rests on the ideals of reckless tackling, shouting obscene chants and cursing out a referee, the less plebeian glamor of concerts, glittering outfits and whistle stop tours around the world in luxury are unbearably disconnected.
We can delve into Michael Jackson’s repertoire and recall some of his lyrics to encapsulate the situation: “It’s big, it’s bad, really, really bad.” When greeted with justified outrage from the Fulham fans, Al Fayed declared indignantly, “Why is it bizarre? Football fans love it. If some stupid fans don’t understand and appreciate such a gift, they can go to hell. Or they can go to Chelsea. They can go to anywhere else.” In baseball, that’s the equivalent of telling Red Sox fans they can go to the Yankees. Fulham’s public relations department must have been weeping in a corner.
In a society where stadiums and their occupants are surrounded by an aura of sanctity, where do we draw the line between healthy worship and crazed obsession? India’s victory in cricket, paired with the University of Connecticut’s resounding win, show that amidst the ferocity on the fields and courts, there can emerge something truly beautiful.
There are few phenomenon in the world quite as astounding as hearing the roar of thousands of fans singing in unison, their voices floating up from the stadium and into the air or the way your heart stops the split second before the sweet sensation of triumph sends tingles down your spine. Bizarrely, loyalty for the teams we love is so deeply rooted, I know that even if Fulham’s owner planted the entire Jackson family in resin outside the stadium, thousands would still flock to their sporting sanctuary.
Sofiya Mahdi is a freshman at the College of Arts and Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at sofiya218@gmail.com.
This is an account occasionally used by the Daily Free Press editors to post archived posts from previous iterations of the site or otherwise for special circumstance publications. See authorship info on the byline at the top of the page.
