Fans of Jesus and College Football

  My vacation went well.  Painting the house turned out to be a bigger task than I ever imagined.  I am not sure how much of the trouble was normal and how much was “the human element,” so we’ll avoid addressing that until the task is complete.

  Since the last post a lot of good things have happened.  Of course, ranking high on the list: college football has returned!  My Sooners are one win into a fresh season.  I didn’t get to watch the opening game.  For some reason local stations do not understand the intensity of the OU fan base in the Mississippi delta region.  My wife was patient, however, as we watched ESPN.  I didn’t have much interest in the game they were showing… I was watching the score updates scroll at the bottom of the screen.

  My love for the Sooners came early.  In Oklahoma you can say “Mom” or “Dad” before you learn to say “Boomer Sooner”… but you don’t let anyone know about it.  Contrary to rumors, graduating from High School doesn’t require identifying  three Sooners quarterbacks, Greg Pruitt, Joe Washington, Billy Sims, and the Selmon brothers… just don’t expect to be valedictorian.  Congressmen don’t have to be ex Sooners… but it helps.   You can even grow up in Oklahoma without even once wondering where in the world other fans get the idea they have a shot in the upcoming Red River Shootout… but we will look at you funny.  We wonder…. [Take Note: You do not get to ask whether we (ie. the Sooners) have a shot at this year's national title.  Even asking the question reveals such ignorance as to warrant immediate eviction.]

  Of course I grew up in a golden era of Oklahoma football… the 70′s.  Oklahoma was the king of the hill.  They ran the “Wishbone T” right into the college record books:  472 rushing yards per game… Greg Pruitt’s averaged 9 yards per carry.  The Sooner magic so filled the air, some of us were fans of the NFL’s ”Detroit Lions.”   “No” I am not exxagerating, and, “No” they weren’t any good back then.  In fact they were generally as hapless then as they are now.  Then and  Lions’ victories are to be savored… a long time… both of them.  But, back then, they had Steve Owens: Oklahoma’s ’69 Hesiman Trophy winner.  What more could you want? That was all the glory any team needed. 

During those seasons the Sooners averaged 30-40 wins every season!  Five or six in Norman, four or five on the road… the rest in my front yard.  Yes the Sooners played in my front yard.  All the boys in my family would gather and run the triple-option against whoever the unfortunate opponent was that week.  (On a “bye” week we’d blow out Texas, Nebraska, and Oklahoma State once or twice just for good measure.) 

 OK…OK… the truth will set me free… I have no brothers, and my sisters didn’t play football.  No problem.  It took four Sooners to run the Wishbone triple option, but I could do it all by myself.

   I, the quarterback, would walk up behind me, the center, and make my first read.  Was the imaginary defensive guy right on the center or in the gap, and where was the imaginary middle linebacker?  If they were out of position I would hike the ball to me, and hand it off to me the fullback right up the middle.  I’d have five or six yards before the imaginary safety ever touched me.  But, that imaginary safety better not get too careless; I might fake it to me… then slide down the line.  Once again I might hand it off… or I might pull the ball back out in another fake.  Imaginary defenses would be left standing in their shoes… completely lost.  Now it was just   me and the defensive end out on the edge where the big plays happen… would he go for me the quarterback or cheat out to keep me from pitching it to the trailing halfback… me?  Either way he goes, he’s toast… poor imaginary sap.  He won’t want to watch this on game film next week.  I am either going to cut up inside of him for big yards, or, if he tries to tackle me, pitch it to me around the end for a huge gain… probably a touchdown.  I even added another wrinkle… a fifth option… I would stop on a dime, drop back, and rifle a pass to myself downfield… wide open.  I could just walk into the end zone!   Oh yeah…I could not be stopped!!!

  Yes, I really was that good at one on none football.  It seldom took me more than three or four plays to score.  [I kicked field goals too... and did the punting, although every punt was one of Joe Wylie's famous fakes.] 

With all my success in the front yard, however, this will probably amaze you:  Barry Switzer never called.  No matter how tight the game… no phone call.  I know he didn’t have a cell phone, but there was that heavy cable with a rotary dial phone booth on the end.  I was never paged for my insights into the upcoming game.  The truth is, in forty-plus years of being a Sooner I have never even been on the field at Gaylord Memorial Stadium;  never put on the crimson helmet or a team jersey.  I have never sweated through two a days, ate at the team table, or boarded the bus for a road game.  My letterman’s hat is a gift from a former player.  In fact, as dominant as I was in my yard, and as adamant as I have been in support, my impact on Saturdays for the Sooners has been pretty negligible.  Well, its been exactly negligible… “0″.  Bob Stoops doesn’t have my number, Barry Switzer doesn’t know my name… I have never made any difference in even one Oklahoma Sooner football game.  I know, I know it amazes you, and it is rather painful to say it, but it is true.

  Understand, even though I may talk about how “we are looking good, coming off that win,” my “role” in the “we” is ”fan.”  Nothing more.  I am sure I humor God with the prayers that go up when we are behind, but my role on the team for the past 40 years has been “nada.”  I am just a fan living vicariously off the hard work and hectic schedules of the team. 

      Now fans are not bad.  When things go well they cheer, high-five, the whole bit, but they are not “disciples.”  When the great things happen “fans” laud, cheer, glorify, and praise.  Disciples praise… then go out to do likewise.  They go out to be in the world the glory they have witnessed.

  Jesus has lots of fans.  Facebook is running over with His “fan pages” (including, “Yes I love Jesus but I am not forwarding this to 12 friends”).  Jesus has lots of fans, but few disciples.  A lot of folks want to cheer Jesus… very few want to follow Him into the world.

Jesus didn’t pump his hands at the crowd for everyone to stand and cheer.  He said, “Come follow Me.”