SPORTS AND LIFE: Lessons to Be Learned - a football quarterback discusses sports

USA Today (Society for the Advancement of Education), March, 1999 by Jeff Kemp

In this context, sports taught me that there are rules of life I must heed. What would a football field be like if there were no sidelines, end zones, or yard markers? What if the goal posts were moved in the middle of a game? What would basketball be like if the court had no boundaries and the player dribbling the ball had no limitations? What would keep him from running into the bleacher section? Who would say he needed to make a basket to score? What would a track meet be like? Who would determine the winners in a race if the officials threw away their stopwatches and turned their backs on the runners? Without life's rules--that is, without universally acknowledged truths--there is no form, no function, no way to prefer one kind of action or outcome over another.

Value systems

Sports are elevated life. They are noble and ignoble, beautiful and ugly. They reveal the best and worst of human nature in an action-packed arena dominated by intense emotion. When sports commentators repeat the old cliche about "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat," we all know exactly what they are talking about. As players or spectators, we have experienced both. Yet, underneath the adrenaline rush is something even more powerful: our value system.

Sports, in other words, reveal what we treasure most. In 1988, I was playing for the Seattle Seahawks against my old team, the 49ers, when I learned firsthand that there are two competing value systems. I wasn't bitter that my old team had traded me, but I wanted to beat them all the same. Quarterback Dave Krieg had been injured, and I was to start. I had a great week of practice and felt totally prepared. I entered the Kingdome in Seattle brimming with excitement. I envisioned leading my team to victory and establishing myself as the Seahawks' starter.

Coming out of the pregame meal, one of the offensive coaches put his arm around me and strongly affirmed his faith in me: "I want you to know how happy I am that you are the Seahawk quarterback. I've been waiting for this day." I felt honored, valued, esteemed. This was going to be a great day!

Well, we ran the ball on our first two plays, and we didn't gain much. On third down and eight, I threw to Hall of Famer wide receiver Steve Largent, who split two defenders. The pass hit him right in the hands, yet he dropped the ball. Next to Jerry Rice, Largent is, statistically speaking, the greatest receiver in history. He also is one of my best friends. All I could do at that moment was chuckle and moan, "Steve, what's the matter? You never drop the ball. Why are you doing this to me?"

After that, he didn't make any mistakes, but I did. In fact, I played the worst game of my life. At the end of the first half, the 49ers were ahead 28-0. Every person in the Kingdome, with the exception of my wife (and there isn't even a witness to vouch for her), was booing me. Have you ever heard nearly 60,000 people booing you? It's quite an experience.

As I came off the field at halftime, I knew that I might be benched, but I wasn't defeated. Ever since I had been a small boy, my father had been drumming into my head British Prime Minister Winston Churchill's brave words to the students at Harrow School in the dark days of 1941: "Never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never--in nothing, great or small, large or petty--never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense."