Praying for a Win

The year is 2004. Bob Hohler, a sports reporter for The Boston Globe, has been covering his favorite team, the Boston Red Sox, for a few years now. While it would seem like a dream come true for any New England native, it was sweet torture for Hohler. Why? Because the Red Sox were cursed.

“I grew up knowing, in my heart, that the Red Sox were predestined to fail,” said Hohler. “My father grew up like that. His father grew up like that. We knew that, no matter how far they got, somehow they would find a way to lose.”

After selling Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees, the Boston Red Sox would be haunted by the “Curse of the Bambino” for 85 years. While some called it a hoax and the result of fake superstition, others called it the work of God.

“There is a great religiosity that came with being a Red Sox fan pre-2004,” said Hohler. “Some people went to church every day; some people went to Fenway Park every day. Religion and faith were as common in the Red Sox’s baseball dugout as peanuts and crackerjacks were in the stands.”

But the passion that Red Sox fans felt for their cursed team was not unique. Many sports fans tiptoe back and forth between the line of fanhood and faith, barely distinguishing the difference between praying for a win and praying for world peace.

According to Boston University Religion Professor Yair Lior, there is something special about the way fans, specifically in America, embrace sports.

“In Europe, you definitely see young guys walking around in Messi and Ronaldo jerseys and maybe some other soccer paraphernalia, but you would never see an 88-year-old man in Europe wearing a jersey the way 88-year-old men in America wear baseball caps,” said Lior. “It’s a way of life here. And if you compare it to religion, you know, religion is all about symbolism and it’s no different in sports. People are drawn to the colors of their teams, the mascots, the players and what all of them represent. The deification of athletes, synchronization of chants at stadiums and feelings and sentiments of awe and reverence and ecstasy that come from sports certainly exhibit characteristics of religiosity.”

Lior explained that the purpose of religion, from an evolutionary standpoint, is to bond individuals within communities through shared experiences, rituals and end goals. Its function is to put your faith into something intangible for a beneficial end result that transcends life itself. While that viewpoint does seem a tad dramatic when applied to sports, it’s not necessarily incorrect.

For instance, take this year’s Super Bowl. The Patriots were in a 25-point deficit and Martin Weissgerber (CGS ‘19) hung his head in defeat during the fourth quarter. But then, something miraculous happened—the Patriots scored. Curious to see if it would happen again, Weissgerber lowered his head once more and, low and behold, the Patriots scored again. Eventually, the Patriots went on to overcome their deficit and win; Weissgerber will argue to the death that his actions directly impacted the outcome of the Super Bowl.

“At that point, I was praying and swearing and crossing my fingers and hoping so much that I just couldn’t bear to look anymore,” said Weissgerber. “But as soon as they started scoring, I knew that I had been heard by someone or something, because the Pats started coming back. I wasn’t about to risk changing anything about where I was in that moment, because something seemed to be working. You don’t mess with that kind of stuff when it’s working.”

Professor Lior, on the other hand, will argue that such thoughts are simply one thing: foolish.

“These people who partake in superstitious activities and believe that an impact is made are, in some ways, extremely self-centered. Who are you that you think keeping your head down made the Patriots win?” said Lior. “But that is the implicit belief behind faith—that there is some kind of force here at work, and that if we can somehow tap into it and coerce it, it will benefit us. It’s not quite prayer and it’s not quite magic, but it’s something. It’s a collective activity that overwhelms and excites us and when everything turns out and we get that win, it only reinforces our ideas that yes, we make an impact as fans and viewers. What faith we have.”

But not all fans that led with blind faith lived to be rewarded by their teams. When the Red Sox beat the Curse of the Bambino in 2004, Hohler claims there was almost as much bitterness as there was happiness for the curse’s demise.

“The day after the Red Sox won, the Boston cemeteries were packed,” said Hohler. “People went and covered graves with Red Sox hats and gloves and baseball bats, because their family members had died living and wanting that moment so badly, and never got to see it. There were a lot of tears shed that day. Is that religious? I’m not sure. But it sure as hell felt religious.”

Hohler explained that, while the argument against the glorification of sports is certainly valid, it is also static and bothersome.

“How can people say that there is no validity in being a sports fan? Sports is the fabric of fans’ lives as much as religion is for many,” said Lior. “Their holy relics are the team’s jerseys and gloves, and their holy ground is the ballpark. The reason people get so wrapped up in the game is the same reason others get wrapped up in things like the theatre and museums. They use sports as a sanctuary away from the evils of the real world, and isn’t that the same reason people go to church on a Sunday morning? It is an essential part of the human experience to direct your faith into something you can’t control—and for many, that faith is in sports.”

The deification of athletes, synchronization of chants at stadiums and feelings and sentiments of awe and reverence and ecstasy that come from sports certainly exhibit characteristics of religiosity.”

BY SOPHIA LIPP | PHOTOGRAPHY BY CALLIE AHLGRIM | DESIGN BY SHANNON YAU