We’re just finished one of the greatest events in American televised history, the Superbowl. Millions of American will collectively watch the game and the commercials with a fanatic devotion. Stories of the Patriots dominance, their blessed [cursed] leader against the formidable-yet-underdog of Matt Ryan and the Falcons. Swaths of the American populous with fevered dreams or nightmares will come together to see this story unfold in the only way we know how. No more than 3 minutes of action at a time and as many commercials as can possibly fit into the 3 hour epic.

And at the end, heroes will be crowned, villains will be vanquished, gilded stories will be carved into the unblinking eye of history and no doubt someone’s going home unhappy. [Fingers crossed it’s Brady. Crying. Circa 2007]

If this sounds like some gratuitous descriptions of football, I’d probably agree with you. I’m exaggerating to make a point. Hyperbole! Thank you 8th grade English.

But! [Aaaannd… 8th grade English shutters] There is no doubt that being a fan of American football is a bit of a religious experience. In fact, being a devote fan of any sports team is pretty akin to low stakes religion.

Mass opens every Sunday for 16 weeks, where some will pray, some will perform elaborate ceremonies, and many will passively participate because, hey it’s Sunday and that’s what you do. The culmination at the Superbowl is greeted with the same enthusiasm as an American holiday [complete with the basic tenants of America; drinking and consumerism].

Fanbases wear the same clothes in the same colors. We quote the same writings, debate points that really couldn’t have an answer [Greatest player/catch/goal/rivalry/etc of all time]. We hate the other team and every fan of that other team, even though they like and do the exact same things we do, but in a different color.

We invoke religion and sports in the same sentence all the time; “God is a football fan” or some semblance of the idiom is common. Players thank God for great moments. People pray they win a wild card spot or make a miracle run. Angels in the Outfield??

And I’m not coming at this with hate, I love it. Watching the Rangers play a division rival in MSG is awe inspiring.

Thousands of fans cheering and yelling, everyone laser focused on the game. A goal goes up and the crowd explodes with Heys and Highfives. If they win, it’s a great day. And if they lose, well, it’s probably Giradi’s fault.

And during playoffs? I’m glued to the screen, decked out in officially merchandised gear.

The benefit of having a low stake religion is enormous. There is this sense of community, whereby I can shout “Let’s go Rangers” at anyone wearing a sweater and it’s always well received. I have things I can talk about and care about, narratives and stories that matter and are interesting. I can tie my own happiness to the collective work done by people that will never know me and won’t really care. But much like a faith, it’s a community I choose to be a part of.

It’s nice actually to have things that really don’t matter, matter a whole lot. We can cheer on our heroes and boo the villains, revel in the fighting narratives simply because we enjoy the drama. There aren’t these moral quandaries or social quagmires. Sports are great because to put such high importance on things that aren’t really that important and gives us an outlet to share.

So I hope everyone had a good time at the Superbowl Sunday, a strangely eclectic US holiday. If not, I hope you consider watching more sports and find pleasure in bringing a passion to inconsequential things that bind us together. Over water-coolers or in front of a TV, at a stadium or in a bar, whatever your type of worship, please join in a shared sense of unity at a time when the chasms that otherwise divide are overwhelming. [Unless you’re a Flyers fan. Then you can f*ck off.]