“Bowl Games, Better Angels, and the Occasional Bruised Ego”

Is there something to be said about our better angels and our yearly obsession with college football bowl season—this grand American ritual where we rejoice in victory and secretly (or not so secretly) delight in the downfall of our perceived enemies? I think so. I’ll admit it right up front: I’m genuinely excited that the teams I pull for—Wake Forest and Duke—are heading into postseason play. I’m as susceptible as anyone to that little jolt of pride, that impulse to shout at the TV, or to believe, for about three glorious seconds, that my cheering actually influences the outcome. It’s all part of the fun.

But beneath the joy of it all, there’s a cultural hum that’s harder to ignore. The idea that “We’re number one!” isn’t just a chant—it’s practically a worldview. “Kicking ass and taking names” has become our unofficial motto, not just in sports but in business, politics, international relations, and even family life. Winning and losing have become our default measuring sticks for almost everything.

And yet this is entirely contrary to what Jesus taught, what the Buddha taught, what Laozi whispered across centuries. None of them ever said, “Blessed are the champions,” or “Crush your opponents,” or “The Way belongs to those with superior red-zone efficiency.” They pointed instead toward compassion, humility, and interconnectedness—things that rarely make the highlight reel but consistently make life more humane.

So perhaps we’d be wise to hold off on the victory parades and the field storming (fun as they are). Maybe we pause and notice what arises in us when our team wins, or when our political “side” triumphs. Do we feel joy? Of course. But is there something else lurking beneath it? A flicker of contempt for the “other” team or group? A quiet (or loud) wish to see them humbled or humiliated?

Our better angels invite us to notice that—and maybe even smile at ourselves a little. We’re human. We get swept up. But we don’t have to stay swept up.

And here’s the real kicker: it isn’t far-fetched to imagine a world where everybody gets to “win”—not with trophies, but with enough food, adequate health care, meaningful work, safety, dignity, and belonging. Everyone. No exceptions. Not even that one team you just can’t stand.

So cheer for the Deacs and the Blue Devils. I will. Let the games be fun, not fuel. And may our enthusiasm stay rooted in joy—not in the illusion that someone else must lose for us to fully live.