Which Values Matter to Conservative Sports Fans?

“I can only give the praise to my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, for giving me this opportunity,” Pederson said, when asked how he could explain his rise from high school coaching to a professional-level pinnacle. “Glory to God, first and foremost,” Ertz followed. “We wouldn’t be here without Him.” Next, Foles called the moment “unbelievable,” and gave “all glory to God” for experiencing it.

These declarations of belief and thanks weren’t for tackles and touchdowns—there was no “God is an Eagle” or “He steered that field goal straight”—but for life itself, and the feeling of being blessed. Athletes and celebrities sometimes misuse the verb “humble” to describe this sentiment, as in, “I’m humbled to be here.” But these Eagles were showing humility, in the religious sense of the word.

To a significant percentage of the country, this likely is the behavior of role models. Take conservatives: 78 percent of them were “absolutely certain” of their belief in God in 2014, per Pew data, and 70 percent said religion was “very important” in their lives. This is the same group that was broadly turned-off by NFL players kneeling during the national anthem this season. Eighty-two percent of conservatives disapproved of the protests in September 2017, per a CBSNews/YouGov poll, and 70 percent of them disapproved “strongly.”

Some conservatives stopped watching the league because of the demonstrations, though according to available data, it’s almost certainly a modest number. But many more spoke up about the issue, to the point that football itself became heavily politicized this season: President Trump led the battle in this campaign of the culture wars, and was joined by Vice President Pence, White House counselor Kellyanne Conway, and the Nebraska and South Carolina governors.

What would they and the fans upset by the anthem demonstrations think of Pederson, Ertz, and Foles? If a fan’s approval of an athlete is dependent on the athlete’s values, it’d follow that many conservatives upset by Colin Kaepernick also would praise the Eagles quarterbacks—Foles as well as Carson Wentz, the team’s injured star QB whose Christian motto is that he plays for an “audience of One.” The characteristics of these men are not under-reported: CBS Sports, one of the many outlets to document them, wrote in October that Philly’s “already-hefty contingent of players grounded in their Christian beliefs . . . has expanded in 2017 to the point that it’s virtually become linked to the team’s core.” The Philadelphia Eagles are practically a conservative Christian’s dream team. (In addition to being the NFL’s best team, too.)

Yet for every condemnation of anthem protesters, there have been approximately zero cheers for the Super Bowl champions’ makeup. Their team’s identity was noted in right-leaning or religious press around Super Bowl weekend—the Deseret News and Pat Robertson’s Christian Broadcasting Network, for example, have published stories—and Ann Coulter clumsily dedicated a few exclamation points to Foles on Sunday night. But there’s been no widespread embrace of the Eagles commensurate with the total revulsion for the anthem demonstrations. If values matter—if they are reflected so abundantly that they can be used to make a cultural point, as with Philly—why the discrepancy?

And that’s “discrepancy,” not necessarily “hypocrisy.” It could be that the comparison is asymmetric: that the anthem protests are intertwined with partisanship, which is a driving influence of American culture, as well as race. The Eagles, whose identity is apolitical, don’t attract a similar level of emotional investment. Expressing dissatisfaction and expressing admiration have different electric charges; the former sentiment tends to be higher-voltage. The same can be said of politics: In this world, a person’s political values are more notable than—and even inextricable from—his personal ones, like faith or disposition toward a neighbor.

The NBA’s Stephen Curry is the epitome of this example. Were it not for LeBron James, the Golden State Warriors guard would be the face of the league. And it could have no better chief ambassador: Curry is gracious, hardworking, devout, a family man—and yes, he’s humble, too. His on-court swagger dissipated during his thoughtful awards speech for league MVP in 2015. The first 10 minutes are worth reading in their entirety. But one verse in that top section deserves special attention: when he asked the room to give his wife a round of applause.

Curry ought to be highlighted as a superstar athlete with a model life-perspective. But the characteristics that make him such an exemplar are not the only characteristics he has. Curry does not like President Trump. He said after his team won the NBA Finals last year that he did not want to visit the White House. And those are the characteristics that Trump used to define him:

Values with which most right-of-center Americans presumably relate are represented well in American sports: If it’s not the Eagles or Curry, it’s Curry’s teammate, former league MVP Kevin Durant; Seattle Seahawks quarterback and Super Bowl winner Russell Wilson; and Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershaw, perhaps the best hurler in baseball history. But their traits are not wrapped in politics, which is the substance that motivates public officials to issue press releases and causes American culture to combust.