The Sacrament of a Championship

Tonight Texas A&M played Notre Dame for the NCAA national championship.  It was a great game - in fact the best game I've seen on t.v. all year, men's or women's.  The game was well played and well coached; the athletes played with remarkable a combination of athleticism and fundamental skill.  At least one of them, Skylar Diggins, will be one of the greatest to ever play the game and may be one of those players who elevates the quality of the sport as we know it.

Yet what matters most tonight is not the significance of the championship or the thrill of victory and the agony of loss.  It wasn't how far the teams had come or how many others they'd defeated or their will to win or the most valuable thirty points of Danielle Adams.  All in all winning or statistics are not so important and is never what's moved me about this game.

Tonight the liturgy of sport was on display in layers beyond the obvious. 

We saw and celebrated many shapes and sizes of women there on the court, bodies and abilities to be celebrated whether wide or skinny, stocky or thin.  We saw and honored a vast array of personalities - fiery and fierce and cool and unemotional.  We saw small kindnesses like a Notre Dame player helping up a fallen Aggie and young women trying to get their old coach to dance on national t.v.  We saw the integrity of two first rate coaches and players who were articulate and available. 

We didn't see families or early morning workouts or teams sitting in study hall, but that's all part of it too, whenever the ball goes up at center court.  Persistence, belief, community, ritual and the diverse beauty of these young women and the people who love them, that's what mattered most tonight.

Our sport is not yet so tainted by scandal and money.  It's empowering little girls and offering life-long lessons on strength and work ethic and belonging.  It's crossing all kinds of lines - race, gender, sexual orientation, economics.

Texas A&M won tonight, their first championship ever in women's basketball.  Coach Gary Blair was a class act, Texas accent and all.  They'll be remembered longer on those lists of champions, but that's almost besides the point.  A liturgy like this is never about outcomes.  It's the work of the people, and its power transcends the championship ritual itself. 

How could you not love this game?  How could you not want every little girl you know to catch a piece of such a sacrament?