INSULT TO INJURY: PIETY AND PIGSKIN: EVIDENCE THAT DEMANDS A VERDICT

Exhibit A: On the side of one of their buildings, the University of Notre Dame displays iconography that is clearly visible between the goal posts at one end of the football stadium. The image is of the risen Christ ascending to the right hand of God.

He is dubbed "Touchdown Jesus" by the loyal Fighting Irish fans because of the way his arms, stretched upward toward the heavens, resemble a referee signaling a score.

Exhibit B: John 3:16.

Despite Pat Summerall's insistence to the contrary, John 3:16 does not refer to Coach Madden's weight. It is apparently the favorite Bible verse among a growing segment of football fans who see fit to exhibit it on placards in stadiums throughout the nation.

Personally, I've always wanted to show up at a game carrying a poster with some obscure verse on it -- Ecclesiastes 10:1 or Isaiah 36:12 -- just to see how many people would look it up.

But I digress.

Exhibit C: The cover story in December's edition of "Life" magazine is about expressions of religious faith in America. Among the many photographs is one of a woman lying prostrate before an altar as she prepares to take her final vows as a nun. Just above it is a picture of Texas high school football players huddled in prayer after a practice.

Curious. All very curious.

Faith and football, piety and the pigskin, God and the gridiron. We have made the connection so often between religion and the sport of football that in the minds of many the two are inseparably linked. Even the most famous catch of all time, a pass from Terry Bradshaw miraculously caught by Franco Harris, has been tagged with an unabashed religious moniker -- the Immaculate Reception.

Now before anyone gets in a snit and mistakenly assumes that I'm some atheistic egghead who doesn't know the difference between a safety blitz and a nickel prevent defense, let me assure everyone that I am neither anti-religion nor anti-football. I know the words to both "Amazing Grace" and "On Wisconsin." And when Kansas City is losing, I've been known to offer a prayer or two. As poorly as the Chiefs have played this year I've worn several holes in the knees of my pants.

It's just this odd linking of the two that has got me puzzled. And it gets curiouser and curiouser with each passing year.

At first it may seem a stretch. Our image of football players is, after all, that of knuckle-dragging neanderthals with a win-at-all-costs mentality, roaring and gesticulating every time the quarterback is sacked or a touchdown scored. It is an image far removed from the baby Jesus meek and mild lying in a manger or the roly-poly Buddha seeking enlightenment through his solitary contemplation.

Still, in some ways football has become nothing short of a religion for its most devoted fans.

Really, it's not so strange, I suppose. Religion is, as psychologist Erich Fromm defined it, "any system of thought and action shared by a group which gives the individual a frame of orientation and an object of devotion." If that doesn't describe the reaction of some people to football, I don't know what does.

Go to some sports bar with a big screen TV on any given Monday night during the season and watch the faithful congregate before the set as if it were an altar, the Holy of holies. Those doubting the football-faith connection need only look at the fidelity of these fans. Even the most radical Shiite Muslims, airport Hare Krishnas or pompadoured televangelists don't have such devotion.

Give them tickets to the big game and they become like pilgrims journeying to Mecca on a hajj or the Hindu faithful readying themselves to bathe in the Ganges.

There they are, painting team colors and logos on their faces, standing bare chested in subfreezing temperatures, wearing blocks of plastic cheese or Viking helmets on their heads and whipping themselves into an ecstatic frenzy that would cause even the most whirling of dervishes to stop and take notice.

Then, for a two-month period -- beginning roughly with the four-day Thanksgiving weekend and stretching through the end of January -- the weeks of bowl games, the Heisman Trophy and playoffs become like a liturgical season, culminating in the high holy day: the day of the Super Bowl. Is it really any wonder the game is played on Sunday?

My prediction: the Vikings winning in the closing seconds of the game. A miracle finish. Imagine Minnesota down by three with time running out. Randall Cunningham puts up a prayer, a Hail Mary pass to Randy Moss for a touchdown.

Victory. Paradise. Valhalla.

Ah, if only the Saints were playing.

~Jeffrey Jackson is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.