The ultimate arrogance of sports might be the paranoia felt every time a bomb explodes.
As if terrorists care who wins the Tour de France.
Or we should wring sweaty hands with concern that golf’s hallowed grounds at St. Andrews might be the next target of an unholy war.
To believe the Olympic Games might have inspired bloody murder trivializes the pain felt by mothers and fathers from every horrific death in London.
When asked by reporters in Scotland if fear could scare away competitors from this week’s British Open, golfer Ernie Els had the perfect response.
Els rolled his eyes.
“It could happen right here, where we’re standing,” said Els, unable to avoid the subject of terrorism. “It could happen anywhere.”
News flash: The world is a dangerous place. And games are played in the real world, with the possible exception of high-stakes poker.
Each time a bomb blows up, reams of videotape and barrels of ink are wasted concocting another Black Sunday scenario for sports, which only stirs the fear, sadness and anger that are more powerful weapons for terrorists than a ton of TNT.
At a time when Americans jump at shadows, here’s what sports can do to help:
Get a grip.
After explosions in the subway and a bus splattered London with the blood of dozens killed during Thursday’s rush hour, knees jerked with kicking and screaming that $500 million allocated for security at the newly awarded 2012 Summer Games was not enough.
Excuse me, but if half a billion bucks is insufficient spending on metal detectors, bomb-
sniffing dogs and barbed wire, then maybe the bigger problem is Olympic Games that have become too fat and self-important to police themselves.
For violence to touch Lance Armstrong at the Tour would not require a secret directive from Osama bin Laden. Any lunatic who stands along the course with an empty wine bottle is capable of sending Armstrong to the hospital.
It can happen. Just ask legendary Belgian rider Eddy Merckx, whose bid for a sixth victory in the world’s most famous bicycle race ended with broken ribs and a busted kidney at the hands of a crazed spectator. In 1975.
Should law officials clamp down with a heavy hand to combat foul play at the British Open? Please. Golf tournaments already have a marshal hiding in every bunker.
In Washington, where the scars of terrorism still feel raw years past Sept. 11, I rode the subway to see the Nationals play baseball and walked the floors of the Smithsonian during the 24 hours after the attacks in London.
When a soldier carrying a gun patrolled a crowded car rumbling through the dark tunnel beneath the streets of D.C., faces of passengers seemed to tighten with grim reminders of old fears before relaxing as the boots marched on.
Tragedy eventually will stain a major sporting event again, just as it did at the 1972 Summer Games in Germany, because evil always finds a way to slip through the cracks. But a city bus is a much softer target for a terrorist than a walled stadium.
Family and friends have asked if this is a smart time to travel to the United Kingdom for a golf tourney. What is a guy with an airplane ticket to the British Open supposed to do as an alternative? Sit in the basement, lower the blinds and watch Texas Hold’em on TV? Now that really would be folding to irrational fears.
All you have to do in sports to be a hero is smash a baseball 400 feet, ride a bike 100 miles without falling or sink a putt in sideways-blown rain.
We give athletes standing ovations for bravely playing on in difficult times. And those life-affirming cheers can help mend broken hearts in the audience.
But a test of courage?
Courage is not standing over a golf ball on the first tee at St. Andrews.
Bravery is walking down the steps to London’s Underground and riding the same train line where a loved one’s life came to an end.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-820-5438 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
