Playing anthem less might mean more
Back in the day, there was an episode of “Happy Days” where Richie and Potsie wanted to become members of a pranksters club, and as their initiation, they had to do six deadly dares. Stuff like tying people’s shoelaces together and making prank phone calls.
(Oh, that dares were still like that nowadays.)
One of the dares involved standing up in a packed movie theater and singing a patriotic song, in this case, “My Country Tis of Thee.” When the boys started belting it out, everyone looked at them like they were crazy. But then a man and woman in front of them joined in.
“Hey, stand up,” the man said after a bar or two. “You’re American. Sing.”
It got a huge laugh. I was reminded of the bit by resident “Happy Days” historian, Berry Tramel, while we talked about the latest StarSpangled squabble. Perhaps you heard earlier this week that NFL owners approved a policy regarding player behavior during the national anthem. Stand if on the field. Remain in the locker room otherwise. Any players on the field who “do not show respect” for the anthem will draw a fine.
This stems, of course, from the silent, peaceful
protest of players who have sat and knelt, raised fists and linked arms to draw attention to racial inequality and social injustice in this country.
Those are life-ordeath issues. We need to do something about them. We need to fix what’s broken.
And yet, as I marvel at the players who risk scrutiny and scorn and maybe even their careers by peacefully protesting in this way, I am reminded of that “Happy Days” clip. How silly it seemed to be singing a patriotic song in that setting. How out of place.
When you stop and really think about it, the national anthem at sporting events feels the same way.
Why do we play it before games?
It’s become the norm, of course. From the smallest high school game to the biggest pro event, the national anthem is synonymous with sports in this country. Everyone knows that in those moments before the game starts, everyone will stop for the “Star-Spangled Banner.”
(Or at least everyone’s supposed to stop; don’t get me started on how many fans are talking or walking or looking at their phones or doing a million other things that aren’t respectful to the national anthem and how some of the those folks crow the loudest about players kneeling.)
But as accepted as the
national anthem has become before games, there so many other instances where it could be played but isn’t. We don’t do it at concerts. Or musicals. Or speeches. Or meetings. And no, Potsie, we don’t do it at movies either.
We haven’t always done it at games either.
According to historians, “The StarSpangled Banner” made its debut at a sporting event on Sept. 5, 1918, but it wasn’t before the game or even really by design. It happened during Game 1 of the 1918 World Series between the Boston Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs. What should’ve been a fun day in Chicago was instead clouded by events of the day; deaths from World War I were skyrocketing and Chicago was reeling from a bombing by union workers that had killed four and injured more than two dozen. Players were somber. Fans were melancholy.
Then during the seventh-inning stretch, the military band — it was common for one to be at games in those days — began to play “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It wasn’t our national anthem. It wouldn’t be for more than a decade. But when the song began, one of the Red Sox infielders who had served in the military turned toward the flag, snapped to attention and gave it a salute.
Other players stopped, put their hands over their hearts and started to sing.
Fans did, too. When the song ended, cheers erupted. The New
York Times called it “the highest point of the day’s enthusiasm.”
Sensing something unique and special, Cubs brass directed the band play the song again during the seventh-inning stretch in each of the next two games. The reaction was bigger and better each day.
The Red Sox front office seized on that momentum when the series moved to Boston. It moved the song to the pregame and paired it with the introduction of wounded soldiers in attendance. As you might imagine, fans roared their approval.
Over the next decade, big-league baseball teams used the song regularly but not daily. It was played during the World Series and holiday games.
Not until after World War II did “The StarSpangled Banner” cement its place in our sports landscape. It became our national anthem in 1931, and in 1945 after the war, then-NFL Commissioner Elmer Layden ordered it be played before every game. The directive quickly spread to other sports.
“We must not drop it simply because the war is over,” Layden said at the time. “We should never forget what it stands for.”
It stands for freedom, of course — but all these years later, how that freedom is expressed has caused great hue and cry. We shouldn’t walk away from the issues that are at the heart of this derision, but perhaps it’s time to retire the regular playing of the national anthem at sporting events.
If it’s a game involving a national team, go for it. World championships. Olympics. Ryder Cup. Any event like that, cue up the Francis Scott Key.
But what would really be lost by not playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” before the Browns play the Ravens or the Royals play the Yankees?
Would we slight our military?
Would we dishonor our country?
Would we lose our patriotism?
Sure doesn’t seem so. We don’t say the Pledge of Allegiance before games, and that’s not seen as unpatriotic. We don’t sing the anthem before Broadway shows or Justin Timberlake concerts, and that’s not seen as a slight or a disservice either.
Frankly, if we started doing those things, it would seem as odd as Richie and Potsie belting out a patriotic tune in that movie theater.
Our country would not collapse if we stopped playing the national anthem at sporting events. Truth be told, if it was no longer a pre-programmed tradition that many people see only as an opportunity to hit the concession stand or go to the bathroom, it might have even more meaning.
If we heard it less, we might actually appreciate it more.