Why are Atheist Athletes Rare?

Last year, NFL punter Chris Kluwe made headlines because of his atheism.  The reason for his newsworthiness, as the writer of this Psychology Today report on Kluwe notes, is that “open secularity is rare in pro sports.”  This is something that has puzzled me since writing my atheism book several years ago.  Why are atheist athletes rare?

You can find all sorts of atheist lists on the Internet.  These include such categories as famous atheists, celebrity atheists, and top atheists in the world.  And it isn’t just atheist apologists that provide these lists.  There are also prodigious Wikipedia lists of atheists in various fields, including politics and law, science and technology, and arts and entertainment.

But try finding a similarly expansive list of atheist athletes.  Here’s the best I could do: 19 Famous Athletes Who are Atheist.  This is a classic case of exceptions proving the rule.  Pretty slim pickings.  I found it interesting, for starters, that they couldn’t even find one more to make it an even twenty.  (They should add Kluwe, since he’s not included.)  And it is supposedly a list of “famous” athletes.  Yet, as an avid sports buff, I only recognized five people on the list.  Moreover, some of these reach way back, such as to an Italian cyclist from 70 years ago.  And another is a WWE wrestler—isn’t that better categorized as acting?  After reading through this disappointing list, I discovered the Top 15 Athletes Who are Atheist.  But it largely overlaps with the list of 19 “famous” atheists above.

So why are atheists so rare in professional sports?  I have a theory, but to explain it I’ll need to start by discussing the primary rationale that atheists and religious skeptics give for not believing in God.  This is the problem of evil.  Lance Armstrong has been quoted as saying, “If there was a God, I’d still have both nuts.”  This statement encapsulates a common intuition about human suffering and religious belief, which essentially constitutes an atheistic argument:  God would not want humans to suffer significantly.  However, there is a lot of suffering in the world.  Therefore, God must not exist.  If you were to interview all of the atheists listed in the sites above and ask them why they reject theism, most if not all of them would cite suffering as a major reason.  But these men and women are not unique in their awareness of suffering.  All serious athletes are well acquainted with pain.  And here may lie the clue to understanding why atheist athletes are rare.

To do intense athletic training is to welcome a degree of suffering.  Athletes understand the usefulness of pain as a means to physical conditioning and mental toughness, which ultimately means success.  No pain no gain, as the saying goes.  Consequently, we should expect athletes to be less inclined to see suffering as antithetical to good ends.  And to become accustomed to linking these two things—pain and gain—is to gain a deeper existential awareness of how suffering is essential for growth in all of life, not just athletics.

This in turn will enable the athlete to recognize that God can work through painful experiences generally to bring about greater goods in people’s lives.  So he or she will be more ready to affirm with the prophet Isaiah that it is good how God gives us “the bread of adversity and the water of affliction” (Isa. 30:20).  And just as the difficulties and challenges one faces on the court, diamond or gridiron make one better, the athlete will be likely to affirm with the apostle James that our trials in life have a constructive end, namely to make us “mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Jas. 1:4).  Such an attitude might not create a perfect immunity to atheism or religious skepticism, but it certainly could prevent one’s faith from being undermined by the problem of evil.  And this might explain why atheist athletes are so rare.

On Football, Dogs, and Athletic Achievement

I love football, particularly of the NFL variety.  So for fans like me, this is the most exciting time of the year, as the playoffs begin next week.  Of course, post-season play is the most exciting time in any sport at any level, but in the NFL it’s especially thrilling, because it’s a single elimination tournament culminating in the single most viewed sporting event of the year—the Super Bowl.

I follow the NFL closely—well, at least as closely as one can without the benefit of television or lots of free time.  I do manage to watch a few regular season games, usually those featuring one of my favorite teams—the Colts and the Saints (a great regular season for both of these teams, and their fans, by the way).  And I’ll be sure to watch all of their playoff games in the coming weeks.

Yesterday, while playing fetch with my dog, my thoughts drifted off to football.  Not random daydreams, my thoughts were inspired by the fact that my dog is quite a nimble beast—fleet of paw and amazingly elusive.  Watching him romp in the yard is a treat, as he can stop and start on a dime and instantly accelerate to a full sprint.  As a young, 50-pound standard poodle, he might be rather ordinary, but compared to humans his athleticism is impressive.

So the thought occurred to me that has occurred to many football-loving dog-owners:  How would an NFL team fare against my dog, or any dog for that matter, if they had to run him down on the field?  Of course, this premise has been the subject of a few silly films over the years.  But consider this:  If dogs were allowed to play in the NFL and if a dog such as my standard poodle could be given the IQ of, say, a human 7-year-old, then that dog would be the MVP of the league.  In fact, he would easily be a Hall-of-Fame player.  How so?  Well, no one could catch him.  Even the best NFL defenders would look inept trying to tackle him.

What position would he play?  Clearly you wouldn’t want to play the dog at quarterback or wide-receiver, where good hands are a must.  Nor would you want to give a dog the task of blocking or kicking, for obvious reasons.  So, granting our canine friend the right to carry the ball in his mouth (which isn’t illegal by NFL rules, as far as I know), the position of running back becomes an obvious choice.  Also, kick or punt return duties would be a possibility.  In any of these positions, once the dog gets possession of the ball, forget it.  He’s gone—leaving a trail of flailing defenders in his wake.

Yes, it’s a silly suggestion that conjures funny mental images.  But it also raises some interesting questions, both about football and athletics generally.  First, what does it say about football as a sport that a dog with the IQ of a first-grader would be a dominant player, probably the greatest the game has ever seen?  I don’t have any answers to proffer here—at least not yet.  I simply pose the question for your consideration.

Second, this is a good reminder that much of human athletic achievement, as impressive as it is in so many sports contexts, is a species-centric thing.  True, only humans can play tennis, golf, baseball, hockey, and many other sports.  But when it comes to running, jumping, swimming, and some other basic athletic skills, the animal kingdom puts us to shame.  It isn’t just cheetahs, horses, and greyhounds that can outrun Olympic gold-medal sprinters, but even cats, raccoons, and squirrels can do so.  And I suppose there are thousands of species of fish who can swim faster than Michael Phelps.

So the next time you’re blown away by the speed, power, or agility of a professional athlete, you might want to put his or her ability in broader zoological context.  And when you’re watching your favorite team in the NFL playoffs in the coming weeks, just consider how much better they would be if they had my dog returning kickoffs.