

Thank the Lord that Dungy can say God easily


MIAMI -- Tony Dungy was at it again Monday morning. He was barely a minute into the day-after news conference when he invoked the dreaded L word. Lord.

As in thank the . . .

"The Lord was preparing us to go into that playoff stretch," Dungy said.

The standard reaction would have been for eyes to roll. Then for someone to write, "Funny, I thought the coaching staff was in charge of playoff preparation. When did God stop worrying about global warming and start worrying about Tom Brady?"

But there was none of that, which capped an amazing Super Bowl week for Dungy. For all the attention he received for being one of the first black head coaches in the Super Bowl and leading the Colts to victory, perhaps his most amazing feat was making it socially acceptable to thank God.

Athletes have been doing it for years, of course. Most of the time it's greeted with a scoff, as in, "Yeah, yeah. Do we have to hear this again?"

The funny thing is that if the athlete got up and thanked their blind dachshund, it would be fine. If they said they drew strength from rubbing mayonnaise all over their bodies, we would nod and ask what brand.

But when they say they were inspired by a Bible verse, the Malarkey Alarm goes off. Like in the 2004 baseball playoffs when Curt Schilling declared, "Tonight was God's work on the mound."

You want eye rolls? That one had half of New England seeing double.

I can't look into a man or woman's heart and gauge their sincerity. But I can guarantee you they usually don't get the benefit of the doubt.

Aaron Baddeley quietly recited his favorite verse throughout the final round of last year's Verizon Heritage. He said it helped him cope with the pressure of trying to win his first PGA Tour event. When Baddeley made a 6-foot putt to win, he said, "That's for you, Jesus."

Judging by the reaction, he would have been better off saying, "That's for you, Osama."

"We've got war, starvation, natural disasters, and God is preoccupied with your 6-footer to win?" wrote one Internet poster.

Frankly, my God is powerful enough to multitask. But Baddeley never said his putt was more important than world peace or God wanted him to win more than Jim Furyk. He merely said he drew strength from his faith.

A bit of cynicism is understandable. The entire religious exposure many have these days consists of watching televangelists try to bilk shut-ins out of their welfare checks.

Then there are incidents like Eugene Robinson, who accepted the Bart Starr Award for "high moral character" before the 1999 Super Bowl, then was busted for soliciting a prostitute. It's easy to assume all the jock/Christians are false prophets hell-bent on promoting an evangelical agenda.

I've been around enough to know some are overly pious, some are hypocrites, some are slightly wacko. But most are sincere.

They are happy to share their beliefs, but they rarely force them on anyone. If we don't want to hear what they think makes them successful, we shouldn't ask the question.

That's what makes Dungy's Super Bowl performance a groundbreaker. He mentioned doing things God's way so often, somebody finally asked him what that means.

"That just means doing things the right way," he said, "and having players care about each other."

No, he never said it was God's way for Indianapolis to win. Though somewhere up there, the L-word was probably celebrating. Not that the Colts won. But that nobody scoffed when their coach explained why.

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