COMMENTARY : The Games We Play Are Celebration of Life

They will be playing the national anthem before the New York Giants play at San Francisco and before the Los Angeles Raiders play at Buffalo today, and before the Super Bowl next week. It will be just as it is routinely before ballgames and hockey games all over the country, except for the inevitable moment of silence and the zeal with which the “Star-Spangled Banner” will be received.

A moment of reflection should go with it like the warning on the cigaret pack: Be aware of the distinction between pride and gloating, between love and hatred. It shouldn’t be a sack dance or an exaggerated spiking of the ball.

The first recorded playing of the anthem at a sports event was at the Yankees’ opening day in 1917, during World War I. Baseball has been using the anthem regularly since 1942: Give tribute to our men at war. It was baseball’s self-appointed duty to remind us. My answering machine plays a bit of Duke Ellington’s rendition, because it has come to be the Baseball Song. Friends on car phones used to joke that it was difficult to stand up and continue driving.

I’ve changed my message for fear of over-interpretation.

Television brought us the sight of U.S. aircraft touching down in Saudi Arabia to the cheers of American men and women lining the tarmac. Each safe return was literally a touchdown. Those people cheered -- I trust -- the return of their own. It was not in-your-face.

Historically, men in combat have had a greater respect for the enemy than had those safe at home. Athletes seldom demean their opponents, even if the fans do. The players seldom gloat, even if it is more common in the time of in-your-face.

Allied losses were small on the first night, a reason to cheer. They were devastating to the family of the one American flier reported lost. We must revere all life, even if the Iraqis do not; even if they are capable of using poison gas.

I remember at Fort Bragg, in the dayroom that we hardly ever were allowed to use in the daytime, there was this string of lithographs of great military encounters. One was of the victory at Tripoli, the American commander admonishing his troops: “Don’t cheer, men; those people are dying.”

Perhaps times have changed; that was back in the brown-shoe Army.

Perhaps not. Perhaps we still can cheer the safe return of our own without gloating over the suffering of others.

Perhaps we can take the ballgames for what they are. Life goes on and they are part of our life. It was so important for Saddam Hussein to portray that life in Baghdad was going ahead as normal -- like the quarterback gasping that the lineman hadn’t hit him hard at all -- that he permitted CNN reporters to go on with their stunning broadcast through the hail of fire. When he thought CNN’s presence no longer suited his purposes -- when truth was too much -- the network was closed.

It should be life going on as normal here, but it can’t be life as normal and it shouldn’t be. There is the paradox. Playing the ballgames doesn’t demonstrate a superiority of our society as some people will inescapably feel. The games are really quite trivial, and many of the people playing have had divided concentration during practice.

If there is any kind of superiority, it may be the option of going to the game or staying home, of the option of watching the games on TV or of watching the news as it unfolds in a manner the world never before has seen.

We all remember where we were at historic times. I was a child at the movies and when I came home my parents were listening to the radio telling them the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. They knew what Pearl Harbor was. The clips from Dec. 8, 1941, tell of the announcements at the Polo Grounds, where the football Dodgers were playing the Giants, calling for servicemen and some specific officers to return to their bases but not saying that war was on.

I was playing punchball on Walnut Street when a friend’s mother called out the door that FDR had died.

A bunch of us were playing touch football in Hempstead -- Larry Bearnarth was playing that day -- when Anita, my wife-to-be, came by from Hofstra and told us JFK had been shot. We joked for a moment that it was probably minor; none of us could fathom the thought of the American president being assassinated in his own country. We ran a few more plays and then nobody wanted to play anymore.

Wednesday night Anita and I were going to dinner with friends when the first word came in this time when war comes home with the speed of light. And then nobody really wanted a fancy dinner; we had to be home for the president’s news conference. The crowd at the Syracuse basketball game was advised that the game would continue, but that they might want to be home for the news conference at 9.

It suits us to play the games as scheduled -- to be changed if circumstances change. The North Carolina-North Carolina State basketball game was canceled; they play miles from Fort Bragg, the home base of so many of the American troops. That got to the heart of the matter. Maybe nobody will want to watch the football games, but we know better.

It would be nice if we could stop the war for the games. The ancient Greeks stopped their wars for Olympic games. Soldiers in World War I stopped shooting on Christmas Day to share a cigaret or a bit of brandy in the name of the Prince of Peace. Then they resumed killing on all sides.

The thought of terrorism here is strong. The danger is not imagined. I’ll get to the airport early to accept security. If the threats to our gatherings are substantial, then shut them down; play them in empty arenas if necessary. We shouldn’t permit ourselves to become paralyzed by hysteria.

There was a scheduled blood drive at the office Thursday. I felt compelled to give. Maybe it will save a life.

The games are a celebration of life, not of anyone’s death.