You Think Sports Heroes Are a Myth? Say It Ain’t So

We’re told we don’t have sports heroes anymore. Or, that we shouldn’t.

We’re told that only suckers would confer heroic status on athletes, because we don’t really know them and, after all, they’re mere mortals not worthy of adoration. We’re told they’ll only let us down.

To be sure, some of the biggest names in the American sports pantheon have fallen to earth.

Pete Rose was kicked out of baseball for gambling.

Magic Johnson was promiscuous and acquired the virus that leads to AIDS.

Mickey Mantle has publicly acknowledged that he’s been an alcoholic for much of his adult life.

And O.J. Simpson is going to trial for a double homicide.

In the wake of all this bad news, some observers are debunking sports heroes and their place in American society.

Former Cabinet member William J. Bennett, author of the best-selling “The Book of Virtues,” went so far as to say after Simpson’s arrest that he wasn’t ever a hero but, rather, a celebrity. “We confuse real heroism with celebrity and confuse celebrity . . . with significance,” Bennett said.

Bennett’s observation is startlingly shortsighted because it doesn’t take into account the things Simpson may have done over the years that Bennett knows nothing about--such as efforts O.J. made with youngsters that may have improved their lives. Simpson may be the reason that untold numbers of kids stayed in school or left the streets. To those touched by Simpson or any athlete in a circumstance like that, the sports figure is a hero and rightly so.

There’s no shame in having sports figures for heroes. Embracing them is nothing more than recognizing the passion they add to our lives.

Much like athletes, great musicians or thespians can be heroic figures. So can politicians and soldiers. So can authors and painters and poets.

What the heroic ones have in common is being larger than life, made so by a combination of their extraordinary talents and their ability to perform. They must be able to rouse our emotions, bring us joy and risk our disappointment, but all the while elevating our sensations beyond that which we can do for ourselves.

The debunkers are right, up to a point. It would be great if every boy’s hero were his father, or if every little girl’s hero were her mother. But insurance salesmen and biology teachers will never suffice as public heroes, no matter how noble their everyday deeds.

The cynics say we’d have a better world if athletes weren’t seen as heroes. I say we’d have a poorer one, because it would be a world devoid of a child’s fantasies and of the sheer joy that comes when your hero comes through when it counts. A world without sports heroes might just as well be a world without sports and all that it can do to enrich our lives.

Yes, our fallen heroes have hurt us mightily. We invest so much of ourselves in their success or failure that we can’t help but be hurt emotionally when they falter. But the fact that we hurt so much only points out the powerful hold they have on us, and we must remind ourselves that those feelings are genuine and not shameful.

I’m a little too old now to come up with new heroes. But I’m not too old to recognize them.

This Tuesday night at baseball’s All-Star game, the fans in Pittsburgh plan to honor Roberto Clemente, the Pirates’ Hall of Fame outfielder who was killed in a plane crash in 1972. As a Pirates’ fan since 1958, I revered Clemente. His was a heroic presence for me--first as a boy but continuing through my teens.

Part of it was his manner, part of it was his style on the field. Both suggested a specialness that separated him from the rest.

Clemente died in a plane crash while delivering supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua. Try telling his native Puerto Ricans that Clemente was just a baseball player.

Those of us who have been through the hero-worship phase know it’s a risky business. We know we’re putting a little bit of our hearts on the line. But to give up on having heroes would be to give up a little of ourselves. It would be a concession that we’ll accept a world that’s less passionate, less fun.

I lament the downfall of sports figures, because I know the impact sports has on many people’s lives. In its purest form, that impact enriches people and makes them more whole. To say that athletes can’t be heroes is to misunderstand the society in which we live.

It hurts, and it hurts bad when a hero does an awful thing. The temptation is to walk away and say we won’t let anyone hurt us again.

At times like this, I’ll remember the Clementes of the sports world and remind myself that there are such things as real heroes and that we don’t lessen ourselves by saying so.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.