Flak Magazine: Kick Out the Sports! 08.01.05

On July 30, the first 2,000 fans at the Nashville Sounds' minor-league baseball game got a souvenir of the Gospels' most famous decapitation victim without having to declare, "Bring me the bobblehead of John the Baptist!"

That's because they attended one of the Triple-A team's Faith Nights. A Faith Night is a baseball promotion born of the long-proven idea that there's no more efficient way to separate Christians from their money than to wrap whatever it is you do in the name of Jesus.

OK, maybe that sounds a bit cynical, but look at the results. Teams offering Faith Night have watched their attendance increase significantly when they mix church and baseball like chocolate and peanut butter.

A usual Saturday night at Greer Stadium in Nashville brings out 8,000 or so fans. Faith Night attracted 12,344 fans for a pregame Christian bluegrass concert, the aforementioned John the Baptist bobblehead (head not actually removable), and a 5-3 loss to the Sacramento RiverCats. What would Jesus do? Take in a Sounds game!

Faith Nights weren't necessarily invented in Nashville, but that's where the money goes. The official Faith Nights are syndicated by Third Coast Sports, owned by Mike Snider, who also runs an agency representing Christian musicians, allowing him to perform a little Christian synergy.

If you contract your Faith Night through Snider, brother of not-so-much-Christian troubadour Todd Snider, you get two musical acts, a souvenir for the fans and maybe even a player or two to come out and witness. Plus, Third Coast has hooked up with the makers of the Christian cartoon "Veggie Tales" to have Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber put in appearances, after which they are chopped up and served as concessions.

In return, the team has to buy 2,000 seats (to be resold by church groups) and let Third Coast sell sponsorships. The whole moneychangers-in-the-temple thing does not apply if the temple has four bases and a pitcher's mound.

The Sounds' Faith Night against the godless heathens of Sacramento was the seventh of eight the Sounds have planned. Nashville's Purity Faith Nights (Purity is the name of a local dairy — clever tie-in, ain't it?) have perks like bobbleheads of Daniel (of lions' den fame) and Queen Esther, a Bible giveaway, and a figurine of Don Mattingly. Don Mattingly? What book of the Bible was he in?

Mike Snider emphasizes that Faith Nights don't require teams to suspend beer sales or order fans not to use obscenities to heckle the umpires. But let's face it — it's clear this is not the night to get drunk, yell obscenities at the umpires and whiz on the bleachers.

(As an aside, I have seen a fan tossed for offending religious sensibilities. It was at the old Spectrum in Philadelphia, where a drunken lout — in Philly, go figure — spent the first half ripping hapless beanpole and former Mormon missionary Shawn Bradley by shouting witticisms as "7-foot-6 of pure Mormon!" and "Witness to me!" — in front of a bunch of science teachers from Utah who were in town for a convention.)

As you might imagine, Faith Nights are going over pretty well in the South. Sites for this year's Faith Nights include Jackson, Tenn., Johnson City, Tenn., and Tulsa, Okla. No wonder the Faith Nights have that Southern Baptist feel.

As you might have gathered, I'm not sure I'm sold on Faith Nights. They offend my feelings as a Christian about cashing in on Jesus. They offend my feelings as a Catholic about public displays of religion, except for part where they have the little statues and icons. They offend my feelings as a liberal about not favoring one specific faith over another. And they offend my feelings as someone whose father grew up in Boston about promoting the Yankees with that whole Don Mattingly thing.

However, with business being so good, and so many minor-league teams willing to use whatever they can to boost attendance, Faith Nights probably aren't going to disappear. The best hope to soothe any ill feelings is to appeal to the liberal side. Why not make them more inclusive?

There are many ways. The easiest, of course, is to have Interfaith Nights, but that just sounds so formless and Unitarian. So maybe Faith Nights can expand to all different kinds of faiths. Why not a Jewish version, with an Abraham bobblehead and klezmer bands?

The minor-league team nearest my house, the Windy City Thunderbolts, could draw on three of the area's largest demographics by having a specific Catholic night, with a Mary bobblehead and Irish bands; a black Gospel night, with an Aretha Franklin bobblehead and area church choirs; and a Muslim night, with a crescent-and-star bobblehead and Cat Stevens music.

There's no reason to limit this to the minor-league level. The Tampa Bay Devil Rays are located near the headquarters of Scientology. Its Faith Night could have a Tom Cruise bobblehead, music by Beck, and free e-readings for the first 10,000 fans. Hey, whatever gets 'em in the door, right?

E-mail Bob Cook at bobc@flakmag.com.