Southern Faith, Football And Everything in Between
(ANALYSIS) Sports analyst Paul Finebaum is often called the voice of Bible Belt football, but he has never had the luxury of preaching to one choir.
The war between Auburn University and the University of Alabama has, for example, verged on a crusade, with fans so devoted some seem possessed. In the most infamous moment on “The Paul Finebaum Show,” “Al from Dadeville” (Harvey Updyke) offered this explanation, quoting former Alabama football player Tommy Lewis, for his poisonous attack that killed Auburn's hallowed Toomer's Corner oak trees: “I just have too much ‘Bama in me.”
But there’s more to Finebaum’s ESPN flock than Southeastern Conference shouting matches. He often allows regular callers — “Squirrel,” “I-Man,” “Jim from Tuscaloosa,” the late, beloved Tammy “War Damn Eagle” Bullard — to veer into commentary about grief, health issues, personal tragedies and answered prayers.
“Paul Finebaum truly listens to what Americans have to say, and as a result he hears a lot of God talk,” noted Matthew Schmitz, editor of Compact, an online magazine that blends progressive economics with cultural conservatism.
Writing for First Things, he added: “On a recent show, Legend — known for his bravura calls and the 15 years he spent in prison for murdering his cousin — reassured listeners that he was fine after being unceremoniously ejected from the Southeastern Conference’s media days. 'I've actually really been being blessed by the Lord.' ... He also admitted that he may have been at fault for the recent dustup. 'Pride and ego, those are horrible things. I asked God to deal with me.’”
Yes, some of this may be a sign that talk-radio listeners are often old, retired or in jobs — trucking, for example — with time to ponder the puzzles of daily life. When Southerners testify about suffering and their own mortality, these are rarely secular subjects.
“They're going to talk about things that are real, and they’re religious. If the host has faith in his listeners, lets them speak their minds, that's more than a media strategy,” said Schmitz, reached by telephone. “This is a populist approach, and it's vital to American democracy. ... Finebaum is saying that faith isn't something that needs to be shoved out of public life.”
After years of listening to Finebaum, most of his listeners are aware that, while he was born in Memphis, he is a practicing Jew and grew up in New York.
In a New York Times interview, he said that he could, after many years of football travels on weekends, write a book called “Synagogues of the SEC.” But Finebaum has also said that — with his wife, Linda, who was raised Methodist — he has considered converting to Catholicism.
In his First Things essay, Schmitz noted that Finebaum has made it an annual tradition to welcome a Vatican diplomat onto his show, with the Alabama-born Archbishop Joseph Marino taking questions about faith, football and some that mix faith and football.
During one visit, “Tim in Atlanta asked the archbishop how he could overcome his hatred for his late father, who hadn't left him a dime,” wrote Schmitz. “Mitch in Texas informed the archbishop that he ‘became an Alabama fan and a Catholic almost within the same year.’ Joe in New York City talked about his addiction and said he really wanted 'people to come back to the Catholic Church.' Tre in Tuscaloosa asked the archbishop how he could do exactly that and requested prayers for an Alabama victory over Indiana in the College Football Playoff.”
Over the decades, Finebaum has demonstrated a sincere appreciation of Southern culture, whether that is expressed in Saturday games or Sunday services, said Schmitz, who lives near New York City.
The big idea is that “you can trust the American people, even if you don't take them seriously 100% of the time. ... I think many people, including journalists, would be surprised by the way religious faith is often a source of unity, not division. Lots of people aren't yelling about religion. They're connected by it.”
What about Finebaum?
“I believe in God and very strongly in faith, but it has been a challenge to find my way,” he told the Times. “As I got older and opened my eyes to other things, it really helped me. ... It's a lifelong journey for me.”
He paused.
“Whatever that means.”
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Terry Mattingly lives in Elizabethton, Tennessee, and writes Rational Sheep, a Substack newsletter on faith and mass media.