DOES DEION SEND RIGHT RELIGIOUS MESSAGE?

Byline: Simon Gonzalez Fort Worth Star-Telegram 

Deion is in church, speaking to about 6,000 young people. As he talks about his Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, he raises his arms heavenward in a gesture of praise.

Deion is on the football field, playing against the Chicago Bears. After scoring a touchdown on a punt return, he raises his arms heavenward in a gesture of praise.

Deion Sanders - admitted former practitioner of a hedonistic lifestyle - dedicated his life to Christ about five months ago. He is the latest of a growing list of prominent athletes who have chosen to make their beliefs public and use fame as a pulpit to profess their faith.

``The Lord has blessed me with a beautiful platform that I can touch thousands, perhaps millions, of people,'' said Sanders, the Cowboys cornerback. ``I can get in households and homes that some pastors, ministers and evangelists can't get into.''

Religious leaders agree with Sanders' statement. They view it as a positive. Because of society's intense interest in sports, they say, star athletes such as Sanders can reach great numbers carrying out the ``Great Commission,'' Jesus' post-resurrection command to ``go and make disciples of all nations.''

``We're in what I think is an exciting time in history,'' former Rangers catcher Jim Sundberg said. ``God is working in a lot of places that we haven't seen him work in the past. I think God is using athletes and other celebrities to share the gospel.''

There's also a potential downside, both on the playing field and from the pulpit.

On the playing field, teammates often question an athlete's commitment to the sport. Discomfort with a new lifestyle often leads to tension in the clubhouse or locker room.

From the pulpit, say religious leaders, there's the danger of the listener placing faith in the celebrity messenger and not the message. Faith then becomes a fad for the fan, rather than a belief system.

Athletes open about their religious beliefs have always been treated with suspicion about their motives. Sanders has received criticism from outsiders, including media members who remember Sanders as a calculating pitchman who crafted an image based on appeal to advertisers.

Sanders expected nothing less when he went public with his beliefs.

``I could have stayed in the closet, but why should I hide Jesus?'' he said. ``I don't hide my cars, I don't hide my clothing, I don't hide the jewelry and the gifts God has bestowed upon me, and this athletic ability I've been blessed with. Why should I hide Jesus?''

Often, openly religious athletes are derided as ``God squadders'' and perceived by some teammates as well as managers and coaches as having lost their dedication to winning.

One of the most well-documented cases occurred with the Minnesota Twins, when third baseman Gary Gaetti, a hard-nosed, hard-living player and team leader of the 1987 World Series champions, became a born-again Christian. Some teammates said his lifestyle change off the field negatively affected his play.

``In Minnesota, (Christianity) was kind of looked down upon,'' said Dodgers shortstop Greg Gagne, who played next to Gaetti on the Twins' infield. ``For Gary, it was a difficult situation. He ran at night, partied, did whatever he wanted to do, and then when he came to Christ, he had to answer to a different person. He had to answer to God. That caused some problems in Minnesota.''

The ``soft'' label, by and large, is a thing of the past, though, as tough, gritty athletes such as heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield and team leaders such as Green Bay Packers defensive end Reggie White, Rangers pitcher John Wetteland, Houston Rockets center Hakeem Olajuwon and Stars forward Bob Bassen have shown that deeply religious athletes are every bit as tough as the next athlete.

``It's my experience that the closer my relationship to the Lord is, the more passionate I am about everything,'' Bassen said. ``That doesn't mean I'm going to go kill someone on the ice; I'm just more passionate about the game, competing, just going out and doing your job.''

Olajuwon has often credited his turnaround from a moody, sometimes out-of-control player to a recommitment to the Muslim faith in 1991. ``Sometimes people have the wrong impression of what religion is supposed to be,'' he has said. ``In Islam, you're supposed to be the best of mankind. ... That isn't a sign you are weak. That's strength.''

But a player openly trying to convert teammates can cause discomfort, if not outright tension, in a clubhouse or locker room.

``I've had players get on me about, `Hey, I don't want to hear it. Stay away from me,' '' said former Dodgers center fielder Brett Butler, who recently retired after 17 years in the major leagues. ``You are ostracized at times because you don't fit into that clique of going out and drinking and chasing women and doing drugs and whatever.''

Sundberg said that was definitely the impression he got when he broke into the big leagues in 1974, but it improved greatly during his career.

``There was a mind-set, at least from the players' standpoint, that you chewed and swallowed nails and you bit the tops off beer cans, and you had a great time,'' Sundberg said. ``Baseball Chapel was still in the setting-up stage, and it was met at times with real aggression in the clubhouse. Players would make comments to other players who were on their way to chapel.''

That is no longer the prevalent attitude in big-league clubhouses, but it does exist.

Sanders, who has given testimony at churches in Irving, Dallas, Atlanta and Cincinnati, said he hasn't heard much of that type of talk in the Cowboys' locker room. But he witnessed attitude changes toward him among teammates with the Cincinnati Reds and Cowboys when he declared his devotion to Christ.

``It's funny how your friends change when you accept Christ,'' he said. ``You've got to realize when you get caught up in sports, when you get caught up in that life and you've got so much money and so many people that think the world of you, you start to think it's you. You can easily get caught up in that glamorous life, and you don't want to hear anything different.''

There is at least a small concern in the religious community that an athlete with the right intention might be spreading the wrong message.

``It's great, the enthusiasm that a guy like Deion has, but there's always the downside to somebody who's new in the faith to be out and preaching before they're really on solid ground themselves,'' said Vince Nauss, executive director of Baseball Chapel. ``When someone becomes a Christian, it's very important that they become grounded in the word of God and know what they believe and be nurtured themselves before there's too much pouring out to other people.''

There's also a potential problem of impressionable people drawn by the celebrity status of the messenger, such as Sanders, and not focusing on the message.

``They're attracted to a celebrity, and they get wrapped up in a person as opposed to what the person is talking about,'' Nauss said. ``If you're a high-profile celebrity, you have to make sure that the message is clear and it's clear that you're not the one that people should follow. You see it time and time again that people are always going to let you down.''

John Weber, field ministry director for the Fort Worth/Dallas chapter of Athletes in Action, is concerned that the American consumer mentality - wearing a brand of shoes because that's what Shaq wears, drinking a beverage in an attempt to ``be like Mike'' - will attach itself to faith.

``As Dr. Howard Hendricks from Dallas Seminary would say, the danger in America is that Christianity is a mile wide and quarter of an inch thick,'' Weber said. ``I can't live on my father's faith. My children can't live on my faith. We cannot live on the faith of Reggie White or Danny Wuerffel or John Wetteland.

``As good as those men are, each one of us needs to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. We can emulate their example and really be blessed by the strength of their personality and their consistent spiritual life, but it is up to each person.''

Still, an athlete can point someone in that direction. That's what Sanders is trying to do when he speaks at churches and when he raises his arms toward heaven on the football field.

``The question is, does it lead them to a false life, are they trying to live something out that's just a fad?'' said Kevin Harlan, chief of staff for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, an organization with 6,300 chapters in schools from junior high through college. ``I tend to think that God can even use that, the fad aspect, to draw people to him. We believe if it starts them asking the question, then God will answer.

``A professional athlete has an effect and is a role model to many students, whether they are willing to accept that or not. We see it on the negative side. You see the increasing amount of bad sportsmanship that occurs in junior high and high school sports, and I think they're simply reflecting what they've seen modeled on the professional level.

``So yes, I do think it can cause a student to begin to explore. `I wonder what that means that Deion is saying, or that David Robinson is saying. I'd like to understand more about that.' ''

High-profile athletes being guided by their faith and talking about their beliefs is not a new phenomenon.

Eric Liddell refused to run in the 100-meter dash in the 1924 Olympics because the heats were on a Sunday. Liddell, who later won the 400, spent the Sabbath preaching in a Paris church instead of running.

Sandy Koufax refused to pitch on his turn in the 1965 World Series to observe Yom Kippur.

Orel Hershiser went from World Series Most Valuable Player in 1988 to the ``Tonight Show,'' where he sang the doxology (``Praise God from whom all blessings flow.'')

After upsetting heavyweight champion Sonny Liston in 1964, boxer Cassius Clay announced his devotion to the Islamic faith and changed his name to Muhammad Ali.

But there have been more and more outward expressions of faith in recent years. In fact, it's difficult to find a high-profile event, from a national championship football game to a Super Bowl or NBA Finals, without a star player dedicating his effort to God.

Bill McCartney was the University of Colorado football coach when he formed Promise Keepers, the nationally successful men's ministry, in 1991.

Football players from the high schools through the pros now routinely kneel in the end zone to give thanks after scoring a touchdown. Players from opposing teams often form prayer huddles at midfield after NFL games.

The Packers' White credited God for healing a torn hamstring that doctors said would require surgery in late 1995. Holyfield was supposed to be finished as a boxer when he was diagnosed with a hole in his heart in '94. He also said he was healed by God, and two years later, Holyfield beat Mike Tyson.

Rangers outfielder Juan Gonzalez said that putting God and family before baseball led to his MVP season in '96.

``People before, even though they may have a strong faith, they did not speak up,'' said Max Helton, founder and president of Motor Racing Outreach, an organization in existence since 1988 that ministers in the world of motorsports. ``I think what has happened is people realize, `I have a platform.' Jeff Gordon tells me he sees his racing as merely a platform to express his faith in Christ.

``That is something that is kind of new to athletes in recent years who have realized, `Boy, there's a lot of people out there who will listen and I do have a responsibility before God to be a good witness. Therefore, I use my racing or my football or whatever it may be as a platform to share my faith.' ''

It is done in ways that are overt - ``glory to Christ'' statements in postgame interviews, speaking to groups - and sometimes more subtly. Wetteland puts Scripture references alongside his signature when asked to sign a baseball.

``I believe that's a lot more important than my autograph,'' Wetteland said. ``My autograph is ink on paper, and it's a man's name. I'm fallible. But Scripture is life. I want them to get something more than just an autograph.''

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PHOTO Hakeem Olajuwon of the Houston Rockets credits his religious beliefs with curing his moody ways.

Associated Press