The Case of the Fishy Sport

I’m not what you would call a religious man, mostly due to how much time I spent as a child in a galaxy far, far away, where men in robes taught the spirituality of The Force. But on occasion I enjoyed waxing philosophical with Reverend Roy at the No Really, This is The First Baptist Church of Springfield.

On this particularly blazing hot Saturday, the Rev and I were walking around the pond behind the church, debating whether Harry Potter was a well-written character or a gateway wizard to pagan idolatry.

“Revered,” I said, “many of the spells Harry uses were lifted straight from the Book of Revelation…or so I’ve heard. I’m not sure anyone understands that book.”

“It’s difficult to understand many books, such as Deuteronomy and Finnegan’s Wake,” Roy said, picking up a rock and skipping it across the pond. “Oh, I just can’t keep up with you today, Ace. My mind is on other matters, namely insurance.”

“Now that’s a higher power we both can agree on. What’s the problem?”

“I want to sponsor a fishing contest for the children here at the pond, but I don’t think our CGL will allow it.”

The topic of faith brought about many unanswerable questions, but this was the first time that insurance did the same. “What are you talking about?”

“One of the CGL’s exclusions says, ‘This insurance does not apply to Bodily Injury to any person while practicing for or participating in any sports or athletic contest or exhibition that you sponsor.’ Obviously that would preclude coverage for child participants in a fishing tournament special event. Just think of what would happen if one of the kids was severely injured and the church is found liable!”

“Whoa, whoa right there, Reverend. For that to be feasible, one must believe that fishing is a sport or athletic contest. Who in their right mind would think such a thing?”

He put his hands together and nodded in that contemplative manner that holy men often do. “ESPN covers competitive fishing tournaments, so it must be a sport.”

“But they also show a lot of grown men yelling at each other, so their endorsement doesn’t mean much. And we can’t look to the Olympics either, since they include silly hobbies, like synchronized swimming and sailing, next to real sports, like table tennis and trampolining.”

“So who decides what’s a sport and what’s not?”

“That’s a good question,” I said, staring out over the water, “and a fine kettle of fish.”

How will Ace answer the Reverend’s prayers?