When I was a boy, names like Walter Payton, Jerry Rice, and Dan Marino were hard to avoid. Kids like me pretended to be guys like them at recess. They could run & catch & throw a football like no one else on the planet, which made 1987 a memorable year in my childhood, not to mention the entire world of sports. These illustrious men, along with many of their athletically gifted contemporaries suddenly refused to play the game they were all so tailor made & handsomely paid to play. After appearing for the first two games of the season, 85% of the athletes in the National Football League went on strike, refusing to compete any longer. To their surprise, they were met with rigidly strong opposition from team ownership that would rival the most rugged linebackers in the league. One online article states, “The players had no idea just how determined the owners were to break their solidarity”.

On Sept. 10, the Chicago Tribune reported that the team owners voted unanimously to push through a player strike by signing “anyone willing to wear a uniform”. In response to the strike, they hired a ragtag group of bartenders, firefighters, and insurance salesmen to take the field in place of those who refused to do their job. The Washington Redskins hired a quarterback on work-furlough from prison. The defending champion N.Y. Giants found Mike Busch bagging groceries for $4 an hour, and hired him to replace M.V.P. Phil Simms. One way or another, willing men were found, rosters were filled up, and the game went on. Dallas Cowboys president Tex Schramm supposedly made the remark, “You guys are cattle and we’re the ranchers,” at a bargaining session that September. “And ranchers can always get more cattle”.

BARELY WORTH WATCHING…

These replacement players were hardly professionals. Sources report that “Four or five of them got together and bought a used car for 500 bucks so they had transportation. The hardest thing they had to do was find a coat and tie to wear on an away game”. Another article describes how, while playing in New York, “Cowboys’ receiver Cornell Burbage reached into the stands during the game, grabbed a package and placed it under the bench. It was a box of laundry Burbage’s sister had washed for him. He couldn’t afford to have his clothes cleaned at the hotel”. Mocked & scorned by the superstars they replaced and by the country that watched them, these men would quickly come to be labelled and forever remembered as “scabs”. Television ratings dropped, and for good reason. Instead of watching All-Pro wide receiver Jerry Rice, we had to watch a guy named Carl Monroe. Instead of Dan Marino, it was a water aerobics teacher from Texas named Kyle Mackey. I don’t remember any of my friends ever pretending to be Kyle Mackey at recess.

GOOD WHILE IT LASTED…

What turned out to be a momentous disappointment to thousands of NFL fans from coast to coast proved to be the thrill of a lifetime for the scabs. If only for a moment, nameless truck-drivers & bouncers were able to touch the NFL dream. And these men weren’t just “lucky” either. This was much more than some “good fortune”. These men, as unprepared & amateur as they were, had been sought out…chosen for one reason or another, to play on the same field, under the same lights, wearing the same colors, as the league’s biggest names. They didn’t win a lottery; they were offered a position. And they took it. And the only reason these guys ever got the opportunity to run with the ball is because someone else refused to stay on the field. These men played with the understanding that none of them deserved to be there, and that every game could be their last. The strike could end at any time, and if they were going to score any points or make any tackles, they needed to do it while they still had the chance to get it done.

In the end, the NFL strike of 1987 only lasted for a few weeks. The stand-off came to a close, the professionals returned to the field, and nearly all of the replacements were cut from their respective teams and sent back home. Three short games didn’t leave them with much time to make their mark in the NFL history books, but they did it. Maybe not individually, like the Dan Marino’s and the Walter Payton’s do, but collectively, as a team. They were “The Scabs”. And they haven’t been forgotten.

CHANCE OF A LIFETIME…

Jesus says that we are the “poor & the maimed, the lame & the blind” (Lk.14:21). God says He’s chosen the “foolish, weak, & despised” (I Cor.1:27-28). You & I were found in the streets & lanes of the city and given a last-minute offer to attend The Great Supper. We’re nothing more than a ragtag collection of factory workers, teachers, & retailers that were found in apartments, dorms, bars, & parking lots. We’ve been drafted into the biggest contest this world has ever known. And the only reason we were brought in from the “highways & the hedges” to play this game at all is because the first-round draft picks declined their invitation. It’s very likely that somebody else was supposed to be doing for Christ what you’ve been given the opportunity to do, but they just didn’t want to do it anymore.

I wonder how many of us hold positions in the church that were once filled by somebody else who vacated that position abruptly, out of self-centeredness or spite? Blinded by pride & distracted by worldly enticements, they forgot what a privilege it was to do what they do, and they walked off the field. But the Kingdom of God, much like the National Football League, won’t be cancelled just because someone isn’t willing to participate. The team roster is going to be filled no matter what. That’s why you were sought out. There was a vacancy, and you got the call; you’ve been made a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Now are you willing to wear the uniform or not?

It was reported that, “Most of the NFL’s scab rosters (in 1987) were stocked with ordinary dudes from all walks of life who were delighted to jump at the opportunity to play NFL football, even if only nominally and even if just for a fleeting moment”. That should be how we feel as Christians! We’ve been drafted into the service of Christ the King, contending for the glory of our Team Owner! We compete for an eternal prize, not one that fades away like the Vince Lombardi Trophy. We’re on the same field as Paul & Peter, and that should mean something to us! We’re playing under the same lights as Daniel & David, and no one should have to tell you what an honor that is! You’re wearing the same team colors as Jonathan & Joshua & Jacob, and if you aren’t jumping at the opportunity to serve the Lord, “even if only nominally, and even if just for a fleeting moment”, then you’re playing this game for wrong reasons. If you find yourself beginning to feel entitled, and you start entertaining thoughts of going on strike, please remember, it’s not beyond the Team Owner to find someone else with more passion than you have, and let them play in your stead. He’s done it before…

Ranchers can always get more cattle you know.

FINISH THE GAME…

The Washington Redskins were the team that would go on to win Super Bowl XXII that season, thanks in part to their replacement players (or “Scab-skins” as they were called). They pointed their team toward a championship year by winning all three games they were allowed to play. They weren’t professional by any means, but they took their call seriously and got the job done. In March of this year (2018; thirty years after their Super Bowl victory), Redskins team president Bruce Allen announced that the replacement players, the scabs, would all receive Super Bowl rings of their own for the small, but very significant role they played, in their team’s historic victory. Nobody would ever have thought it possible, but those “ordinary dudes from all walks of life” have now become official Super Bowl champions. And this, of course, would include Tony Robinson…

…the quarterback that was hired on work-furlough from prison.

Now, if you’re anything like me, you sometimes feel a bit vulnerable out here on the mission field; under-qualified & unprepared. Nobody needs to remind me that I’m not a professional. No one needs to tell me that someone else could do it better than I am. I’m just a scab. We all made it here on a fluke. But so what? Isn’t it thrilling? Let’s enjoy it while it lasts…even if just for a fleeting moment! Never again will you get an opportunity like this. Never. This is our shot. Let’s endure the mockery and play hard…as hard as we can. Don’t stop until this game is over.

We might not be much fun to watch, but we’re doing what we love; and we might not be too good at what we do, but at least we’re on the field. Nobody will ever know your name, but the world will always remember who we are.

We’re the Replacements. We are the Scabs.