Every spring, March Madness briefly turns America into something rare: a nation cheering, arguing, celebrating, and commiserating together without tearing itself apart.
For a few weeks, we forget who is a Democrat, Republican, or Independent. We forget which states are “red” or “blue.” We forget the tribal labels that dominate much of American politics. Instead, we focus on something simple: which team plays the best basketball?
This year’s Final Four offered a striking indication of how different sports culture is from political culture. All four men’s teams—UConn, Illinois, and Michigan, plus swing‑state Arizona—hail from states that typically vote blue or lean blue. In the women’s championship, both UCLA and UConn come from blue states as well. And yet no one watching the games cares. No one said, “I can’t root for them; that’s a blue‑state team.” No one suggested that a team’s legitimacy depended on how its state voted in the last election.
In sports, we judge performance, not partisanship. We celebrate excellence, not ideology. We accept the rules, respect the referees, and agree that the winner is the team that scores the most points, not the team that shouts the loudest. When a call goes against our team, we may groan or disagree, but we accept the process. Officials review the instant replay, make the best judgment they can, and the game moves on. We don’t accuse referees of rooting for one side or claim the other team stole the game. We’re not happy, but we accept the outcome because we honor the system's integrity.
Imagine if our politics worked the same way. As Joe Kennedy of TheTeam.org often says, “Sports are a force for positive change.” Sports work because everyone agrees to the same rules and the same process, even when the breaks don’t go our way.
Sports don’t just entertain us; they train us. Kennedy notes that sports teach young people “teamwork, discipline, and the life skills essential for success beyond the playing field.” Those are the same skills democracy requires from all of us: the ability to compete fiercely without losing sight of the fact that we’re part of a shared project. In sports, you can root passionately for your side without believing the other side is the enemy. Democracy should work the same way.
Sports Give Us a Model We’ve Forgotten
Sports succeed as a cohesive force because they rest on three common commitments:
- A common rulebook
- A fair process
- A belief that each player is part of the same game
Those commitments are the basis of democracy as well. But in politics, we’ve drifted far from these principles. We no longer agree on the rulebook. We question the referees. We treat fellow citizens not as teammates in a shared national project but as enemies to be defeated.
In sports, you can be fiercely loyal to your side without hating those cheering for the other side. You can argue passionately about a blown call without believing the entire system is rigged. You can lose a game and come back next season without claiming the scoreboard was fake.
Why is that so hard in politics?
The Magic of a Shared Arena
When UConn plays Illinois, the arena fills with people from every background—different races, religions, incomes, and political beliefs. They sit side by side. They high-five strangers. They groan together when a shot rims out. They rise together when a player hits a three-pointer at the buzzer.
For two hours, they are not red or blue. They are fans.
Sports remind us we can choose to be teammates regardless of our background. We can choose to share an experience. Democracy requires the same choice.
What If We Were Partisan About Only One Thing: Democracy?
Imagine a country where Americans were as passionate about protecting democratic norms as they are about protecting a lead in the final two minutes.
Imagine if we treated voting the way we treat a championship game: something you show up for, prepare for, and take pride in.
Imagine if we believed that the legitimacy of the system and playing by the rules mattered more than whether our side wins on any given day.
In sports, the integrity of the game is sacred. Without it, nothing else works. The same is true in democracy. We don’t have to agree on policies or share the same ideology. But we must agree the process belongs to all of us and that the goal is not to destroy the other side but to keep the game alive.
Teammates for Democracy
The beauty of March Madness is that it gives us a glimpse of what America could be: a place where competition is fierce but fair, where merit is admired no matter where it comes from, where we can disagree passionately without dehumanizing one another, and where we can lose with dignity and win with humility.
We don’t need to erase our political differences. Democracy depends on them. But we must remember that we are ultimately on the same team, not Team Democrat or Team Republican.
We are Team America. Team Democracy.
If we can cheer together for a team from a state we didn’t vote for, we can govern with people who don’t vote like us. If we can accept the outcome of a basketball game because the rules were followed, we can accept election outcomes for the same reason. If we can be teammates in sports, we can be teammates for America.
March Madness ends every April. But the spirit it reveals—the spirit of shared rules, respect, and common purpose—is something we should carry all year long. This week, try one simple thing: have a respectful conversation with someone whose views you disagree with. Listen with curiosity. Cheer for their right to be part of the conversation, just as you would for any teammate. One honest effort at connection can keep the spirit of the game alive.
The question is whether we choose to.
David Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
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