Savenor serves as the Executive Director of Civic Spirit that provides training in civic education to faith based day schools.
Framing America’s longstanding love affair with baseball, Rabbi Solomon Schechter once asserted: “In order to be a success in the American rabbinate, you must be able to talk baseball.” While these words from the head of the Jewish Theological Seminar a century ago may be apocryphal, their impact is unequivocal. By the twentieth century baseball had become an integral part of Americana. Baseball metaphors pervade our speech today and a simple game of catch between father and son still represents the quintessential moment of familial bonding.
A century later, however, baseball is no longer America’s pastime, as reflected by a significant drop in ratings. And despite several attempts at rule changes – including larger bases introduced during Spring Training - to lure fans back, it is clear that baseball has lost its luster.
Football is our new pastime. In addition to incredible ratings and the popularity of Madden video games, perhaps the greatest indicator of the NFL’s dominance in American culture is the Super Bowl. At a time when content has become “tribal,” Super Bowl Sunday has almost reached civic holiday status. The game itself is the most watched TV program during the year.
To evaluate whether this change of pastimes sends any deeper messages about our times, a look at both sports is warranted. During a baseball game teams try to score the most runs, but opposing sides occupy the same space, run the same basepath, and even agree on what constitutes the final destination, home plate. The fact that runs are scored at “home” speaks to the deeply personal connection fans feel towards their team. This may explain why some fans felt betrayed when the sport instead acts blatantly as a business, and when MLB franchises move, like when the Brooklyn Dodgers relocated in a heartbeat to Los Angeles.
In football, players compete on the same field, but to win they need to reach the other side. Endzones are different for each team and as literally far away as possible. Moreover, NFL players do everything in their power to prevent the competition from getting to the other side. While baseball is played without a clock, our new pastime is intensified by its fixed timeframe, thereby making clock management a valued skill by coaches and players alike.
One can argue that the shift from baseball to football sheds light on something more important than our pastime preferences, namely how contemporary society approaches competition itself. Neither competition nor football is inherently negative. Regarding the former, Robert Kennedy once said that "the lessons of competition are lessons for life." Competition pushes us to learn to reach our potential and provides us with the opportunity to discover how to win with grace and lose with dignity. And team experiences provide players, especially students, with the chance to achieve excellence in a particular area.
But what happens when our only interaction with “the other” is through competition? Do we have a shared sense of home, or do we solely focus on tackling and sacking the opposition?
A recent incident in Miami illustrates the challenges associated with this no-holds-barred approach to competition. Instead of shaking hands at the end of their championship game, the students from Scheck Hillel Community School and Archbishop Carroll Coleman High School began to brawl. According to news reports, this incident began with Antisemitic and hated-filled curses.
This melee in Miami generated news headlines because this behavior goes against our shared aspirations of sportsmanship, and even worse, signifies a symptom of a growing national problem. In our nation of immigrants, distrust of the other frequently frames our interactions in our country. While team sports are supposed to build character and community, there are similar stories of verbal taunts and some punches thrown at schools from Los Angeles, California, to Franklin, Massachusetts.
With so much of our attention focused on what is being taught in the classroom, it behooves us to notice what is going on outside. How often do children get together with those who are different from themselves? Where do students engage with new peers?
Students are most likely to meet peers different from themselves on a sports field, in a debate tournament, at Model UN and a Science Fair. All of these activities contribute greatly to our children’s development, and yet, the one common thread is competition.
When one doesn’t know the people on the other side of the field whether it be in Miami or Anytown USA, it is unfortunately too easy to classify an opponent myopically as merely a member of another religion, race, ethnicity, gender, socioeconomic background, etc. The problem is that when we only meet others to compete, our pastimes can become clash times.
I recently started working for Civic Spirit, an organization that provides training in civic education to faith based schools. In addition to professional development and leadership training, we create opportunities for Jewish, Catholic, Christian, and Muslim teachers and students to meet and work together. While dialogue across differences is an important first step, real change takes place when we collaborate in an ongoing manner.
What amazes me most about the field of civic education is the amount of collaboration taking place. This year’s Civic Learning Week consisted of offerings from an array of organizations with diverse missions and overlapping goals. The spirit of the week is that all of us are needed to enhance civic education, despite differences in approach and overlapping needs.
Thinking about the clash between the students in Miami, I am reminded of the words of Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks: “We encounter God in the face of a stranger. That, I believe, is the Hebrew Bible’s single greatest and most counterintuitive contribution to ethics. God creates difference; therefore it is in one-who-is-different that we meet God.” This sensibility is not intended to reduce our competitive spirit; rather foster generosity of spirit towards those on the other side of the field.
While our pastimes change over time, our commitment to community and country must be given every chance to stand the test of time. When we give the next generation the opportunity to work together rather than against one another, we all win the day.




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.