Trace the history of many politicians, and you’ll often find a formative athletic experience in their background. Former representative Jack Kemp and former senator Bill Bradley both were professional athletes whose time in sports cultivated a spirit for public service. Many of our nation’s presidents played sports in college. Sports can cultivate teamwork, discipline, and a stubborn disposition toward achieving goals—qualities that good politics require.
Benjamin Watson, an NFL football player turned justice advocate, sat down with Geoff Duncan, former Georgia lieutenant governor and former MLB player, to talk about this connection between sports and political service. Before serving as lieutenant governor, Duncan was a 69th-round draft pick from Georgia Tech for the Florida Marlins, where he played for six seasons. A lifelong Republican, Duncan announced last month that he will run for Georgia governor as a Democrat. Together, Watson and Duncan explore what it means to practice the just life and how character shapes decision-making, regardless of what team—athletic or political—you’re on.
Here are edited excerpts of their conversation in episode 11. Watch the whole conversation here on The Just Life with Benjamin Watson, a podcast from CT Media.
Did you grow up in a family where faith was important, or did your faith come because of the tribulations and uncertainty of sports?
My family was very faith centered. We went to church every chance they opened the doors and served a meal. I graduated from high school and went off to college with my parents’ faith, not my own faith.
When I was drafted to the Marlins, it gave me a new lease on life to show up to work every day. Professional baseball has something called baseball chapel. Every Sunday, no matter what park you’re in, there’s a Sunday sermon given. Those chapels started to work on my heart, and my spiritual life became my journey instead of my parents’ journey. My wife and I got married and enjoyed life on the road. I learned so many life lessons playing baseball: how to control your emotions, how to be a good teammate, how to work hard, how to lean into a faith that was just starting to develop inside me.
After baseball ended, my wife and I started a business and began raising kids. Life was good. A good friend from baseball at Georgia Tech invited us to go to church with him one Sunday at Andy Stanley’s North Point [Community] Church. Stanley preached a perfectly sensible argument for why Jesus is the greatest person to follow, and I thought, This feels right. After that, our faith started to really be a catalyst. We got into a couples’ small group, and I started to unpack what Andy says so well: “What does love require of me?”
Some days, love requires me to walk upstairs and tell my kids I’m sorry because I overreacted. Some days, love requires me to have a tough conversation with somebody in the business world. Some days, love requires me to take a political stance that doesn’t jive with whatever party labels are next to my name. That’s really where it all started to develop for me.
In 2021, you published a book titled GOP 2.0 where you say that your party moved away from conservative values. You served in the Georgia State Legislature as lieutenant governor. What are those values you feel Republicans have lost?
I was elected in a very Republican district as a state representative. When I took office, I realized that there were strings attached and this game to reach for more power and control. I soured to that early on in the process as a state representative and decided I was going to put policy over politics.
I felt like there was a more genuine way to do the process, focused on policy, empathy, and tone. I wanted to get back to this world where if you and I disagreed on a policy and we put it out on the table, we’d probably both agree on 80 percent of that issue, no matter how toxic the issue might be. That 20 percent where we disagreed? We could work together or make concessions. Can I truly be mature enough to understand your point of view? I think that softens the edges.
As far as tone, for some reason, we’ve given ourselves this hall pass in the world of politics. We can be as visceral as we want to be when we wouldn’t talk like that at work. We certainly don’t do it at home. Simply put, it’s more important to Americans to win an election or to be on the winning team than to have the policy. Everything is about an election cycle.
For me, this has been a journey. As time went on, I felt like I was less of a Republican and more of an honest umpire. That was the closest alignment to the mission that I felt most comfortable executing every day. I just didn’t feel comfortable going to work and only saying 60 or 70 percent of what I felt the truth to be.
How do you encourage people to come together to find solutions when everything else on the outside is telling us to stay apart?
One of the best ways to make an instant mark on somebody is to react differently than what they expect. In sports, when somebody gets up in your face and they’re expecting the same, you instead say, “All right, man. Thanks for the feedback.” It makes an impression on them. In political discussions or discourse, I ask, “What are your thoughts on this? I know we disagree on it, but how could you make this piece of legislation better?”
I got to watch that strategy play out firsthand as lieutenant governor. I realized that when we passed legislation that was voted on only by Republicans, it was a low-quality, short-term solution. When we got bipartisan support for something, it was really wholesome stuff that you were proud of and that you knew would stand the test of time. I started taking meetings in the Democratic caucus, including groups that didn’t expect it in the discussion.
That kind of thing helps take us in a healthy direction, but you have to be intentional. There’s no political reward for that. It’s the long game. It’s like, “Do you want to make it to the Hall of Fame, or do you just want to make one All-Star game?” I watched Ronald Reagan with Tip O’Neill, the speaker of the house, do this. There was no political rationale to it, but I saw the productive nature of that strategy.
How have you not become disillusioned? What keeps you going?
Deep in my bones, I feel like this is the journey God wants me to be on. Just call balls and strikes and be as honest of a leader as I can possibly be. Whether that becomes an elected office again or not, who knows? I wake up energized, ready to hit the floor running. I would rather have a life of purpose than sit in the front row at some banquet every night and give a two-minute speech just to say I’m in elected office.
In 2020, I had soured toward Donald Trump. My wife and I were riding in a limo with the president and Melania. They were running me back and forth to the White House. I just didn’t like what I saw. Sitting around my kitchen table, I watched the president tweet at me. I’m getting death threats, and I’ve got three sons looking at me going, I wonder what Dad’s going to do. Is he going to do and say the right thing no matter who’s against him? I was not going to buckle in that moment.
For me, a just life means I’m loving my neighbor. If I’m doing that, a lot of things are going to be all right. My heart’s right. My faith’s right. My family’s right. It takes more than just walking across the street to love your neighbor. You have to be in the right frame of mind. What we’re doing needs to be centered around love.
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