By now, much has been made of CBS’s decision to air an ad paid for by pro-life group Focus on the Family during the Super Bowl. The ad, which includes standout Florida quarterback Tim Tebow, has raised questions of the role political and advocacy advertising should play in sports, particularly in a national spectacle such as the Super Bowl. I had refrained from weighing in on this issue until I actually got a chance to see the ad. While it certainly strikes a lighthearted tone and would probably have left most viewers questioning what it was supposed to represent were it not for the wave of publicity surrounding its airing—in other words, it could have been a lot worse—the fact remains that such advocacy ads have no place in sports.

For those who aren’t familiar with the story, Tebow’s mother suffered a life-threatening infection while pregnant, but ignored the advice of doctors to abort the baby. Twenty-two years later, Tebow is a two-time national champion, three-time All-American, and Heisman Trophy winner. And in the eyes of Focus on the Family, this back-story made Tebow and his mother natural spokespersons for the anti-abortion cause. And what better medium to use to try to impose your views on the rest of the U.S. than Super Bowl XLIV, which was watched by 153.4 million Americans and took the mantle of “most watched program in U.S. television history” from the series finale of “M*A*S*H?”

Sports are one of the few nonpartisan entities remaining in our society, and now CBS and Focus on the Family are trying to politicize even that. When I go to watch my beloved Caps take on the Flyers, I don’t know whether the people sitting next to me voted for Obama, McCain, Paul, or McKinney. I’m oblivious to their views on abortion, capital punishment, and Citizens United v. FEC. And do I care? Not one bit. There’s one thing that matters, and it’s that the Caps win and continue their season-long streak of dominance against their hated rival. I and the other 18,276 people may disagree on the meaning of the Second Amendment and whether the Democrats’ health care plan is worth passing, but we are united in our support of the men in red and our hatred of the other team occupying the visitors’ bench.

But the injection of politics threatens the ability of sports to bring us together like no other institution. During breaks in the action, I want to talk about whether the Saints should’ve kicked a field goal instead of going for it on 4th-and-goal, how gutsy the onside kick call was, and how long it will take Peyton Manning & Co. to answer the Saints’ latest score—not whether Roe v. Wade should be overturned. Is it too much to ask that I get a three-hour reprieve from being bombarded with images of some leather-lunged Southerner ranting about how the government better stay out of his Medicare?

The politicization of sports is not limited to one Super Bowl ad. When Cincinnati football coach Brian Kelly took the Notre Dame job, WORLD Magazine made sure we weren’t focusing on whether Notre Dame’s expectations are too high in light of the recruiting challenges the Fighting Irish face, but rather his pro-choice views, which led WORLD to declare that Notre Dame “set aside moral standards for the sake of athletic success.” Oh, the horror! Newsflash: Former Ravens coach Brian Billick voted for George Bush in 2004. Brian Billick also won a Super Bowl in 2001 before showing his true colors in the following seasons and mercifully being canned following the 2007 season. What do you think should be given more weight when evaluating his tenure in Baltimore?

At this point, it’s worth examining another American tradition: The president throwing out the first pitch at an Opening Day baseball game. Certainly, some people might argue that this falls under the banner of “politicizing sports.” While I can understand the argument, watching the president throw out the first pitch and having a religious organization’s pro-life views forced upon you are two entirely different things. When the higher-ups at Major League Baseball selected Obama to throw out the first pitch at the All-Star Game in St. Louis last summer, they weren’t trying to convince everyone in the stands to support Obama’s health-care plan or to support the confirmation of Sonia Sotomayor. When the Nationals selected George W. Bush to throw out the first pitch at Nationals Park on its opening night, the team wasn’t trying to convince its fans that the surge did in fact work. They simply wanted the most powerful person in the world to partake in a storied tradition.

I don’t want to see an ad telling me to support health care reform at halftime of the Magic-Celtics game. I don’t want to hear about Chris Dodd’s shortcomings while watching the Caps demolish an opponent for the 14th straight game. I want to see the game, which is the reason I turned on ESPN in the first place. Is that really so much to ask?