Tuesday, June 21, 2005
A Question of Sport
A few weeks ago, there was a fairly lengthy discussion on ZS comparing the merits of various sports. As usual, the Economist got there first. First, it demolishes the protests of those lobbying in favour of gridiron and basketball:
Sport is about heroes and the attempt to emulate them, and so these protests camouflage a sadness, namely that there is no point in the average-sized person even dreaming of success on a basketball court or an American football field. By contrast, most normal-sized people can spend their childhoods nursing dreams of hitting a home run or scoring a goal worthy of Pele—hence our assertion that, in this democratic age, the best sports are those where freakish size or shape are not prerequisites for success.
Athletics (including track and field, swimming, gymnastics and so on) misses out because:
... there is one item that it crucially lacks: a ball ... Surely the most complete sportsman is the one whose movements—both of limb and of eye—are the most finely co-ordinated, and surely the best test of co-ordination is the ability to hit a moving ball.
By the same token, golf and snooker, though they may be fine tests of temperament, do not quite make it, involving as they do mere stationary objects to be hit or nudged.
How about the "beautiful game", soccer?
Soccer is an obvious candidate, with the demands that it makes on ball-skills, tactics, speed and endurance. So, too, baseball, field hockey and racket sports such as tennis, squash and badminton. But none of these sports is quite right. For all that they can be played by men and women of average shape and size, they do not demand the element of physical courage which in rugby—or for that matter American football—can compensate for a lack of inches.
So does rugby meet our definition of sporting perfection? Traditionally, it has catered for all shapes and sizes—big prop forwards, small and wiry scrum-halves, tall and elegant wing three-quarters. The trouble is that the tradition is under threat, not so much from giants such as Jonah Lomu as from an evolution of the rules that has made the sport as fast and furious as its cousin, rugby league. The result is that while heights may still vary, the weight and speed of the players is converging.
What does that leave? Hmm, it's funny you should ask.
Only one sport confirms the truth of our heresy while still testing the athlete to the limits of both physique and personality. The game is cricket, played to the highest level (and into middle age) by all shapes and sizes, and from Sri Lanka and South Africa, to England and Australia—indeed, almost anywhere that was once part of Britain’s long-lost empire. The ball is hard and comes off the pitch at speeds and angles determined by the skill of the bowler and the state of the turf. When the bowler is someone like Pakistan’s Shoaib Akhtar, the ball is also coming to the batsman at almost 100mph (161kph). In other words, batsmen like Sachin Tendulkar have to react in a split second—and have to have the courage not simply to duck out of harm’s way. Moreover, they may need to defy the bowlers for a day or more with only brief respite for meals and drinks.
But Mr Akhtar is no giant, nor is England’s Darren Gough. Like the best batsmen, the best fast-bowlers are as much the product of technique as of physique. And yet it is not only fast-bowlers who win matches by swinging the ball through the air or angling it off its seam; there are also slow-bowlers, spinning the ball this way and that or deceiving the batsman with flight.
So we will choose cricket as our paramount sport. Our only regret is that when America won its war of independence, it foolishly discarded its right to play a sport of such skill and temperament. Baseball is indeed a great sport, but by comparison with cricket it is, well, simple stuff.
Hear, hear!
PS: Some of you may already have noticed the striking coincidence that Economist's criteria lead inevitably to the two sports most closely associated with an upper-class English upbringing. Fortunately, we at ZS are not cynical enough to entertain the unworthy notion that such an outcome was in any way planned or pre-determined. Your mileage may vary.
Sport is about heroes and the attempt to emulate them, and so these protests camouflage a sadness, namely that there is no point in the average-sized person even dreaming of success on a basketball court or an American football field. By contrast, most normal-sized people can spend their childhoods nursing dreams of hitting a home run or scoring a goal worthy of Pele—hence our assertion that, in this democratic age, the best sports are those where freakish size or shape are not prerequisites for success.
Athletics (including track and field, swimming, gymnastics and so on) misses out because:
... there is one item that it crucially lacks: a ball ... Surely the most complete sportsman is the one whose movements—both of limb and of eye—are the most finely co-ordinated, and surely the best test of co-ordination is the ability to hit a moving ball.
By the same token, golf and snooker, though they may be fine tests of temperament, do not quite make it, involving as they do mere stationary objects to be hit or nudged.
How about the "beautiful game", soccer?
Soccer is an obvious candidate, with the demands that it makes on ball-skills, tactics, speed and endurance. So, too, baseball, field hockey and racket sports such as tennis, squash and badminton. But none of these sports is quite right. For all that they can be played by men and women of average shape and size, they do not demand the element of physical courage which in rugby—or for that matter American football—can compensate for a lack of inches.
So does rugby meet our definition of sporting perfection? Traditionally, it has catered for all shapes and sizes—big prop forwards, small and wiry scrum-halves, tall and elegant wing three-quarters. The trouble is that the tradition is under threat, not so much from giants such as Jonah Lomu as from an evolution of the rules that has made the sport as fast and furious as its cousin, rugby league. The result is that while heights may still vary, the weight and speed of the players is converging.
What does that leave? Hmm, it's funny you should ask.
Only one sport confirms the truth of our heresy while still testing the athlete to the limits of both physique and personality. The game is cricket, played to the highest level (and into middle age) by all shapes and sizes, and from Sri Lanka and South Africa, to England and Australia—indeed, almost anywhere that was once part of Britain’s long-lost empire. The ball is hard and comes off the pitch at speeds and angles determined by the skill of the bowler and the state of the turf. When the bowler is someone like Pakistan’s Shoaib Akhtar, the ball is also coming to the batsman at almost 100mph (161kph). In other words, batsmen like Sachin Tendulkar have to react in a split second—and have to have the courage not simply to duck out of harm’s way. Moreover, they may need to defy the bowlers for a day or more with only brief respite for meals and drinks.
But Mr Akhtar is no giant, nor is England’s Darren Gough. Like the best batsmen, the best fast-bowlers are as much the product of technique as of physique. And yet it is not only fast-bowlers who win matches by swinging the ball through the air or angling it off its seam; there are also slow-bowlers, spinning the ball this way and that or deceiving the batsman with flight.
So we will choose cricket as our paramount sport. Our only regret is that when America won its war of independence, it foolishly discarded its right to play a sport of such skill and temperament. Baseball is indeed a great sport, but by comparison with cricket it is, well, simple stuff.
Hear, hear!
PS: Some of you may already have noticed the striking coincidence that Economist's criteria lead inevitably to the two sports most closely associated with an upper-class English upbringing. Fortunately, we at ZS are not cynical enough to entertain the unworthy notion that such an outcome was in any way planned or pre-determined. Your mileage may vary.
