Weekend warriors
Escapism and professional sports
REGAN SARMATIUK
“In order to form a just estimation of the character of any particular people, it is absolutely necessary to investigate the sports and pastimes most generally prevalent among them.” –Joseph Strutt, from The Sports and Pastimes of the People of England, 1801
Last week marked NBC’s triumphant return to NFL broadcasting after a nine-year absence, and what a spectacle it was. No one does pomp and circumstance like the Americans do. Red, white and blue fireworks erupted from the rooftop of a Pittsburgh stadium housing 65, 000 fanatical football devotees, a school bus deposited the freshly-retired, glorious figure of Jerome Bettis on the field, and the shimmering stars and stripes were everywhere in abundance.
The crowning moment was a video montage featuring Pink, performing “live” from a virtual rooftop in Chicago with larger-than-life NFL players romping through the streets of the city, dwarfing the Sears Tower and the John Hancock Centre. All of this hoopla caused me to ponder again an issue that has always vexed me: why on earth are professional sports taken so seriously in North America, and why do spectators buy into the hype?
Sports surely comprise an aspect of culture that cannot be ignored, and since the early 1800s, academics have paid increasing attention to the various social and cultural issues surrounding sport. Some have argued that sport has a democratizing effect, while others scoff at such notions, pointing to the existence of luxury suites and exorbitantly high ticket prices. On the international stage, sport has been inextricably linked with various political and social issues of the day: think Chariots of Fire and the Munich Massacre of the 1972 Olympics.
One thing is certain — sports fanaticism is not a phenomenon unique to the modern-day North American existence. In a 2000 Globe and Mail article, Stephen Brunt notes that the Greeks and North Americans alike idolize their sports heroes, the “embodiments of the limits of human potential,” regardless of the true substance of these stars. As the poet Euripides wrote: “Although there are myriad evils throughout Greece, there is nothing worse than the race of athletes. . . . We ought then to crown with garlands the wise and the good, and whatever temperate and upright man best leads the state.”
A cursory glance at attendance figures at major sporting events in the Western
world indicates that this Greek obsession is alive and well. According to
ESPN, paid attendance at NFL games averaged about 68,000 in 2005, while in
Europe and Australia, football games enjoyed average crowds of about 35, 000
per game. Then there are the television audiences. As NBC sports chairman
Dick Ebersol said after NBC regained the rights to broadcast NFL football
beginning in fall 2006: “A great deal with the NFL is the best deal you can
get in television.” Coincidentally, CBC’s Hockey Night in Canada draws the
highest
ratings of any Canadian programming.
Of course, everyone is eager to cash in on the hype. There is the crass commercialism — the Super Bowl commercials, the images of athletes peddling soft drinks, soup and shoes on behalf of any company that will pay them to do so. But beyond this, there is another product that is being pushed on the mindless masses at the stadiums in a two-for-one format: pre-packaged patriotism and a highly convenient distraction.
What does the national anthem have to do with spectator sports, which are entirely a form of entertainment? Why does the president of the United States throw out the first pitch, or toss the coin? And why is something as inane as a football game turned into an opportunity to honour military heroes? What would happen if the gathered throng forgot about the game for a moment and thought about the state of the nation? Probably not a desirable prospect for many a U.S. president.
So why do we, the masses, buy in? Brunt believes it is because “we desperately need something that the sports spectacle provides — a sense of community, a sense of shared purpose in a world where other communal institutions have broken down.” This, argues Brunt, is the reason why sports fans “suspend disbelief” about issues such as doping scandals and labour disputes long enough to come together in some sort of emotional orgy. True, yet it goes even further than that.
In every human soul lies a desire for significance, challenge and adventure. In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, it is called the need for “status,” “esteem” or eventually, “self-actualization.” Call it what you will, but one thing is certain: human beings have a need to do battle and to overcome — anything less than that would equal boredom, a painful human experience.
So, when the multitudes flock to the arena on a weekly basis, they are attempting to live vicariously through the “warriors” on the field who are “mucking it out in the trenches” in the hopes of walking away with the victory. Think of it as a Clive Cussler novel with real, live action figures. Why else would Darryl Sutter say that “it’s about warriors” come playoff time? Why do announcers speak of “drawing first blood,” “defensive battles” and “clashes of the Titans?” Why the men in suits talking strategy and the blurred line between the playing field and the imaginary battlefield?
Just as there is nothing wrong with money, there is nothing wrong with sport — it is the obsession with money that can lead to trouble, and likewise, the obsession with sport. Professional athletes are a delight to watch, and marveling at the compelling strength, speed and grace with which they perform is an entirely natural response to a remarkable display of skill. But it is another thing entirely to worship the weekend warrior.
Regan Sarmatiuk is a former Editor-in-Chief.
