We watch sports because it fulfills a need within us.
And the reasons we watch sports are complicated, but it boils down, often, to narrative.
When we see people struggle and strive and improve, it speaks to something within us and tells us we should strive too; when we see that struggle lead to success, we leap to our feet and cheer, because, surely, if he can do that, then surely I can do this.
This is why it hurts so much to see our heroes fail, and why it hurts so much more if and when we find out that their success was not all through striving.
Because if their success could not be achieved legitimately, if their success could not be achieved without deceit and deception and unfair advantage, then their stories cease to be stories that speak to us.
If we believe that we can do this because they could do that, then what does it mean for us when we find out that they could not, in fact, do that?
We watch sports for narratives, and we love narratives that are not about skill, but are about will. Because skill cannot be taught; it can only be learnt, and the way to that skill is pain and experience and determination– in short, pitting your will against the universe. That is democratic; we believe, rightly or wrongly, that our will is our own.
So it is important to us that success comes from will– the application of that will against the odds, because we believe that as far as will is concerned, we are all equal.
And so we hate the idea that this thing, which we believe was achieved by the funnelling of will through too-too-solid flesh, was instead bought by a pill or came from a bottle.
That’s why sports is not about achievement. We win through speed, strength, accuracy, power.
All things that could be achieved in greater quantity with less effort via machines, and so we reduce the use of machines until it becomes, we believe, the contest of will against will– the one things that machines lack and we possess.
But that only applies if the contest is equal in all other ways.
We can appreciate a taekwando fighter in contest with another human. Putting him up against an M1 Abrams seems a bit unfair. And if the effect of chemical and genetic enhancement leads to a barrier equally unsurpassable, then the whole edifice of sports comes crashing down.
~~Me, on Facebook today.
Addendum:
CYN: If that’s so, isn’t DOTA like a sport?
Me: Exactly. That’s why they ban macros.
Me: It would be funny, though, if they also banned caffeine.
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