Rivals are not enemies. They compete against each other. They compete to test and whet their strength, skill, and speed, whether the contest is physical or mental, toward an endeavor to do better.
So, the ancient Greeks instituted athletic competitions as games at Olympia in 776 BCE. From the beginning contests took two distinct forms. There was one in which the contestants moved or stood facing the same direction, as in footrace, long jump, and discus and javelin throwing, and there was another in which they charge face to face and dash in opposite directions to crash into each other, as in boxing and wrestling, and, later in history, jousting. In the latter form, rivals were therefore opponents, and as opponents they could easily get combative; boxing, in fact, could get brutal, and a boxing match is still called a fight. There is no doubt that athletic exercises had their practical merit as a training for real life combat. But games were games. Wrestling and hand-to-hand combat, though similar in form, differ importantly in their objective; wrestlers test their might and endurance but combatants fight to harm each other, and kill, if necessary, not only in defense but for victory. A Greek boxer, if killed by his opponent, was automatically the victor. Rivals were not to be mistaken for enemies. The duel, incidentally, is a ritual which turns rivals into enemies by mutual agreement.
In team sports, the sense of opposition is magnified by the fact that the players are not competing as individuals but as members of a concerted group even though it may be one single player who dashes forward to put a ball into the goal or a basket, or hit it as far afield as possible. Participants and spectators alike know, of course, that opposing teams are playing a game, not fighting a battle. Parents tell their children trudging out of a defeated team that it’s only a game, and winning is not everything. But attending a game, in their overflowing enthusiasm, they often get much more serious themselves, cheering and jeering, stomping and raising their fists, quite contrary to their admonishing words. Tennis players, after an intense game, shake each other’s hands demonstrably that they are still amicable, even if only out of politeness. Rivals are not enemies even after shouting curses and breaking a racket.
Enthusiastic fans, in support of the team they side with, at times go wild and even abusive, even though, as spectators, they are not even struggling under pressure to win, like the players. They express winning, then, more in terms of the defeat of the opponent team; words like destroy, demolish, and decimate are freely thrown about, and the fans of one team insult those of the opponent team and sometimes get violent. Rough language may be metaphorical; but anger is an outburst of hostility.
In those games in which the contestants face the same direction, they are less likely to develop enmity. To take a stance of attack, one needs an adversary. In some athletic activities, participants work in isolation, as in the legendary long-distance runner. In an artistic and intellectual endeavor, for a contest or otherwise, one struggles to do better by competing with oneself. and so, too, in some athletic activities, like gymnastics, swimming, and high jump. The player challenges her or his own past achievements, not so much those of a rival.
So, perhaps it makes sense that violence is more evident in spectator sports than in solitary exercises. A football field simulates a battlefield. Opposing teams are seen as troupes charging on to attack their enemies.
Politicians who speak of politics in analogy with athletic games may be motivated by the idea sportsmanship, such as fairness, decency, and integrity. May the best man (or woman) win, they say. Yet, it is not uncommon nowadays for rival candidates in a political campaign to attack one another more as mortal enemies than righteous rivals. They challenge the opponents with vicious words and a battle cry to slaughter them. Then, wittingly or unwittingly, they make politics a battlefield that it should not be. This is a sad affair.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment