If you don't know the name of Travis Pastrana then consider yourself not a seeker of thrills, but of the bland. For Travis Pastrana, at the very least, is a legend in this household, even if my wife has no idea who he is or what he's done. And mentioning Mr. Pastrana here is not to single him out as if there are no other legends; Kevin Robinson is a legend, as is Danny Way.
OK. If you didn't catch any of this past weekend's X Games/12 events I will not tar you as either a fool or a seeker of basic blandness. Trust me when I admit that watching most of the events requires an Rx for Valium; it's TV watching with clammy palms and one eye closed. But the one open eye surely enjoyed spectacular athleticism: Pastrana landing the first ever double-backflip on a motorcross (MX) bike for a gold medal, then winning gold in the MX freestyle and the Rally Car events (too cool); Kevin Robinson winning the Vert (vertical) Best Trick on a bicycle (a crazy double flip with a corkscrew called a double flare); or Danny Way clearing a 70-foot gap on a skateboard -- backflipping -- during the skateboard Big Air contest, only then to shoot up a vert ramp (about 25-feet deep) and launching 22-feet into the air to a perfect gold-medal landing.
Call me silly, but I love this stuff.
What moves me when I watch these events is how fellow competitors celebrate the accomplishments of their peers. For example, when Kevin Robinson completed the first ever double flare in the BMX competition -- a trick he had never successfully landed (even in practice) in THREE years of trying -- his fellow competitors swooped down and piled on him as if they were all victors in a World Cup final. That the young star then leapt to his feet, grabbed photos of his little children and held them up to the camera, shouting, "This is why I do this, for my wife and my babies!" shattered all my preconceptions about the extremities of the X Games: the games are decent to the core.
Just for a moment imagine that a slugger for the Philadelphia Phillies has just hit a walk-off home-run -- wait, scratch that as preposterous. Imagine instead the Boston Red Sox legend David Ortiz hitting a game-winning home-run against the New York Yankees and the Yankees rushing over to celebrate his achievement. It is hard to imagine such a thing because team sports do not permit this sort of affection (though I will say that the college-level sports I have photographed show a distinct difference between the way women react to losing and the way men react: women are much more gracious). But team sports and their fans rarely permit athletes to publicly and duly cheer their opponents' accomplishments (at least in the moment).
But what I saw at the X Games was almost biblical: I saw weeping with those who weep and rejoicing with those who rejoice. It was refreshing.
In most instances, I prefer individual over team sports. Obviously the attraction of individual sports is that one's greatest opponent is oneself: you compete against your fears, your lack of concentration, your envy, your lack of discipline -- and the very physics of the cosmos. Of course, team players also must play against themselves; but it is rare to hear any coach say to a team that one person lost a tournament for them (unless the loss is the result of that "!*@!!?! referee"). "We all lost this one," is more often heard than not in a team's locker room or during a sideline interview. But Tiger Woods has only himself to blame for losing, as does Bode Miller or Venus Williams. In individual sports the winner wins, and loses, on his or her own.
But of all the major team sports the world plays (or is beginning to play) -- baseball, football (American), soccer (or European football), basketball, ice hockey, lacrosse and perhaps even rugby -- baseball is unique. It is the only major team sport in which it is impossible to be a ball hog (or puck hog). There are no players shouting "Just give me the damn ball!" or some such conceit, as is too often heard from basketball or football players. Baseball does not lend itself to that sort of presumption; it is truly about the team.
Perhaps that is why Americans love baseball, for its elegance and its equality. Perhaps politically it is the most American of all team games; like America's form of governance where there is no king but a Chief Executive who presides, there is in baseball but a simple manager (not even a coach) presiding over a bunch of players given special tasks.
Of course, all this leads to the most important point of this entirely meaningless essay: baseball is the only team sport in which the leader of the team, the manager, is in uniform. I have often had a fancy that I would mandate all coaches and managers arrive on the pitch, field or court "ready to play." Surely New England Patriots coach Bill Belichick should be expected to wear a jersey, pads and helmet while pacing the sidelines; as it would befit L.A. Lakers coach Phil Jackson to arrive in tank-top and shorts and Philadelphia Flyers coach Ken Hitchcock dressed to leap the wall with the third line. Wouldn't it be great to watch Bill Parcells slam helmets with Andy Reid during the coin toss?
But back to individual sports (where you can pretty much wear whatever uniform you want). Such games as the X Games are clearly also essentially American (at least), where the individual is celebrated above the collective. Politically speaking such games are even rather Libertarian, with the individual struggling without fetters to live a life full of free expression and exploration. Perhaps Danny Way's colossal skateboard leap last year over the Great Wall of China -- the first person to do so on a self-propelled vehicle -- was not just a mere stunt but an act of radical foreign policy: an individual soaring over a grand symbol in a communist country committed to the whole rather to any single part. Perhaps it is not the World Cup or the World Series or the Super Bowl that will unite the worlds. Perhaps the ambassadors of freedom are those extremists back-flipping on bicycles, ripping snowboards down subway handrails, rolling wheels up the sides of statues of Chairman Mao, grinding through Red Square, or doing backside 360s over the Washington Mall. You know, the radicals like Travis Pastrana who, after sticking the world's first double back-flip on a motorcycle, ran up to his (stressed out) mother and threw his arms around her, saying, "I'm sorry, mom, I'm sorry!"
For me it is all rather humbling, watching the dreams of the young change how I see.
Have a lovely day.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2006/Contratimes -- All Rights Reserved.
Technorati tags: X Games, Travis Pastrana, Danny Way, Kevin Robinson, skateboarding, Big Air, Baseball, Bill Belichick
5 comments:
Bill--
What a wonderful article.
The X games have been on TV at work, and I've been catching a few grand moments here and there, enjoying the stunts.
I'm a big baseball fan, and when I was growing up, collecting baseball cards and grabbing the morning's paper to look at the scores, I always rooted for the teams with my favorite individual players; I rooted for the San Diego Padres for years because they had Tony Gwynn, for the Red Sox because they have Wade Boggs (Boggs was almost superhuman in those days), for the Twins because they had Kirby Puckett, for the Cards because they had Ozzie Smith. Later, I rooted for the Mariners because they had Edgar Martinez, Ken Griffey Jr. and Randy Johnson (my favorite pitcher of all time, by the way; and at 6'10 the tallest man ever to play baseball). When Johnson was traded to the Diamonbacks and paired with Curt Schilling, another favorite pitcher, I rooted for them. When Johnson pitches with the Yankees, I root for the hated Yankees!
These days, I'm rooting for the Mariners again, because they count Ichiro Suzuki among their players. Suzuki is the most elgant and exciting contact hitter in baseball right now, in my opinion; his ability to wait until the last possible second to swing, and even to deliberately foul off strikes that he doesn't like, reminds me in some ways of Boggs in his prime. I remember when Boggs was traded to the Yankees and I stopped rooting for the Red Sox, much to the dismay of my buddies. They had thought that I was concerned with locality, but even at that tender age I was more enthralled by individual accomplishments than anything else.
I suppose I've revealed a bias in favor of contact hitters (though I was thrilled by Cecil Fielder when he became the first guy in 15 years to hit 50 homers, in 1990; 50 home runs is so common now that it's no longer a magic number). In this day and age, the contact hitter is even more thrilling: among all the steroid-fueled headline-grabbing sluggers that surround him, he reminds us of quiet, dependable excellence.
Baseball is deeply poetic in the way it expresses both team and individual; the players have more space between them than football players; they make physical contact with each other far less than hockey or even soccer players, yet they are team players. The geometry of baseball expresses both loneliness and individuality, and the ability to strive with others; perhaps that balance is part of what makes it uniquely american.
It's funny, most of my closest friends are people who I've bonded with over poetry or music or philosophy, but few of them enjoy sports as much as I do. Of course, many of them never played sports, as I did; in fact, I was a leading goal-scorer in soccer until I got to high-school and my grades fell apart (I was also unable to get along with most of the jocks, who disliked me intensely; perhaps they sensed my preference for individual accomplishments?--who knows?), eliminating me from the team. What I think some of my artistic friends miss about sports is how boring life would be without physical contests. Sports, at its best, is a serious form of play, and as such it has a purity, even an artistry, about it. It reminds us that play is important. I think more art should do the same; EE Cummings certainly makes me want to play.
Luke
PS--Come to think of it, at least one of my friends enjoys sports as much as art, and he's written a beautiful poem about Ichiro Suzuki that will be featured in the next issue of my magazine. Maybe I should write a poem about my childhood adulation of Wade Boggs. He was my first hero; appropriately, a weird hero with a weird name, who had to eat fried chicken at exactly the same amount of time before each game in order to feel properly focused.
I've never payed much attention to the X-Games until I saw the Rally Car competition last Saturday.
Oh my. Did you see that last guy flip the car, but come up gunning the gas and still almost win the thing? He was clearly pleased with himself (as were the crowd and winner Pastrana) even though he finished second. Instant immortality.
We were eating lunch in a restaurant Sunday and the entire crowd let out a gasp, then a cheer as Pastrana landed the double back-flip. I had no idea how many people followed this stuff, but my sons know everyone involved, how old they are, and usually how much they made last year.
I do show up "dressed to play" when I coach my U19 soccer squad. But (ahem) modesty prevents my taking the pitch and embarrasing the lads in front of their girlfriends.
Beautiful. Indeed, you have captured the essence of this grand game of baseball. Where else can one debate the merits of the BLIBB (Bases Loaded Intentional Base on Balls) in 1998 when Buck Showalter, then manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks, intentionally walked Barry Bonds with the bases loaded?
The game lends itself to powerful spiritual moments.
Mike and Andy,
Thanks for the comments.
MTEG: Yes, I did see the guy flip and it was impressive, full throttle and all. Cool.
Andy: You are right to see more than meets the eye sparkling out on that diamond. Your story of walking Barry Bonds reminds me of Bill Belichick telling his punting squad, pinned near their end zone, to intentionally take a safety. That way they'd lose two points but get to kick off from near midfield. Of course, they then pinned their opponents against their own goal line, got the ball back with better field position, and scored a winning touchdown. (Anyone who can recall the team the Patriots beat that Monday night would do this discussion a kind service by letting us know.)
Peace.
BG
Baseball is also a sport where if a player is about to break or record or a pitcher is pitching a no-hitter or perfect game where the opposing fans cheer. I've seen this in soccer and hockey but in baseball it's a natural protocol. An unwritten, elegant law among fans. This may be slightly off your point - which I agree with by the way - but another aspect of the team culture I dislike is among the fans and media. Specifically, the 'win at all cost' or 'nobody remembers the loser.' Not to mention that somehow an athlete who does not win a championship is somehow less valuable in a team game. Think Dan Marino and others. How is that possible? "He never won!" these minions chirp. Who cares? He still was a great athlete. The real creative nitpickers take a step further when comparing athletes who 'won.' "Yeah but he won 4 whereas the other guy won 3." Dumb. By that's me.
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