While researching a post on the aesthetics of baseball, I began to realize that a lot of assumptions were being used that might require some background work. Therefore, this is Part 1 of what is probably a series about this important segment of everyday aesthetics.
Here are some assumptions to address that make the connection of sports to the arts, which is the point of this post, arguable:
1. The goal of sport is not beauty, but winning.
I toured the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires recently, and I was lucky enough to be able to visit the grand theater during a rehearsal of the La Bayadera ballet. Like any rehearsal, including a pre-game warm up for a baseball game, the activity was fascinating, but disjointed and fragmented. Difficult movements practiced, but out of context. The flow of action interrupted for coaching or a performer’s decision to correct a mistake. Yet the skill was impressive, and the marvel of watching talented people practicing was rewarding, if not beautiful, in itself. I was compelled to purchase a ticket to the ballet, one of the few remaining, and I saw the actual performance one week later. I can report that the experience was deepened by having seen the rehearsal.
Winning in the arts has to do with selling out performances or other products. But the artists cannot focus on that--they are working to master their craft, landing that ballet leap, hitting that note, nailing the dialogue with the right emotional pitch. After all, these are the things that sell. The same is true for sports to various degrees. In gymnastics, form is already accounted for in the point system, but it is also an obvious intent whose outcome is appreciated more than points by spectators. In other sports, catching the ball is more important than HOW you catch the ball. Nevertheless, for the spectators, HOW can be what makes a game magical. Consider the drama of a successful or failed strategic coaching decision, like positioning players on the field, choosing which play pattern to execute, or changing one player for another, as well as skilled player maneuvers like runs, catches, and kicks--can such well--crafted execution make up for a losing game? Sometimes, almost, and enough to keep fans coming back to watch. But what is certain is that without this beauty, one might as well read the newspaper report of the game.
Beauty in sports is also manifested in the pageantry of a game, but more intrinsic is the well implemented movement or strategy, not to mention the cumulative sublimity of watching a team or athlete performing at the top of their form over a critical series of contests. No matter the outcome, these elements make a significant contribution to the aesthetic experience of a sport.
2. The outcome of sport is unpredictable, unlike most art forms, which are scripted or crafted.
A sport, by nature, is unpredictable. While some athletes seem unstoppable, the rules of a sport are in place to balance the odds. The dimensions of the playing field, restrictions on movements, time limits, time-outs, predictable limits to physical endurance, rapid pacing that necessitates quick decisions, the size and composition of equipment--all these place constraints and even the odds. Fans are sometimes upset when rules are changed, at times to enhance excitement or bring it under control (like more or less baseball hits). But the rules, for better or worse, are what make the sport function.
This unpredictability within constraints is built in, and is what gives sports its drama. Time limits, or numbers of rounds or attempts, in particular, establish a beginning and end that builds tension in good contests. In most games, those that are not completely lopsided, as the end approaches the drama rises. The chance for clinching, the chance for a come-back, or the tragic failure to do these can be explosive for spectators, visibly and audibly affecting an entire stadium. In fact, sports are not without scripts--the rules themselves are a form of script, crafted constraints with sufficient open space to ensure drama.
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Unpredictability might seem counter to art, but particularly in late modern and contemporary art, unpredictability frequently has been built into the process and products. From the Happenings of the 1960’s, which were events triggered by the simplest of scripts (or perhaps “rules” is a better term) of just a few paragraphs or sentences (often ending with a statement that key decisions left up to participants), to the music of John Cage, the tape loops of Brian Eno, and improvisational jazz, randomness has been built into art as a natural quality of experience. In fact, in most performance art, unpredictability, including the potential for a grand or failed performance, has always been a factor and part of what continues to draw people to live performances when recordings could offer predictable quality instead.
3. Arts represent life, but sport is just for fun. Sport does not have a “plot.”
Arts can represent life with a high degree of verisimilitude. A novel or drama can explore complex situations with deep scrutiny of the thoughts and emotions of the characters depicted. Some even speculate that books, and more specifically, the growth of the modern novel as an art form, has led to new understandings of consciousness. An artful tragedy captures, through its playing out of falling pride and lost opportunity, the human condition of living in a difficult world with unfair human limitations. Basketball, on the other hand, amounts to “watching a bunch of pituitary cases stuff a ball through a hoop.”
Well, contrary to this connaisseur attitude, sports DO connect to the deeper experiences of life. And while the plot of a sport is not the same sort of narrative as a drama, it is dramatic. Francis Keenan saw that an athlete must show a “display of courage in the face of adversity (that) reflects something beautiful about man--the spirit with which he enters marvelous combat with an overwhelming and unpredictable world.” That describes both tragedy and sport, and suggests the lasting power of both. An athlete, as exceptional as he or she is, is reduced to being a common human facing the rules, constraints, and physical challenges of a sport. Again and again, the best of athletes fail, show their tragic flaw of hubris, and are brought down by the odds and either forced to leave the game or left in only to see it fall into a shamble of defeat around them. This can happen in the form of a traditional peripeteia or reversal, most dramatic in the last minutes of a game (or in a relentless second half, as we saw in the 2017 Super Bowl). This reversal can bring a form of catharsis, or emotional cleansing for spectators. Even in the individual sports, like track and field or gymnastics, distance or speed records are always eventually broken, and exceptional maneuvers are improved upon by the next generation, if not by the next olympic games.
The length of a game or athletic performance is established to be long enough to develop drama and to resemble the human predicament, but usually short enough to be appreciated by the average spectator. Exceptions exists, such as marathon races and cricket matches, but the same is true in the arts, and the current trend of serial TV dramas with endlessly developing plots is a perfect example. Even for the sporting events that average 2-3 hours, the drama also develops over games and seasons, or even over the career of a player. These begin to resemble not just episodes of life, but life.
4. While bodily skills are mastered by players of sports, higher mental skills like insight into life and appreciation of beauty, are secondary.
Arguments like this are hard to defend. The subtle and complex strategies of playing a sport, the “inner game,” the psychology of reading (and sometimes deceiving) the opponent, the physical beauty (elegance, precision, style, grace, rhythm) of the perfected skills exhibited, and the appreciation of these that both precede their perfection by the athlete and observation by the spectator--these are all quite enough to make the argument sound silly.
Add to this the strength of character required to be sportsmanlike under pressure and to appeal to a restless, demanding crowd and you can see the rather high level of social skill that is asked of athletes as well. However, the long effort required to achieve extreme mastery of skills and the desire to be ranked above others can lead to narcissism. This is dangerous, and is not tolerated for long by fans or teammates in team sports, nor by fans and the press in individual sports. Narcissism is more tolerated in the arts, and is even accepted as a stereotypical character trait, but it does not make it pretty. Some question whether the goal to win detracts from the potential beauty of a sport, but I suspect it only magnifies it. It no doubt creates pitfalls to navigate, which if done well, lead to an admirable grace, which is a form of beauty.
5. High levels of emotion are apparent in both, but emotions in sport are raw, not subtle or refined.
Emotions in sport can be raw. Hockey games have resembled battles at certain points. The physical exertion required of sports can naturally lead to physical expression of emotions. However, we shouldn’t forget that even greater violence in novels, drama and films are considered essential elements of masterworks. The emotions that can be shared during a sporting event are certainly not as raw and also no less refined than the ones felt by King Lear or Willy Loman.
Almost all of us enjoy physical struggle, and we are rewarded when we achieve mastery over our bodies by taking a longer walk or run than usual, staying up later than we normally can to complete an important task, and even more so by learning a new skill, like skiing or playing tennis. It might be difficult to decide to enter the struggle, but once engaged, we can be captured by it, addicted even.
Athletes are our role models in this way. They have mastered skills we cannot imagine ourselves achieving. Interestingly, spectators do more than watch, it has been shown that they actually can have an empathetic mirror experience, feeling what the athlete must feel as he leaps to catch a ball or is crushed beneath a pile of opponents. The squirming and jumping of spectators is evidence of this, although we have probably all felt it, if only the sympathetic pain we feel for a child who shows us her skinned knee.
But more than kinesthetic empathy, it is emotional empathy that pulls us into a game of sports. We share the frustration of the player that strikes out with the bases loaded, the joy of a pitcher who strikes out three batters in a row, the ecstasy of the runner who crosses the finish line victoriously. This vicarious participation can be overwhelming. Fans wear the jerseys worn by their favorite teams, argue with the umpires that make bad calls against their favorite players, and speak in the second person when they pronounce that “we” won or lost the game. In some sports, there are rituals that draw fans further into the game--the chance to catch the errant ball or puck, or even making the first ritual pitch.
6. Appreciation of sport requires no skill or discrimination. Nothing so popular, appreciated by almost anyone at whatever level of education or life experience, can be an art.
I once sat through a game of cricket during a visit to Barbados, lost in my attempt to understand the strategies being used by the teams -- the fielders shifting their positions over the large field as each new batsman took his position at the plate, and also before almost each pitch; the strange, immense circumferences made by the arms of the bowlers pitching toward the wicket. There were some obvious connections to the game of baseball, which I knew better, but it was still hard to fathom. A sport can be bewildering to the non-initiated. It is not only the complex rules, like those of baseball and cricket, that befuddle novice spectators, but also what it is that is supposed to constitute excitement and skill. If you don’t know the game, the crowd can be roaring while you sit chewing your popcorn. The pace of cricket matches (some forms lasting up to five days) is even slower than baseball, and it moves at a snail’s pace compared to the don’t-blink paces of basketball and hockey, let alone fencing. There are many scales and paces to aesthetic experiences.
Arts sometimes get a bad rap from their long association of being produced for wealthy or over-intellectual patrons, not for common persons. Critiques of the arts dive into philosophical topics that many would not see arising from the primitive or violent mash-up artworks in front of them. Art can be an insider thing, an “art world” to itself. But it is somewhat the same for sports. Only the well-initiated truly appreciate a sport, even it if might take a short time, in some cases, to become initiated.
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Ziff, Paul (1974) "A Fine Forehand," Philosophic Exchange: Vol. 5 : No. 1 , Article 11. Available at: http://digitalcommons.brockport.edu/phil_ex/vol5/iss1/11
Keenan, Francis (1972) "The Athletic Contest as a "Tragic" Form of Art," Philosophic Exchange: Vol. 3: No. 1, Article 14. Available at: http://digitalcommons.brockport.edu/phil_ex/vol3/iss1/14/
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| Photo by Keith Allison. Copyright Creative Commons |
- The goal of sport is not beauty, but winning.
- The outcome of sport is unpredictable, unlike most art forms, which are scripted or crafted.
- Arts represent life, but sport is just for fun. Sport does not have a “plot.”
- While bodily skills are mastered by players of sports, higher mental skills like insight into life and appreciation of beauty, are secondary.
- High levels of emotion are apparent in both, but emotions in sport are raw, not subtle or refined.
- Appreciation of sport requires no skill or discrimination. Nothing so popular, appreciated by almost anyone at whatever level of education or life experience, can be an art.
1. The goal of sport is not beauty, but winning.
I toured the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires recently, and I was lucky enough to be able to visit the grand theater during a rehearsal of the La Bayadera ballet. Like any rehearsal, including a pre-game warm up for a baseball game, the activity was fascinating, but disjointed and fragmented. Difficult movements practiced, but out of context. The flow of action interrupted for coaching or a performer’s decision to correct a mistake. Yet the skill was impressive, and the marvel of watching talented people practicing was rewarding, if not beautiful, in itself. I was compelled to purchase a ticket to the ballet, one of the few remaining, and I saw the actual performance one week later. I can report that the experience was deepened by having seen the rehearsal.
Winning in the arts has to do with selling out performances or other products. But the artists cannot focus on that--they are working to master their craft, landing that ballet leap, hitting that note, nailing the dialogue with the right emotional pitch. After all, these are the things that sell. The same is true for sports to various degrees. In gymnastics, form is already accounted for in the point system, but it is also an obvious intent whose outcome is appreciated more than points by spectators. In other sports, catching the ball is more important than HOW you catch the ball. Nevertheless, for the spectators, HOW can be what makes a game magical. Consider the drama of a successful or failed strategic coaching decision, like positioning players on the field, choosing which play pattern to execute, or changing one player for another, as well as skilled player maneuvers like runs, catches, and kicks--can such well--crafted execution make up for a losing game? Sometimes, almost, and enough to keep fans coming back to watch. But what is certain is that without this beauty, one might as well read the newspaper report of the game.
 |
| Photo by ken yee. Copyright Creative Commons |
2. The outcome of sport is unpredictable, unlike most art forms, which are scripted or crafted.
A sport, by nature, is unpredictable. While some athletes seem unstoppable, the rules of a sport are in place to balance the odds. The dimensions of the playing field, restrictions on movements, time limits, time-outs, predictable limits to physical endurance, rapid pacing that necessitates quick decisions, the size and composition of equipment--all these place constraints and even the odds. Fans are sometimes upset when rules are changed, at times to enhance excitement or bring it under control (like more or less baseball hits). But the rules, for better or worse, are what make the sport function.
This unpredictability within constraints is built in, and is what gives sports its drama. Time limits, or numbers of rounds or attempts, in particular, establish a beginning and end that builds tension in good contests. In most games, those that are not completely lopsided, as the end approaches the drama rises. The chance for clinching, the chance for a come-back, or the tragic failure to do these can be explosive for spectators, visibly and audibly affecting an entire stadium. In fact, sports are not without scripts--the rules themselves are a form of script, crafted constraints with sufficient open space to ensure drama.
 |
| Photo by PaulMLocke. Copyright Creative Commons |
3. Arts represent life, but sport is just for fun. Sport does not have a “plot.”
Arts can represent life with a high degree of verisimilitude. A novel or drama can explore complex situations with deep scrutiny of the thoughts and emotions of the characters depicted. Some even speculate that books, and more specifically, the growth of the modern novel as an art form, has led to new understandings of consciousness. An artful tragedy captures, through its playing out of falling pride and lost opportunity, the human condition of living in a difficult world with unfair human limitations. Basketball, on the other hand, amounts to “watching a bunch of pituitary cases stuff a ball through a hoop.”
 |
| Photo by Keith Allison. Copyrights Creative Commons |
The length of a game or athletic performance is established to be long enough to develop drama and to resemble the human predicament, but usually short enough to be appreciated by the average spectator. Exceptions exists, such as marathon races and cricket matches, but the same is true in the arts, and the current trend of serial TV dramas with endlessly developing plots is a perfect example. Even for the sporting events that average 2-3 hours, the drama also develops over games and seasons, or even over the career of a player. These begin to resemble not just episodes of life, but life.
4. While bodily skills are mastered by players of sports, higher mental skills like insight into life and appreciation of beauty, are secondary.
Arguments like this are hard to defend. The subtle and complex strategies of playing a sport, the “inner game,” the psychology of reading (and sometimes deceiving) the opponent, the physical beauty (elegance, precision, style, grace, rhythm) of the perfected skills exhibited, and the appreciation of these that both precede their perfection by the athlete and observation by the spectator--these are all quite enough to make the argument sound silly.
 |
| Photo by Maja Kuna-Parrish |
5. High levels of emotion are apparent in both, but emotions in sport are raw, not subtle or refined.
Emotions in sport can be raw. Hockey games have resembled battles at certain points. The physical exertion required of sports can naturally lead to physical expression of emotions. However, we shouldn’t forget that even greater violence in novels, drama and films are considered essential elements of masterworks. The emotions that can be shared during a sporting event are certainly not as raw and also no less refined than the ones felt by King Lear or Willy Loman.
Almost all of us enjoy physical struggle, and we are rewarded when we achieve mastery over our bodies by taking a longer walk or run than usual, staying up later than we normally can to complete an important task, and even more so by learning a new skill, like skiing or playing tennis. It might be difficult to decide to enter the struggle, but once engaged, we can be captured by it, addicted even.
Athletes are our role models in this way. They have mastered skills we cannot imagine ourselves achieving. Interestingly, spectators do more than watch, it has been shown that they actually can have an empathetic mirror experience, feeling what the athlete must feel as he leaps to catch a ball or is crushed beneath a pile of opponents. The squirming and jumping of spectators is evidence of this, although we have probably all felt it, if only the sympathetic pain we feel for a child who shows us her skinned knee.
 |
| Photo by Keith Allison. Copyright Creative Commons |
6. Appreciation of sport requires no skill or discrimination. Nothing so popular, appreciated by almost anyone at whatever level of education or life experience, can be an art.
I once sat through a game of cricket during a visit to Barbados, lost in my attempt to understand the strategies being used by the teams -- the fielders shifting their positions over the large field as each new batsman took his position at the plate, and also before almost each pitch; the strange, immense circumferences made by the arms of the bowlers pitching toward the wicket. There were some obvious connections to the game of baseball, which I knew better, but it was still hard to fathom. A sport can be bewildering to the non-initiated. It is not only the complex rules, like those of baseball and cricket, that befuddle novice spectators, but also what it is that is supposed to constitute excitement and skill. If you don’t know the game, the crowd can be roaring while you sit chewing your popcorn. The pace of cricket matches (some forms lasting up to five days) is even slower than baseball, and it moves at a snail’s pace compared to the don’t-blink paces of basketball and hockey, let alone fencing. There are many scales and paces to aesthetic experiences.
 |
| Photo by ferhat_culfaz. Copyright Creative Commons |
--------------
Ziff, Paul (1974) "A Fine Forehand," Philosophic Exchange: Vol. 5 : No. 1 , Article 11. Available at: http://digitalcommons.brockport.edu/phil_ex/vol5/iss1/11
Keenan, Francis (1972) "The Athletic Contest as a "Tragic" Form of Art," Philosophic Exchange: Vol. 3: No. 1, Article 14. Available at: http://digitalcommons.brockport.edu/phil_ex/vol3/iss1/14/
