Initially, the summer of 2008 looked to be a washout. Terrible weather and no English representatives in Euro 2008 heralded what looked to be an all time low in the history of British summers.
However, with the most successful medal haul in 100 years for Britain at the Olympics, summer sport was, to some extent, salvaged.
Cycling and rowing do not exactly fall under the category of mainstream sport, and yet the pride and excitement that the British public took in the success of its athletes demonstrates the position of power that sport holds in the nation’s psyche. Even at a time of economic uncertainty, the nation rallied behind sports that played little part in our previous conception of the Olympics.
But this alone doesn’t seem enough to merit my already nostalgi$1$3emories of this summer.
This summer the world witnessed two of the greatest moments of sport this century, and they were not in the velodrome in Beijing. The Wimbledon final saw the toppling of the greatest tennis player of all time and the Olympics produced the launching of a chicken nugget fuelled rocket.
As impressive as the feats of Chris Hoy and Rebecca Adlington are, they appear slightly hollow and unfulfilling when compared to the rest of the summer’s sporting triumphs. Usain Bolt’s ridiculing of his competitors and all previous world records in the 100 meters was arguably the most majestic and ludicrous demonstration of sporting prowess that there has ever been. Similarly, the battle of wills, styles and temperaments between Nadal and Federer surpassed the previous benchmark set by Borg and McEnroe for the longest and most dramatic Wimbledon final of all time.
The achievements of the British Olympians seem almost trivial in the light of these two sporting spectacles and yet I hold no grudge against these great athletes who so easily stole the limelight from their British counterparts. The jubilant atmosphere on Centre Court during the mens’ singles final is an example of the marvel of sport and there was not a “Come on Andy” within earshot.
Sport has the ability to transcend the simplistic trappings of patriotism an$1$3ecome something greater than national rivalries.
In less than ten seconds Usain Bolt succeeded in breaking the phenomenon that sport is only interesting to those who have a vested interest in the athletes’ achievements. In those 9.62 seconds he showed the world that sport can mean so much and so little. In less than ten seconds Asafa Powell’s previous world record faded into obscurity and a new man assumed the fickle mantle of the fastest man in the world.
How long will it be before his own freakish performance is ridiculed by the next man? Sport’s fickle nature is at the heart of its beauty; in less than ten seconds you can either be crowned a hero or join the numerous relics of the past.
The only winners in sport are the voyeuristic among us, seeking the next thrilling spectacle. So for the seasons to come I urge you all as sports fans to resist the patriotic urge to follow your national flag blindly. Rather than wallowing in the all too familiar feeling of disappointment when the plucky Brit falls at the first hurdle, revel in the greater offerings served up for our pleasure.
Sport in essence is the same as any other art form. Why should we restrict ourselves to solely appreciating our home grown brands, when there are much finer foreign delicacies to sample? As proud a Brit as I am, when the commentators in the Velodrome cried with exuberance: “Chris Hoy the real McCoy!” I couldn’t help feeling slightly embarrassed. In a sporting world full of vibrancy and talent we surely cannot be contented with the sporting equivalent of a cult classic when the biggest blockbuster of all time is being shown next door.
Similarly, when Andy Murray exhibited his meagre bicep to the adoring Wimbledon crowd, a shiver of shame ran down my back. I had been swept along in the Brit’s magnificent comeback and was a part of the euphoric public but the blindfold had been lifted from my eyes when he so proudly rolled back his sleeve.
Sporting rivalries between nations are great fun and the feeling of unification as a nation is never keener than when sporting pride is on the line. But the Olympics, more than anything, demonstrated that sport is above all a show or a celebration and we shouldn’t deny ourselves the main attraction just because it’s not flying the British flag.
However, the next time Wilkinson lines up a kick or a hush settles over centre court as Murray steps up for match point I am not entirely sure if I will be able to resist the temptation to whisper “Come on Andy!” with the rest of the nation.
So why do we fail to distinguish between sport, and other art forms? My answer would be this. Sport is so unpredictable and uncontrollable that when it reaches its heights it is as close to perfection as human endeavour can represent in art form. When Gareth Edwards scored arguably the best try of all time, Cliff Morgan former rugby player and commentator said: “If the greatest writer of the written word would have written that story, no one would have believed it. That really was something.”
Sporting prowess is a bragging right. I doubt any nation would not hesitate to claim Usain Bolt as their own.
1. scott
I call this the ‘If the British are good at it, it must have no value’ argument.
Some irony in calling for an internationalist appreciation of sporting excellence then citing a try for the Barbarians – surely the definition of parochial amateurism.
Trust me, Gareth Edwards means little beyond rugby union which in global terms is a much smaller concern than, say, cycling.
Want proof? Ask an American or a Spaniard or a Brazilian or a Jamaican to name a cyclist and a rugby player. I’ll bet you a pound to a penny they name a cyclist first.
2. Kurt
I think you miss the point of the article. The central argument is that patriotism should not blind us to other and perhaps greater sporting feats. He also says that he won’t be able to resist patriotism when it sweeps the country. Gareth Edward’s popularity and stardom is irrelevant but his try is the rugby equivalent of Usain Bolt’s achievements in Beijing. It’s just saying that any nation would be eager to claim sporting perfection for themselves- hence the regression into patriotism. The fact that it was a Barbarian try possibly serves to highlight this point further, as any welshman would proudly remind you, although he was wearing the Barbarian jersey he is first and foremost welsh.