"The spirit of the game"

I had one particular friend at school who embodied the “spirit of the game”. There was never a fear of losing, he just loved the game, whatever the result, he was there with a smile on his face ready to compete. It truly was infectious. Everything had the potential to be made into a game or a competition. My favourite of the random games we came up with was actually more of a physical challenge. No name, these details were not important. We treated it like an elite sport, and gave it the up most respect. The rules were simple. On every theatre trip we went on, no matter where we were, we had to run to a McDonald’s, eat a meal and run back before the start of the play or concert. A steeple chase of sorts. A run, the hurdle of a large meal, then more running. Certainly no puddle would stop us. As the school bus pulled in front of the theatre, we would already be eyeing up where we were and remembering previous routes to the closest burger. Tightening our laces and checking if we had the right cash. The bus door opened, the teacher trying to corral the group into the theatre as they handed out the tickets. Our goal was clear though, we grabbed our tickets, put our heads down and we were gone. Darting left and right, no pedestrian or traffic could stop us. It was flat out speed. Getting there was only half the battle though. Lowering the heart rate was key. Then ordering the food and eating at a pace that was quick but still gave you the ability to run back without being sick. This was truly a skill. The rush of carbs hit the body and the large dose of sugar rushes the brain as we embarked on the return leg. Checking the ticket for the name of the play that we probably had no interest in. We were there for the game, but to finish we needed to find that theatre. “Waiting for Godot!” we shouted as we saw the flashing sign outside. A final burst of speed to make the doors then hustling to our seats. Another victory, as we sat down before the curtains raised, everyone around us clueless to the athletes in their company. I have no idea about the miles we ran over the years, or the carbs eaten. I don’t remember how many times we were late and had to find our seats in the dark to the sound of tutting. What I do remember though was how incredibly hard this silly game was and how much fun we had. Most importantly I will always remember the spirit of the game my friend shared with me.

This past weekend saw a change in the format of one of the world’s oldest cup competitions. The FA cup is a knockout football competition that has been played in Britain for 154 years, and this year the Football Association decided to scrap the actually rather odd ‘replay format’. One of the reasons this was “controversial” was due to the romance surrounding this particular knockout cup competition. This competition gives smaller non league clubs the opportunity to be drawn against the bigger league clubs, that is if they can make it to the third round where the larger Premier League and Championship clubs enter the competition.

For American readers, I will use baseball to try and explain how special the FA Cup can be. The equivalent situation would be if the Tri-City ValleyCats, of Troy New York, come up against the LA Dodgers in the new “Baseball Association Cup” competition. (This is a fixture my brother and I would pay a lot of money to see). The chance to see the semi professional local clubs test their abilities against the juggernauts of the game. A further trait that makes this competition unique, which also contrasts to American sports, is the replay format. This is where you are rewarded for drawing a game. Allow me some more colour here to help paint this picture. Imagine a baseball game can end in a draw. It is the third round of the BA Cup. It’s late into the LA night, top of the 9th at Dodger Stadium. The Dodgers are trying to close out a 3-2 win against a gutsy non league ValleyCats team. Craig Kimbrel is on the mound needing 1 final out to take the win. Enter Oscar Campos, the ValleyCats catcher, he has struggled through the night and is 0-4 but all his dreams are about to come true. Campos latches onto a fast ball and sees it fly over centre field into a group of ValleyCats fans partying in the bleachers while Enrique Hernandez can only stand and observe from centre field. An eruption of cheers and the silence of shock simultaneously fill the stadium. Zeke Wood gets the save of his career and the game ends 3-3. The ValleyCats have forced the World Series Champions to have to battle it out again in front of, what will be a sell out crowd in the humble stands of the Joe Bruno Stadium of Rensselaer County.

A true David v Goliath, this would become folklore in the bars of Troy New York. You have to be pretty cold if that scenario doesn’t tug on the heart strings and seduce you to fall in love with the game. Surely taking this away is “ruining the spirit of the game!?”. Well, I don’t think so. Yes, it is undeniable that the replays of the FA Cup were great and non league football fans will forever have stories of dramatic midweek replays against Premier League teams. I hope that folklore is passed down for generations. However we still have the FA Cup and non league teams will still upset the giants of the game. Those shock replays will be replaced by stories of dramatic penalty shootout wins. The new will soon feel the norm, and we will still have the incredible drama of athletic skill to enjoy.

I believe the change in format has highlighted a much greater problem with sport, and that is how it is written and talked about. The sports writers and pundits (often ex players), love nothing more than to cannibalise themselves. Cut their noses off and have a good meal as they spite the sport they claim to love and are paid to talk about. Obsessed with harking on about an apparent golden era of a sport which they believe existed. The reality is if they go back and look at the “golden era” they now romanticise, they would most likely hear themselves bemoaning something else about the sport instead of saying how perfect it currently was and nothing needs to change. I do understand there are frustrations when something new causes friction with our edited memories of how we believe things used to be but I think sometimes we can forget about the magic that is happening in front of us. Rather than wasting column inches on whether or not VAR is the death of football, let’s focus on the incredible sporting moments that happen regardless of the structure. Let’s romanticise the now as well as the past. I have always tried to stop myself from becoming one of those fans that is addicted to just knowing the score. Following your team with a drag down on your phone screen, refreshing the score on a sports app. Or worse following a team through a betting app. Never actually taking in the theatre of the game. Sometimes I think we all need to remember that the score, the trophies and the wins are a bonus but people didn’t fill stadiums just to see Federer win another Wimbledon. He captivated millions with his style, grace and effortless footwork that brought a beauty to the game of tennis. Then when he was beaten in that epic 2008 final by a young Rafael Nadal, we remember the drama and the camera flashes as night fell over the marathon match, not how a new Hawkeye technology was a little slow and breaking up the game.

I truly believe sport is as much of an art form as music or painting. People dedicating their careers to perfecting their skills, trying to execute an idea. We are watching and supporting a hard working labour force. We are given endless sports everyday of the year and those hard working athletes never fail to entertain us. I don’t look back at those pre theatre runs to a McDonald’s thinking of the times we failed or succeeded. I smile remembering the determination my good friend had in always trying. He loved the game, he really encapsulated the true spirit of it. Whatever the format, whatever challenge, he just loved to compete and always did it laughing. I cant remember ever desperately wanting to run and eat a large burger and fries and then sit through a 2 hour play. Honestly I think I was just captivated by running in his wake, dodging tourists, living off his excitement for the game.

A message to all those talented writers and pundits out there. My good friend is sadly not with us anymore but please learn one thing from him and our meaningless challenge we set ourselves. Please spend less time telling us how things are not as good as they used to be, or how a technology or changes are ruining sport. Put your skills into passing down the folklore of sport, share the beautiful spirit of the game and tell us new stories about athletic achievements within the silly sports we all love.