Image is (almost) everything

In Australia fans can be fickle. We love an athlete one week and hate them the next. We turn feral in a heartbeat. We’re lucky enough to have selective memories too. Fans of Australian tennis can turn against a star like Lleyton Hewitt very quickly when they see him doing what they interpret as misbehaving on court. Most people, if it was put to them, would agree that the psychological aspect of sport is very important, and I know some athletes are at their best when they use psychological motivational cues enthusiastically. Some people don’t view Hewitt’s behaviour as a personal motivator that’s got a bit out of hand - they deride it as plain bad sportsmanship. When Lleyton is quiet, his game tends to suffer. When Jai Taurima was slapping his legs and yelling before a jump, he won the Olympic silver medal. When he was quiet he’d more likely foul his jump.

How does an athlete maintain the rage - so to speak - for long enough to cross the finish line satisfied they’ve left every speck of energy and aggression, motivation and dedication behind it? How can an athlete perform in a way that satisfies the fans AND behave in a way that is perfect as well - all of the time?

I suggest they can’t, because “perfection” in the eyes of the fans is fluid.

There is no shortage of callers to talk back radio, and letters to the editor from sports consumers expressing their disgust at the behaviour of athletes. Why do these people not speak with their hands and feet and turn the television off, or walk out of the ground where the game is being played? If you don’t like it - don’t watch it. Don’t listen to it. That way you are voicing your opinion in the most effective way. Ratings talk.

Or - more likely - sports fans don’t want perfection. Maybe they want something to complain about and criticise. Maybe that is actually an integral part of the sporting experience. If your team loses is it obligatory to blame the referee, the coach, the captain, the team doctor, the out of favour athlete?

What’s the use of going to the footy with your mates if you can’t sit down at the pub afterwards and analyse the mistakes of the players, criticise the way the coaches chose positions or tactics, or even suggest they were wrong to hold a training camp at an unsuitable altitude as if we were altitude experts? What is there to join us in conversation on Monday morning if it isn’t scandals, such as whether or not half the Wallabies should be sacked because they’re too old, or whether the video referee needs to be used more often because the on-field referees are obviously useless?

All one needs to do is sit at a sporting event and listen out for someone from the fabled breed of the “armchair expert”. These people will commentate on the rules, the marking, the positioning, the techniques, and the physical and mental shape of the athletes. Sometimes they’re right, sometimes they’re outrageously wrong. Generally there are others from their breed who may engage with them in a loud debate on the sidelines. That’s ok though, because they contribute to the atmosphere of the event, and they help generate debate - and hence publicity - for their chosen sport.

We need the “armchair experts”, the “sports fans”, and the scandal. We need something besides religion and politics to debate over our beers, lattes, cuppas or sports waters. We need the intrigue, the skill, the blood, sweat and tears, the wins and losses (and the draws), and we need to see that our sporting celebrities aren’t immune to being as human - as we are.

We aren’t paying money to see our sporting heroes win - we’re paying them to entertain us - and that’s a lot bigger picture than a simple on-field performance.