We've All Got Baggage

This is something that I had been wanting to write about for a week or so. The absolutely wild day in sports that was April 17th has made it a lot easier to do so.

In sports we all have attachments. Favourite teams, favourite players, that sort of thing. I have remarked in the past how my biases towards things like this, make it difficult to relay my thoughts in an "unfiltered" way, so to speak. I have the utmost respect for sports reporters and journalists who can maintain a level of neutrality in their work. You do see some that do not even try to hide the fact that they have personal preferences, and you have others who might believe that they are staying even-Steven, but their love for the home team somehow seeps through. It is a natural occurrence. They are sure to have grown up loving some team, some player from somewhere, and maybe they have been fortunate enough to write or report for them.

It is not just the scribes and presenters either. It is the fan by definition with their connections of passion to the event's parts and sums that aid in the presentation of these events. Not only that, it is the love (or hate) of player and team that makes a game that much more valuable an experience to the viewer. Even if a straight up aficionado with no allegiances went to a game that turned out to be an absolute masterpiece, he would end up having favorites. As a spectator of performance and creativity, he might begin to follow the ones that impressed him the most.

Then there are the things that could happen wherever you happen to be lucky enough to get a ticket for. Imagine how you would feel to see your home team go down 2-0 on the first two shots of a hockey game in a playoff series that you are not only favoured to win, you are expected to dominate. Then, after going down 4-1, managing to tie it at fours, drop a late goal, score an even later goal, and win it in quick and skillful fashion. With a hat trick, no less.

Or just picture yourself going to see your beloved Atlanta braves and catching the first No-no of 2010. Sure it was those cherished Braves that failed to get one goddamn hit, but that's a pretty big deal. On a side note, I was kind of choked to see those fans sitting on their hands as Jimenez got the final out. It brings to mind a much different reaction to El Presidente's perfection against the Dodgers in 1991. I could describe it, but you are better off listening to the great words of the great, great Vin Scully here.

Orrr imagine going to a nooner and getting home close to midnight. If you felt like sticking around for it. I mean, a booster's gotta get home at some time, right? Now, this does create the possible argument of whether or not the emotions felt in say, needing to feed your cat or getting your grandma her medicine effect one's analysis of the events; however, this game serves as an better example of what is at the heart of any examination of emotion in sports: the athletes.

Think about being a participant in this double Lawrence as I like to call the real long ones. Not only are you trying to maintain your same level of concentration and intensity, frustration might begin to sneak in around, oh I dunno, the 14th. Now put yourself in a shortstop's cleats who has to throw cheese. Or a hurler's who has to play left. There would have to be some nerves or at least a feel of alienation, being in this unfamiliar spot. Finally, there is the feeling of sheer relief if you are on the winning side of the coin, and the exasperation of spending the last seven hours trying to win game eleven of one hundred and sixty-two, only to come up short. With that cat and grandma stuff to boot, I suppose.

The modernists were championed for, among other things, "mapping the human condition." In sports, the human condition is on display. We see the obvious, like the jubilation on the faces of the recent overtime winners, or the anger in a goalie getting chased for his bad play. For every easily identifiable emotion, there are several enigmatic ones. What makes a cager want to check on a fallen teammate on the side line, only to eventually throw elbows at an opposition player that was too close to him? With all of the crazy traffic happening in front of tenders' nets, what are they feeling that makes them believe the best thing to do is embellish interference? Why can certain players bring the right head space consistently- nearly every night, producing at the peak of their abilities, while others struggle to find this spot? Let's face it, sports therapists are pretty busy folks.

Now, there are some out there that might suggest a stressing of emotion hinders proper analysis of a text. There are pieces considered to be manipulative in their execution. I could throw out a Sandy Bullock or Jenifer Aniston vehicle right now, but I'm not feeling especially mean today.

Further clouding emotion's place in art is the weight of importance attached to desired emotional reaches by an artist. Take two recent music videos: Hot Chip's I Feel Better and Hanson's Thinking 'Bout Somethin'. The first example illicits feelings of bizarro-humour and eerie disturbance. It succeeds in creating something that makes the audience try to wrap their heads around the creepy gooffiness. The other is good times innocent joviality through a love letter to a celebrated film. Is there a proper criteria to say which is the "better" video, based on these emotional responses? Is it Hot Chip, because it could be considered more "cutting edge?" Is it the three silly kids because they are clearly presenting a less complex mood, but in doing so reaching higher heights of that fervor? There are also of course the emotional reactions to these pieces. One could just as easily scoff at the fluff factor of "Somethin'," as they could at the attempt at irony in "Better."

The point is that no two people watch the same event or analyse the same piece in the same way. Everyone takes different stock in different emotional punches. Everyone has their favorite texts and qualities therein, as well as the players with their desired traits. This is what leads to their unique taste.

Like I said, I had started thinking about writing about this a while ago, when something not so happy happened to a favourite team of mine. I found myself as many do in these situations, searching for an emotional detachment. I eventually resigned to this being an impossibility. We love what we love and we hate what we hate, as well as everything in between. This is integral to the process of following, examining, even participating in any piece. Emotion is embedded in art and sport and sometimes it takes a day like April 17th, 2010 to remind you just how lucky we are to have it in such great abundance.