First off, let’s be clear. It’s great having sports back. Fall is traditionally the finest season in professional athletics, as baseball, basketball and hockey wind to championships in their fields and football begins its ceremonious unveiling.
And athletes, in particular, deserve praise for putting their asses on the line during a global pandemic. In a time of virulence and existential uncertainty, it’s clear that sports means so much because they mean so little. We human beings need the trivial, particularly when treading the River Gravitas.
But any championship this year (and perhaps next) in worldwide sports will come with an asterisk. And that’s a good thing.
Because what we’re watching now, however entertaining, is essentially a sublime scrimmage, a professional practice, an elegant exhibition. For without an audience, how do we accurately measure athletic achievement? Can we really claim expertise in anything if we can’t display it in front of others?
Take the NBA playoffs, which began last month. As in all sports, teams typically compete for the best record during the regular season to secure home-court advantage throughout the championship run. Now, however, there is no such thing as a “home” game for any sport. There is no advantage to having a home crowd cheer you on — or, just as importantly, to jeer your opponent.
Consider the seismic effect COVID had on major sports. Before coronavirus, this was the winning percentage of teams playing at home, by sport:
| MLB | 53.9% |
| NHL | 55.7% |
| NFL | 57.3% |
| NBA | 60.5% |
| MLS | 69.1% |
The percentages go even higher during playoffs. Now, though, sports have been left essentially spectator-less, and already, basketball has been upended. The Milwaukee Bucks, which were favored to win the Eastern Conference title this year, are down 1-3 and struggling to survive against the middling Miami Heat. At this weekend’s Kentucky Derby, Authentic, an 8-1 longshot, beat heavy favorite Tiz The Law.
Both developments would be big news had they occurred in front of raucous crowds. But does anyone consider Authentic a great horse? Or that the Miami Heat are The Bad News Bears of this year’s basketball season?
Alas, probably not. Part of athletic prowess has to include a measurement of a player’s nerves under pressure. Would quarterback Tom Brady be great without staring down belligerent crowds in opposing stadiums? Reggie Miller once scored eight points in nine seconds, a feat made famous only because the Indiana Pacers guard taunted hostile New York Knicks fans while doing it.
And so it will go, for all sports. During the U.S. Open tennis tournament (also in full bloom) this weekend, an ESPN commentator noted how loud the players were this year, perhaps because of amped-up virus tensions, time off, etc.
“No, that’s how they normally sound,” replied retired tennis champ Lindsay Davenport. The announcer was just hearing a match without crowds, she explained.
This isn’t to say sports haven’t been a blessed respite from the world. Many of the games have been thrilling buzzer-beaters, unlikely upsets and multi-period sudden-death overtime matches.
And god knows I’d dance a jig if one of my teams won a Super Bowl, NBA crown or World Series. I’d be just fine with any grammatical addendum.
But lets face it. Professional sports finds itself facing its own existential question: Does a tree make a sound if there is no one around to witness it?
The the case of sports, the answer is yes. It just sounds like caveat.
