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I used to
think that I loved sports because it was so pure. I mean, the theory is you
go out there, play hard, give it your all, take it for the team, play with
heart, and leave it on the field.
Leave it on the field?
What does that really mean exactly?
Oh, I know they tell you it means
you're not holding anything back so win or lose; you have nothing to be
ashamed of, nothing to second guess. You did everything you could so if you
won it was by giving it everything and if you lost, it was not for lack of
trying. Of course, that always works out much better when you win, doesn't
it?
I hardly ever hear a championship
team talk about leaving it on the field. It's always part of a half time
speech when you're down 23 points. It's always a post game press conference
answer to the inevitable, "do you think you could have done more," questions
that some young reporter feels is important and ground breaking. It's the
Epitaph of the Hall of Fame careers of people like Randall Cunningham, Jim
Kelly, Marv Leevy, Dan Marino and hundreds of other paper champions
throughout history.
Winners never leave it on the field.
The winners have parades to celebrate it off the field. The winners have the
post game press conference that includes confetti and MVP Trophies. The
winners go on talk shows and do anything but leave it on the field. Hell, if
you play in the NHL each player on the championship team makes it a point to
take it off the field and hang out with it. Don't get me wrong, you
occasionally have a team come back from 23 down invoke it. Some coach tells
the press, "We won because we relaxed. We were too tense out there in the
first half and I told them to relax and just leave it all on the field.
That's what they did and it won us the ballgame." Then he'll walk off to be
showered in champagne and probably his choice of young female sports
groupies who want a little from a championship coach.
Still, even with the various improper
invocations of the term and the all too liberal references to it, there is
still something amazingly pure about both the idea of leaving it on the
field, and the reality of it.
I was watching the Little League
World Series recently on ESPN2. I didn't catch it until around 3a.m., but
I'd managed to avoid early discovery of the outcome, so it was a pretty
exciting game. I watched the Ft. Worth team (which is the local team for me)
take a no hitter into the 6th inning. The game ended as a 1-0 victory for
the Southwest, the pitcher had 12 Ks 3 walks and only 1 hit. He was calm at
the end of the game. The biggest complaint he had was that the hit might
have been an out, but he didn't care, because he won, and probably couldn't
have made a call that close himself, so why complain. He left it on the
field.
Can you imagine that call going the opposite way? Some team loses 1-0 in the
Little League World Series on a no hitter and there was a close call at
first that might have kept their hopes alive. It was better for everyone
that we didn't see a No Hitter, because the losers never leave it on the
field. Hell, I was pulling for the No Hitter, but I would hate to see one
like that. It gave them the moral victory that their coaches would have
struggled to find for them, as well as cut off the complaints at the pass.
The kids might not have complained,
but it's practically the duty of any good manager to rally the troops. The
all too close call at first would have been subtly dropped in during the
post game press conference. Nothing controversial, nothing out of the
ordinary, but it would have been said, "Oh, there was a close call at first
base that we'd like to have back, but it can always go either way. Sometimes
we get that call in our favor. We just have to move on. I'm sure," it should
be noted that the word sure would be stretched to insinuate that he isn't
really as sure as he says he is, "that he made the call that he felt was
right." It's not bad form, it's just Par for the course.
The other thing I noticed was how
passionate these kids were when I watched them. As you can tell from the
score, the other pitcher was no slouch himself. He gave up a total of 5
hits. When he gave up the run in the 5th (I think it was) he was almost in
tears. So was his outfielder who misplayed the ball. So was the
centerfielder who narrowly missed making Sports Center two batters earlier
on a play that went from "Brilliant!" to, "Great effort, but that's a
double." That double was the man who scored.
The kid who got a hit in the 6th
wasn't doing so well either. He was the guy who laid out in center field and
almost made the play that prevented the eventual scoring run from getting to
second. The impact jarred his body so ferociously that the ball popped out
of his glove. Maybe he was crying because of the impact; he hit the ground
harder than I would like to. More than likely, though, it only hurt because
he didn't make the play. If that ball hadn't rolled out he would have felt
no pain. There would have been no tears.
…By the way, nothing is more
tragically ironic than a kid with his war paint, paint that is designed for
the soul purpose of intimidation and simulated ferocity, running and smeared
from the tears he's crying over a certain run scoring single. The kids wore
their emotions on their sleeves. They weren't even off the field and they
were already preparing to leave it there. They were down only 1-0, but
resolved themselves to leaving it on the field.
What I couldn't decide was whether or
not this show of emotion was refreshing, or disturbing. I found myself
thinking that the pros might certainly endear themselves to the fans if they
showed a bit more emotion, but at the same time, I watched that heart on
those kids sleeves help bring them down. They couldn't see the ball as well
for the tears; their faces were wrinkled up from holding back sobs. The
crazy thing was, when it was still 0-0 with a man on second for the eventual
winning team the pitcher got an out on a kid who tried unsuccessfully to lay
down a bunt, then eventually went down swinging. Never mind that his team
wasn't losing and would, on the next batter, take a 1-0 lead that it would
hold. He failed to lay down a bunt and then struck out, and he nearly burst
into tears because of it. Was this good? Was his drive to succeed and that
raw emotion good? Or was it too much emotion to have poured into a game?
Well, devil's advocate in me wants to
say they should have stayed focused, saved the tears for after the game when
they were off the field, or better yet, should've been left on the field.
Part of me says that it's not fair to your team if you try to pitch while
barely holding back the flood gates. I don't think you should be the last
hope for your team when you can't focus, because you're already convinced
that the game was over before you even stepped up to bat.
The sports fan in me is telling that
other part of me to shut the fuck up.
I immediately think about what the
professional game of baseball is going through as I write this. Strike dates
set only a couple of weeks away, players who play only for money, teams that
care more about profits than they do about winning. I'd like to see a few
people cry a little bit out there. If Carl Everett broke down crying after a
loss, I wouldn't hate watching him play so much.
There are players in the pros that
play with emotion. Hell, most of my Rangers play with emotion. Alex
Rodriguez is ironically both a shining example of everything that is right
and everything that is wrong with baseball at the same time.
He makes more money than anyone else,
but he is also playing better than anyone else. To be fair, almost
everything he does is on the side of the good stuff. When you talk about
A-Rod and forget that he makes money, he is a prime example of all that is
good about the game. That salary is the only blemish on his record and it
was the fault of an overzealous owner and not himself. It's just not logical
that you turn down 252 million dollars. Earlier today, I watched him go 4-4
with a walk off home run. When the Rangers, who are dead, last in their
division, won that game, you'd think they were in the race.
I guess in baseball leaving it on the
field can start sooner than any other sport. If you are as far back as the
Rangers are you can only play for fun or for pride. I guess you get that
childlike essence back when the game you're playing is the only real reason
you have left to play at all.
Unfortunately, we can't have all the
pro teams out of the playoff hunt and below .500, so we're stuck hoping that
they come around, or we have to watch the Little League World Series. Even
with the scandal from last year, and the near cropping of scandal early on
this year, it's still much more pure. The kids don't play for money, the
kids don't play for fame, the kids don't play for endorsement deals and they
don't play for themselves.
When you play for yourself you don't
cry because you left a man on second, those tears are because you feel like
you let your team down. When you play for money, you could care less about
winning, and only that you did your job. These kids were overemotional
because they really cared about what they were doing. They didn't get 5
games to underachieve and eventually pull it together, they had one game to
go on, or go home. They had little choice but to leave it on the field I
guess. Even if they also left it out on their sleeves a little early, they
certainly managed to leave it on the field as well.
Post game sound bites about, "getting
them next time, we underestimated them and they took advantage of it, they
were just better today, they really had their bats going, we just couldn't
contain the run, our receivers didn't get the job done, somebody needs to
step up, special teams were really sloppy, they just got us this time, we
left it all on the field."
Well, that's the stuff that sometimes
makes me question the purity of pro sports. If you can't even say what you
mean, then how are you keeping it pure? Show me something real.
Say what you mean:
"We got our asses kicked, we were cocky, and Randy Moss doesn't realize this
is a team sport, Warren Sapp talks way too much for a guy who never does
anything, that guy Everett isn't good enough to refuse a rehab assignment,
neither is John Rocker, Tom Brady didn't really earn the right to hold out
for a better contract and wouldn't even think of it if Bledsoe were still
around (Bledsoe is one of the good ones), I know that Kevin Brown is
overpaid and no, Mr. Selig, that's not your ass, that's where I was about to
plant this tree."
Those kids might have lost a bit of
focus, and they may have lost the game, but not because they don't block,
not because they're too good to lay out for a tough grab in center field
during a contract year and don't wanna get hurt, not because they were too
busy talking to play defense, not because they aren't getting paid enough
and not because they were being selfish. They lost a bit of focus because
they got a little emotional. Even if that's not always the best way to win,
it's sure as hell the best way to play, and it is, most certainly, pure. |
