The role of enigmas in sport

Gareth Barry and Mario Balotelli: both unique in their own way

Finding the balance between discipline and creativity in sport, just as in different aspects of life, requires an unwavering dedication to one’s craft. Neither of these qualities can do much without the other and once in a while we come across a sportsman who summons something entirely out of the ordinary and implements this seemingly ungodly piece of magic with the simplicity of genius. These are the moments we tend to remember. These are the men we tend to remember. But are these magical moments just rewards for their discipline and training or are they God-given gifts that these men bring to bear on the record books to put all of us mortals firmly in our place?

The question probably doesn’t have an answer, just like all of life’s greatest mysteries. Nonetheless, I shall endeavor, as does Will McAvoy in ‘The Newsroom’, to create a well informed electorate.

We have all heard and formed opinions with regard to the comparisons between Dravid and Tendulkar and Ronaldo and Messi. They fit the bill quite nicely. Another pair that fits the bill is the duo of ‘Rush’, the story of the 1976 Formula 1 world championship. Two immensely successful drivers in James Hunt and Niki Lauda do battle in one of the sport’s most riveting rivalries, in a sport where such rivalries are not uncommon. Both these drivers won world championships, but they had unbelievably different styles.

Lauda was precise, economic and a generally straitlaced driver, while Hunt lived on the edge and was the kind of company from whom one’s parents told one to stay away. Lauda would overtake the car ahead with the twin aids of careful timing and manipulation while Hunt would throw the kitchen sink and dive for any sliver of daylight at any turn, anywhere, and on any circuit. They both got past their men, but in different ways.

There exists a vast dichotomy between the above analogy and the next one. Gareth Barry and Mario Balotelli both won the English Premier League title with the same Manchester City side. One did it with sheer discipline while the other with genuine creativity. Baloteli did a few things, good and bad, that people remember, while Barry’s name will probably be forgotten in a few years. Neither player ever faced the risk of his kit number being retired.

The fans tend to remember two kinds of sportsmen. One is the kind that does something so outrageous that the fans just cannot fathom the deed in itself, like Liverpool’s Steven Gerrard fuelling three goals in six minutes against AC Milan in the 2005 Champions League final. The second kind is the one that appears moderately skilled and yet holds his own amongst men “better” than himself, like Darren Fletcher, who runs around a football pitch probably because he enjoys it more than anyone else and still commands a first team position when fully fit.

Once every season, Fletcher reminds us of his shooting acumen, which more than matches his running skills. Players like Barry fall in no man’s land, while those like Balotelli, despite definitely staying off the lists of youth icons and UNICEF backed role models, fall in the outrageous category.

We, as fans and the media, represent the sports we follow and are obscurely yet indelibly responsible for shaping and implementing the written and unwritten laws of those very sports. We cannot morally justify castigating and dissecting every overtaking manoeuvre Lewis Hamilton engages in, or every yellow card Mario Balotelli picks up.

They are men who have earned their right to engage in behaviour some might brand ‘eccentric’, as long as they keep performing. These are the men that make it possible for players like Barry and the tea ladies behind the scenes to earn their wages. They keep their sports from slipping into the abyss of normalcy. Fans get enough “normal behavior” in their routine lives; the very reason, I believe, they follow sport is because they want to get a glimpse of a world that isn’t normal.

To conclude, would you as a fan rather watch a team of eleven players like Gareth Barry run around a football pitch, or eleven players like Mario Balotelli? Thank God for hyperbole, eh?