Jan.24 | It's not just cricket

Why sports matter

No-one else knew what had happened. As I rolled and rose, it looked as though I’d pulled off a crucial catch at a full stretch dive. But I’d felt, rather than seen, the almost imperceptible skip of the ball off the ground and into my hands. I knew it hadn’t carried. The batsman was already walking back and my team-mates were running to congratulate me at this pivotal moment in the final. At this point in my career, I no longer enjoyed playing and cared only about winning. I could claim the catch and no-one would ever know. But I knew. I stood up, ruled out the catch, and threw the ball back to the bowler. We lost the game by a handful of runs.

In one sense, my sporting career was completely undistinguished, so much so that “career” is somewhat misleading. I made school first XIs, had a couple of unsuccessful rep trials, and enjoyed what results I did through application more than ability. But in another, more important, sense, my years on the cricket, hockey, soccer and touch fields of Auckland were remarkable. They shaped me deeply and played a large part in forming the person I became. In this sense, playing sport matters deeply regardless of accomplishment or recognition. In fact, I think it’s more important than ever.

Sports are often polarising, dismissed as merely trivial or elevated to supreme importance. The first represents a fundamental failure to understand sports and is usually a judgement issued by those who dislike them. The second is a form of idolatry, worship of which manifests in incidents like the ugly and shameful treatment meted out to Wayne Barnes by too many New Zealanders. Both attitudes are wrong. Sports at all levels offer multiple important benefits which go far beyond the obvious health outcomes—benefits of character development and social cohesion and, perhaps less obviously, a valuable reminder of our embodied nature and a stimulus to creativity.

Poise, élan, courage and a comeback. Sports at its best. @shaun_johnson90

“My job as a coach and mentor is about what sort of men you become when you finish playing football.” That's Wayne Bennett, perhaps the most successful rugby league coach of all time quoted on the eve of his 900th professional game in charge. Ahead of that milestone, a string of his former players paid tribute to the master coach. What stood out was not just the finals won and the technical and tactical genius. It was also his commitment to his players, a commitment they recognised and responded to. Darius Boyd, for example, said that Bennett “was not the only the best coach but could make me a better person.” This shows the power of sports to shape us.

Our character—our disposition to make right or wrong choices—shows itself most clearly under pressure, and it grows as we reflect on what was revealed. Sports give us character development opportunities as a matter of course, routinely putting us under the microscope and exposing us to the assessment of team-mates, coaches and spectators. When you make a mistake and cost the team, do you own it and try to do better, or make excuses? When someone makes a mistake and lets you down—drops a catch off your bowling, or knocks on in front of the try-line—how do you respond? Your team-mates will see the course you choose and, sooner or later, will give you some unfiltered feedback and an opportunity to reflect and grow. The decision I made in that final was partly born out of reflecting on an earlier, uglier incident on the same field.

Sports foster some particular virtues, like courage. There's the physical kind, like being on the post for a penalty corner with nothing for protection but a mouthguard and shin pads as someone propels what is basically a rock at you with all the speed and power they can muster. There's the mental kind of courage too, the fortitude to go and face your fears even in front of others, and prove to yourself you can do it. There's the development of discipline, of hours spent at practise and pleasures forgone so you can turn up at the game ready to perform. There's a sharp appreciation for justice, for respect for the rules. Do you walk when you nick it or stand your ground and try to get away with it? Either way you'll soon get a reputation and you'll probably find that the opposition, and maybe even your team-mates, are keen to ensure you get what you deserve, whether that's to be dispatched or given the benefit of the doubt. And there's grace, the ability to accept when things don't go your way—when the umpire saws you off or the game slips out of your grasp—and to be generous in victory, honouring your opponent and respecting their skill. This is part of what makes watching sports so fascinating. Each game is a drama, not just a revelation of skill and chance but of the human spirit in all its glory and imperfection.

Sports teach us some deep truths about life by breaking us out of our bubbles and introducing us to people we might otherwise wouldn't meet, people who are very different to us. The teams I played in were a melting pot of ethnicities and attitudes. In an era where so many of us have retreated into tribes and echo chambers, it's crucial that we cherish activities that bring us into close proximity with people who aren't like us, so we can be enriched and tempered by the realisation that there are other points of view and other life experiences, and that across these differences we also have common ground and mutual interests. Sports also give us a place to stand alongside others, a club to belong to and a contribution to make to something that's bigger than us. I may not be the best on the field, but I still have a role to play for the greater good. This is most obvious with team sports but it's true in so-called individual sports too. The player in the middle represents others, whether that's school, club, family, or country, and they belong to a unit of coaches and support crew. A shared place to belong, difference and unity and an appreciation of both—the keys to the social harmony we so desperately need.

Sports also remind us that we are an integrated unity of body and soul, a truth that's harder to see through a gaming console. In this age of the avatar, the more opportunities we have to experience our essential physicality, the better. Sports give us that in spades. There's the sheer joy of timing and poise when everything clicks and the rhythm’s there—when your bowling action is fluid, or you ghost through a defensive line at close range. There's the ecstasy of effort, straining every sinew when you break into the backfield and you can hear the cover defender’s footsteps and his ragged breath behind you as you set out to answer the question, are you good enough? There's the trial of stamina, forcing aching legs and labouring lungs into action one more time for the sake of the team. These are valuable experiences even when they're not successes. The failures—the times we weren't good enough, when our bodies wouldn't respond—remind us of our finitude, that we have inherent limits, and they remind us that we can't remake our bodies or our world to achieve all our desires. They breed in us a respect for the givenness of the physical world as something over and above us, something we participate in without overcoming.

And then there’s sports’ stimulus to creativity, a benefit that goes well beyond the confines of the game. At the heart of a game is play, an activity chosen for the sheer joy of it. Watch the video below of West Indies debutant Kevin Sinclair celebrating his first test wicket to see what I mean. Play brings us fully alive, allows us to revel in the gift of our bodies, our world, and the opportunity to step outside our everyday utilitarian existence and immerse ourselves in something that's an end in itself. Professor of psychology Peter Gray says that play also allows the players, “to solve their own problems and take charge of their own lives,” which develops “mental capacities and attitudes that foster future well-being.” This develops a sense of agency, of self-control and even self-mastery, which Professor Gray says is a stronger predictor of future mental health. He says that it's child-initiated activity that offers these benefits, unsupervised by adults, but even organised sports offer an abundance of opportunities to “take more control of your own life.” When you're on goal, or standing under a high ball, what happens next is up to you and you alone. And then there's the way sports can be a scaffold for improvised and unsupervised play, with countless local variations (think “over the fence on the full is out”) devised by the participants. Along with the mental health benefits of self-determination, these opportunities to innovate teach us that we can make something new from what we have and that we can imagine new possibilities, which is the essence of creativity.

For all these reasons, sports matter deeply. There are other ways to get these benefits of course, and I'm not arguing that sports are better or more important than those other options like music or dance or drama. But I am arguing that sports are important. Something that makes better people, fosters social cohesion and mental health, and stimulates creativity is about as important as it gets. Sports aren't just a game; they’re so much more. Indeed, they're one of the best ways we can spend our time this side of eternity.