SHAPIRO: Integrity of Ivy League sports

It’s a rather sad time to be a professional sports fan. The World Series has concluded, the NBA talks stand at an impasse, and, unless you’re a Green Bay Packers fan, there’s little reason to be excited about the NFL. With Columbia football at a shocking 0-7 on the season, Ivy League sports may not appear to be the best place to turn for solace. But at the same time there is something refreshing, raw, and quaint about Ivy sports that you simply don’t find at the pro level anymore. The advent of modern technology, intensifying competition between TV networks, and a push for innovative advertising techniques has created what I like to call the “Sports Theater” in the world of professional sports. While the Theater is now an integral facet of pro sports, we are fortunate that it has yet to invade the Ivy League.

Over the last century and the last two decades in particular, the classical concept of a sports arena has been transformed into a mesmerizing theatrical production (hence “Sports Theater”). Let’s use the American pastime of baseball as an example. Watching a baseball game in modern times doesn’t mean just flipping on the TV for the first pitch. Before the game even begins there is a pre-game show and usually some sort of introductory ceremony or ritual (i.e. a video montage). When game-time arrives we, the fans, are barraged with information—stats, color commentary, advertisements, the box score and, a limitless supply of graphics. Modern technology has paved the way for visual aids galore, many of which are just plain gimmicky and of little use to the viewer. Some graphics, like a virtual strike zone, serve a practical purpose, while others, like virtual fireworks after a home run, serve an aesthetic purpose, if any at all. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t need elaborate, eye-popping transitions in and out of every instant replay. Even the necessary elements of a televised sports broadcast (i.e. stats, the score, etc.) are often presented in a distracting manner. I don’t need a bunch of twisting metallic lines surrounded by dancing stars at the top of my screen to understand that a player stole second. Three hours and dozens of commercials and station-identification breaks later, the game is over. The Theater, however, goes on. You can’t forget the post-game show, with interviews too rushed to allow players time to throw on a shirt. Ad agencies and broadcasting networks have given new meaning to the baseball moniker “The Show.”

The same holds true for attending a game in person. Swap out your home TV for high-definition, super-mega-jumbo-trons and voilà: the Theater in-person. With stadiums that bear a greater resemblance to spaceships than sporting arenas, it is easy to see how the Theater exists both on TV and in the flesh. You no longer just drive to the stadium, watch the game and leave. Before you even enter the park gates you are hit with advertisements—in the parking lot, on your ticket and often from the blimp flying overhead. The second you pass through that turnstile someone will likely hand you some sort of handout bursting with ads under the friendly guise of winning something like a free cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. After the national anthem—during which you might be graced with fireworks or a fly-by from fighter jets overhead—there is usually a ceremonial first pitch (or coin flip or puck drop or tip off, etc.). Get the idea?

So what should we make of this extravagance? The reality is that most of what we see when watching pro sports on TV or in-person serves the end goal of maintaining viewership and thus generating more ad, ticket and concessions revenue. In some instances the Theater has come to overshadow the game itself. I pose a few legitimate and serious questions: Why does Chase Field, the proud home of the Arizona Diamondbacks baseball team, need a swimming pool in right-center field? When did the debate over the usage of video replay in sports become more contentious than the calls being debated? And in what year did the Super Bowl halftime show and commercials become more important than who actually wins the championship trophy?

Strip away the artificial layers that have been piled on top of a MLB, NFL, or NBA game and you are left with the actual sport itself. Underneath the ads, super-slow-motion replays, on-screen trivia questions, superfluous commentary, seemingly impossible camera angles, players wired with microphones, and inexplicably ridiculous mascots (cough, Phillie Phanatic, cough) is a rather simple game usually consisting of a ball and an objectified place to put the ball.

I don’t intend to argue that the Theater is necessarily a bad thing, but rather that it tends to divert attention away from the sport itself in an overt ploy to generate profits. I also can’t blame anyone for this since teams are businesses and the business of sports is a booming industry. Columbia football may be a lost cause this season, but the basketball team is revving up for its 2011-12 campaign, which begins next Friday against UConn. And when you show up to your next Lions football, basketball, or baseball game you won’t see most of the distractions of the Theater. Instead you will see two teams in simple uniforms with simple logos and a self-explanatory mascot (yay Roar-ee!) face off. There is a simple beauty to the minimalist nature of Ivy sports. We may not always win, but at the end of the day the Ivy League remains one of the final frontiers of sports being played they way they were intended.

Michael Shapiro is a List College senior majoring in history and modern Jewish studies.
sports@columbiaspectator.com