Most see sports as a benign, entertaining game or competition. Not an unusual perspective from a fan's point of view. However, recently we've been reminded sports is also life and death. Dale Earnhardt understood that and decided his love of racing and competing outweighed the real chance he could die in the sport he loved.
Over the years I've covered sports, the most enthralling, insightful and puzzling thing I've seen is the athletes' ability to compete at all costs. That desire is to be both admired and feared. Fear is rarely a part of an athlete's makeup. If it is, you can bet they're rarely successful or outstanding at their sport. The commonality in all great and successful athletes is simple. When the game is on the line, the great athletes want to determine the outcome. As Michael Jordan once told me, "I'm not afraid of failing. But, if I succeed, I want the glory. If I fail, I'll take the blame." Rare is the person or athlete who can truly live up to that game after game. To be able to do so comes from an inner strength, character and a view of oneself as a total person that only a few have.
What fuels that specialness is a single mindedness, dedication and hard work that fans rarely see and even if they did, they wouldn't have a true appreciation for it. I've witnessed that specialness in only a handful of athletes: Dale Earnhardt, Michael Jordan, Scott Hamilton, Billie Jean King, Mark McGwire and Ronnie Lott are among that handful. In each they truly understood they were only as good as their last performance. They were honest enough with themselves to know what they needed to work on and they worked on it until they improved to a level of personal acceptance of that shortcoming. Pain, illness and injury only made them better because it forced them to dig deeper into their well of talent. Think about it. Michael Jordan destroying Utah in game 6 of the NBA Championships even though he was sick, dehydrated and playing with a 102 degree temperature. Scott Hamilton fighting cancer so he could continue to thrill millions of skating fans. Ronnie Lott having the tip of his injured finger cut off on the sideline during a game so he could go back in and help his 49er team win. Billie Jean King battling opponents while also having to battle bigots against women athletes and her sexual persuasion. Mark McGwire chasing a dream and a record while enduring the daily media inquisition and pressure about that chase. For McGwire, breaking Roger Maris' single season home run mark was not Dorothy's trip to Oz, especially when fans and media questioned his effort because it was revealed he was using a muscle building supplement that was banned in some sports, but not in baseball. And Dale Earnhardt, who was able to maintain his competitive intensity and racing focus even though he knew the slightest bump could send him into a wall at 180 mph with deadly consequences. He gave as well as he got on the track and his sense of personal satisfaction of his efforts not only motivated him race after race, but also allowed him to accept the potential deadly consequences of things in racing he couldn't always control.
While I can appreciate an athlete's single mindedness, dedication and hard work, I'm often puzzled at an athlete's willingness to do it at all costs. Dallas Cowboy's quarterback Troy Aikman is a prominent example. There is little for him to gain by continuing to play football after 11 concussions. His agent, Leigh Steinberg, and his family and friends all urge him to retire. Doctors all say the cumulative effects of repeated concussions can be devastating down the road. Aikman doesn't need the money. He doesn't need a championship to validate his long career. He has three Super Bowl rings. And, he may not need to throw another pass to make it to the Hall of Fame. So why continue? I suspect the answer lies in the belief by all athletes, the great and not so great, they are "bullet proof" and they want to be the ones to decide when enough is enough. It's inbred in athletes. To quit on a play, in a game or on your career is tantamount to being a coward. In reality, to know when to quit takes courage and a true understanding of yourself and the environment you're in. If Troy Aikman wants reality and truth, all he has to do is look at the devastating toll staying too long in boxing took on Muhammad Ali. The punishment, head hits and brutality of boxing and football are similar. One can only hope Aikman's awareness of that reality and truth comes to him before others who are concerned and love him have to endure the consequences.
There's one other group of athletes that puzzle me. Those who take illegal performance enhancing drugs. To do so tells us something about the character of the person and the athlete. Using illegal enhancing drugs tells us you're afraid to go out and compete on an equal basis. You'd rather cheat and win then work hard and lose. There's no rationale that makes cheating in sports acceptable. The one most athletes who cheat use is "everyone else is doing it." That may be fine for everyone else, but your performance, your effort, your results are a reflection of you. What enduring sense of appreciation of competing and winning can a cheating athlete have? The great athletes relish knowing they competed to the best of their ability. Winning fairly only enhances their enjoyment. Losing only lets them know what they need to work on for the next competition.
Sports participation at any level is a wonderful window to who we are. The sad part is we see losing as failure and winning as the only thing. What we should see is the beauty and character of competing. Great athletes love the effort; the reward and the lessons learned. Sometimes those lessons are painful and deadly. But, all great athletes know in the final analysis, the only people they have to satisfy are themselves.
I feel better now.
I'm Ron Barr.
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