Gold medals, world records and untouchable performances aren’t enough. Though they should satisfy our appetite for athletic supremacy – and isn’t this how the Olympics came about?? – the truth is they only make us hungrier for higher distinction. If he can do that, what else could he do? We know we should accept what the world’s best give us with humble gratitude, as if receiving the Eucharist, but in the comfort of our living rooms we are more given to greed; we can be more superficial.
For it isn’t enough to know that Michael Phelps is the world’s fastest swimmer or that Usain Bolt is the world’s fastest (runner). We devour these distinctions voraciously, like some dollar-menu cheeseburger, then wipe our mouths clean and ask for more. And when the menu has been expired, we turn to cross-sport comparisons, and in our effort to declare the best, to crown a king, we backwardly diminish what the athletes have done.
Still, the questions persist. And unfortunately, they are enticing and they are riveting and most of all they are irresistible. A favorite of today, after both Phelps and Bolt reasserted their Olympic dominance, asks, between the American swimmer and the Jamaican runner, who is the better athlete. While Phelps can claim to be the superior Olympian, what with his 22 medals (18 gold) and 7 World Records, pronouncing the better athlete of the two is a more abstract question. We can qualify one’s athleticism by examining his physical traits and talents but it is ultimately an impossible mark to quantify. Once upon a time, the winner of the decathlon was proclaimed to be the World’s Best Athlete – and where has the glory in this event gone? – but this marathon affair has lost some of its luster, carrying much less weight in the modern Olympic landscape. So now, we are left with personal judgment and theoretical evaluation to measure athleticism, and this process itself relies on a nonconcrete definition of an athlete.
In this space, we’ll define an athlete as someone who is naturally inclined, naturally gifted in sport. Someone who is instinctively dominant on a track, in a pool, on a court, or on a field. Athleticism here, is not an acquired trait but an intrinsic one.
For Phelps, the argument centers on his versatility as a swimmer. He has won gold in 8 different events featuring all four swimming strokes. He is not a specialist, even if he has ruled the butterfly the way Odysseus ruled Ithaca. While athletes now tend to concentrate their skills within a narrowing scope – a trend that has seen the multi-sport athlete become strictly a baseball player, who becomes strictly a pitcher, who becomes strictly a pitcher against lefties, who becomes strictly a pitcher against lefties in late-game situations – Phelps is still an all-around swimmer. His across-the-board proficiency is put on grand display in the 200 meter Individual Medley, a race he has won in each of the past three Olympic Games.
For Bolt, the argument centers on his forcefulness as a sprinter. He may not own as many medals as Phelps, but his victories have been no less decisive. In the closing stretch of a race, whether the 100m or the 200m, Bolt possesses a third gear that no one else can match. And like a well-oiled Ferrari, he slips sinuously into this next gear, without a hitch or a lurch in his step. It just happens. To watch Bolt run is to see Slam Poetry incarnated, the way he personifies power and vigor, grace and rhythm. It’s like Robert Frost competing in a rap battle. On Thursday, the Jamaican phenom will look to become the first Olympian ever to win back-to-back gold medals in both the 100m and 200m.
They are both stars in their own right: Phelps, the quietly confident assassin, the perfectionist; and Bolt, the lovably bumptious superstar, the celebrity. They are both physical specimens, Phelps at 6’4, 195 pounds and Bolt 6’5, 210 pounds, and they are both better than anyone else at what they do. How is it possible to declare one a better athlete than the other?
Consider this: You are told today that you will be given full ownership of a random sports franchise tomorrow. You don’t know in which sport or in which country, but you do know it will be at the highest level of competition. You are given the choice of either Usain Bolt or Michael Phelps for an added member of your team. You have to choose one.
Conventional wisdom might say Bolt, simply because more sports involve running than swimming. And though Phelps might seem spidery and ungainly, he surely wouldn’t have won 22 Olympic medals if that assessment held any weight. (Not to mention, there have been plenty of gangly guys like Phelps who have made names for themselves in the pros. At 6’9, 215 lbs., Tayshaun Prince happens to be a favorite.) But what Bolt does seem to possess over Phelps, at least in the movement department, is this forceful explosiveness. When Phelps swims, he is electrifyingly fast, but he doesn’t claw at the water the way Bolt pounds on the track. Perhaps this is simply a reflection of Phelps’ elegance as a swimmer, but there does seem to be a more insistent, resounding manner to Bolt’s display. At top speed, Bolt is more like a semi than a human being, the way he steams down the track, his stoic expression masking the might of the engines roaring within. If you stood in his way, you’d soon be road-kill; it’s hard to say the same about Phelps.
But speed and force is just one dimension of an athlete. Hand-eye coordination is equally important. Unfortunately, swimming and sprinting give little glimpse into how well one can catch a fade, time up a fastball, or slam home a volley. Phelps’ competence in golf suggests he has a reliable set of hands, but at the same time, I’m not feeding Phil Mickelson on the crease or springing Jim Furyk on a breakaway just because they can hammer a tee shot. And while Usain Bolt has his sights set on Manchester United, recently telling star defender Rio Ferdinand to have Sir Alex Ferguson give him a call, his performance here is nothing to write home about. (Nice left foot though.)
With little decided, let’s return to the definition of an athlete that we posed above: Someone who is naturally inclined, naturally gifted in sport. Someone who is instinctively dominant on a track, in a pool, on a court, or on a field. Athleticism here, is not an acquired trait but an intrinsic one.
What Bolt does then, is more congruous with athleticism than what Phelps does. Running is something we are all capable of doing – putting one foot in front of the other, as fast as we possible can, is an inborn ability. Swimming is not. That’s not to belittle what Phelps is able to do, but Bolt’s talents seem more natural, more inherent than Phelps’. He churns his legs, and he flies.
It just happens.
So I’ll take Bolt. I don’t know if he’ll play for my team, but you can never have too much speed, as the saying goes. If I’m an NFL owner, he’ll be a decoy wide receiver. If I’m an MLB owner, he’ll be a lethal pinch runner. If I’m an NBA owner, he’ll be a transition machine. If I’m an NHL owner, I’ll introduce him to those guys from Cool Runnings.
I just hope I’m not awarded a waterpolo squad.
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