JOCK TALK

 

               Anyone in his or her ninth decade on this planet has regrets, and I am no exception. My main one journalistically is the time I spent in sports press conferences or locker rooms, taking down the words of coaches and players and, later, passing some along to my readers. Occasionally a quote would illuminate a subject, but the big majority of them were blather, verbal pablum designed to placate or mislead the multitudes. Artificial intelligence could have provided better content and, without doubt, soon will.

               The subject of sports blab is timely because the TV and radio folks have decided we want more of it. Interviews fill the airwaves and no place is microphone-proof, even the playing fields. Baseball in particular is enamored with that, allowing players to be mic’d and questioned while games are in progress and they are at work. I could live happily without that.

               Just as TV action replays have been teaching tools for athletes, so has the constant playing of interviews; jocks just out of school know just what to say, and when. The best examples of this can been seen in the telecasts of the NFL and NBA college-player drafts. After every early-round pick a microphone toter will thrust his tool in the face of the chosen player and ask for his reaction. Invariably, the kid will express delight with the team that chooses him, no matter how woebegone, and promise to “work hard” to make it better.

 Indeed, the subject of hard work is probably the most overworked in sports. Yes, big-time jocks put it a few daily hours in the weight room or on the running track, but most of their practice consists of things others do for fun, like shoot baskets or play catch. Moreover, no exercises would mean much unless the athlete is in the top .01% of the population in natural abilities. As a 5-foot-8, 135-pound high schooler of ordinary physique I could have bounced a basketball every spare moment between ages 5 and 18 and never sniffed a college hoops scholarship, much less an NBA spot.

In listening to jock talk it’s good to note the way athletes speak of their situations. Rather than employing the conventional “I” or the royal “we”, they prefer to use the word “you.” They rarely lack for ego, but “you” introduces the common touch, implying that anyone would do the same. Ian Happ, a Chicago Cubs outfielder, illustrated this a few weeks ago in describing his team’s late-season, win-or-die throes (they died). “You have no choice [but to win],” said he typically. “That’s what you’ve got to do.”

Flat-out statements of fact are avoided, however obvious they may seem, mitigating any blame that may attach to them. David Ross, the Cubs’ manager, described a starting pitcher’s very bad outing thusly: “He kind of lost command a little bit out there.” And hey, if it was just a small problem, it might be easily corrected.

Similarly, athletes often couch their own subpar efforts (over par in golf) in terms of “struggle”; for instance, a basketballer who has just missed his last dozen shots will confess to “struggling” from the floor. The reasoning here is clear: struggle is noble and can lead to better things, while failure not only is pathetic, it also may be terminal.

A common excuse for an athlete who is struggling is that outside factors may have “distracted” him from his tasks. This can be counted upon to elicit a sympathetic response, even when the distraction may be the TV commercials he’s shooting on game days or the battery charge he faces.

The sports world is so committed to euphemisms it uses them to describe praiseworthy performances. When a jock plays well his fellows and the sportscasters who ape them will say he “stepped up” or “came up big.” More-questionable praise for one who gave his all in a game is that he “sold out” for his team. Benedict Arnold’s descendants might take heart from that one.

   Setting goals is another subject that’s usually addressed circuitously. Asked how he’d like to perform an athlete will shy from the grandiose—“I want to play great and win!”—and focus on something more easily obtainable, like “I want to be consistent” or “I just want to stay within myself.” The retort to the latter—“Where else are you going to go?” always remains unsaid.

Ego concealment is rampant, never more so than when money is involved. A jock who jumps one team for a better deal with another will pooh-pooh the money angle, saying “All I want is a ring”—the bauble members of championship teams receive. Once the guy gets his ring he might complain it had too few diamonds, but that’s another matter. One good thing about the nine-figure contracts top players are getting these days is that we no longer have to hear their nonsense about “feeding their families.”

Journalists contribute to the blather glut by passing it along mindlessly. Print beat writers—who qualify as reporters—might plead that they are fulfilling their duty to objectivity by relaying what the combatants have to say, but TV commentators and print columnists, who are licensed to speak in their own voices, have no such excuse. Ditto bloggers, who answer to no one. As a TV watcher I turn on a mental mute when most jocks speak, and as a reader I skim past just about anything in quotes. We’d all be better off if journalists use their eyes (and brains) more and their ears less.