I wish athletes would let their performances speak for them. If you need to showboat, act out for an audience of one.
Habtom Samuel, a world-class runner, knows better. Even one announcer said, “Watch out!” as he observed Samuel “airplane” to the finish line in the NCAA D-1 cross country national championship last week.
Every coach I had during the late 1950s and early 1960s stressed fundamentals. In baseball, I was a good centerfielder with a strong arm. In wrestling, we repeated the few moves we knew until we had established “muscle memory.” In tennis, we were taught to rely on placement rather than power.
Call it basics or fundamentals, but we were coached not only how to play but also how to act. With that in mind, we guarded our actions and words. We were taught that “Every dog has its day,” which meant that everybody loses sometimes, so be a good loser as well as a good winner.
But things have changed. Athletes in all age groups now think nothing of showboating and strutting when a ball is caught, thrown through a basket, hit outside the legal playing field, and more. That type of behavior, as well as its cousin, trash talking, happens regularly, even in youth-league sports.
I think it’s perfectly fine for an athlete to be happy when he or she wins or at least performs well. That said, celebrating has gotten out of hand. For instance, runners should always run through the finish line or tape, as if it were five yards past the actual line. The reason is to avoid being passed a few steps from the finish line. Why? Celebrating too soon has cost runners a victory.
Samuels, who placed second last year in the same national race, knows that. Yet, ahead by just four seconds, he spread his arms as if they were wings and swerved to the finish line like an airplane landing. He then stood with his arms folded across his chest, legs spread, and hips thrust forward in what I can only describe as the latest in male posturing. All this from a runner who lost one shoe in last year’s race.
I wish athletes would let their performances speak for them. Act out for an audience of one.
