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Should sporting heroes be good people?

by Simon Longstaff

I recently tuned into a conversation about Shane Warne’s triumphant retirement from test cricket. All seemed to be going well as people waxed lyrical about ‘Warnie’s’ mastery of the game. Then someone lobbed in to the mix what they hoped would be the equivalent of the famous ‘Gatting Ball’ by observing that although S. K. Warne is, without doubt, a marvellous sportsman, he may not be a particularly great person.  The reaction to this comment was immediate. Most people shot back – “So what? What’s Warnie’s character got to do with cricket?”

It’s a good question. Elite sportspeople possess superb physical attributes that are one of those lucky accidents of personal history. However, the preconditions for developing those core attributes into match-winning skills are perseverance, courage and commitment. So, at one level, character matters.

Furthermore, in most sports, players and spectators seem genuinely to care about the spirit of how the game is played. Of course, there is a desire to win – but not at any cost. Against this rather rosy picture, a growing number of people question the effect of turning sports into ‘just another business’ and elite players into ‘commodities’ – able to be traded and paraded wherever there is a dollar to be earned.

It is a confusing picture. Sport is entertaining. However, for many, its contests represent something more than ‘mere entertainment’. At its best, sport provides examples of personal courage, self-sacrifice and nobility of character. Physical skill might excite wonder but not deep admiration. Sport’s best moments occur when personal characters are tested – and not just their bodies. It is the ethical dimension of sport, what it can demonstrate about the strength and frailty of human being, which gives the whole enterprise genuine substance.

It is against this background that a number of sporting stars find themselves involuntarily held up as role models for a wider society. Those elevated to this status might not like the fact that the public expects more of them than physical skill – but if less was expected, then sport would soon become irrelevant. But when it comes to the unwilling occupants of pedestals, our expectations should be tempered by the fact that they have done nothing to invite such status.

The situation is quite different in cases where players take advantage of our idealised vision of sport and their elite positions by accepting lucrative sponsorships. In these cases, sporting stars need to understand that who they are matters as much as what they do. This is especially so when a sporting celebrity is held up as a role model for younger people – who probably don’t make sophisticated distinctions between what occurs when competing in the public eye and when acting in a purely private capacity. This is not to suggest that role models (of any kind) forfeit their right to privacy. However, when character is an issue, any hint of hypocrisy can be damaging.

I recall attending a meeting at which the Italian writer and academic Umberto Eco sought to distinguish the classical age from our own by observing that the pre-modern world was populated by ‘heroes’, and ours by ‘celebrities’. The difference between the two types, argued Eco, was that while heroes had depth, celebrities are just glittering ‘surfaces’. This is the world in which the conversation about Shane Warne’s character is placed.

But perhaps it is worth recalling that there was a time when a question as to whether or not ‘Warnie’ is a ‘good’ man would not have been thought odd, silly or inappropriate. In the past, popular evaluation of a person would have been based on assessment of the person as a whole – and not on just one aspect of their identity.

The commercial entities who look to secure sporting celebrities to endorse their products show selective interest in wider issues of character – their care seems to be limited to matters of ‘reputation management’. Yet they have great sway over the market place in which the commodification of sporting prowess is pursued.  Or so it seems.

But the power may lie elsewhere – with us – for we are ‘the market’ that businesses would shape to their advantage. So, it’s up to us to decide whether or not it matters that games be won or lost with honour. It’s up to us to decide whether or not moral courage is a virtue worthy of respect. It’s up to us to decide whether sport, such as cricket, is best played by good people and not just by great players.

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