Thinking Out LoudThe football (sorry, soccer) World Cup has captured the world’s attention. Nail-biting finishes. National pride. And perhaps most importantly, a host of armchair amateurs (like me) who – every four years – become vocal sideline analysts.
A staggering six billion people are expected to watch this World Cup. That’s more than watched the first moon landing, the last Summer Olympics, and the NFL Superbowl, combined. And yet many swept up in the hype – including me – are not particularly fanatical about soccer. Perhaps it’s because such events speak to deeper human appetites: something for which to gather, and something with which to identify.
Running around after a ball is an easy thing to trivialise. But in the Bible, the presence of children playing in the streets is a key marker of a flourishing civilisation. Modern science agrees. In her book Playing with Reality, neuroscientist Kelly Clancy contends that sports and games are “our neurological reward systems, tickling themselves”.
Maybe that’s because there often seem to be higher purposes than the scoreboard for which to play.
After Australia’s heart-breaking penalty shoot-out loss to Egypt, Egyptian captain and star striker Mo Salah didn’t immediately run to his teammates to celebrate. He stopped. He put his arms around a few of our Socceroos, shook their hands, and commiserated with them. Before the tournament, Argentine star Valen Scarsini urged his huge fanbase to follow Tim Payne (New Zealand defender and arguably the least known player in the world) on Instagram, in order to boost Payne’s fame and prospects.
Sport can offer channels for connection, empathy, and meaning – bringing us together, firing us up, and generating shared joy and sorrow. Our fields of play can be portals to a richer version of being human – something we can tap into long after the final whistle blows.
This Thinking Out Loud was first published on Facebook.
Image: Bryan Berlin/CC BY-SA 4.0