Hey, here’s sports on a Grecian urn . . .
Terracotta Panathenaic prize amphora – footrace (Attributed to the Euphiletos Painter; Archaic Period, ca. 530 BCE). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY.
Now that we’re in a sporting frame of mind, Let’s Review...
Looking at this vase, one might wonder: “what’s the story?” And, not being an art historian, my first reaction would be an honest “beats me.”
But, as a sociologist, I know there are some ideas I can draw on to keep the conversation alive—at least for a few more paragraphs.
For instance, I can say that sports appear to have been a thing way back when—although, you probably already knew that, having watched Gladiator.
Photo: DreamWorks Pictures
Or, employing a bit more intellectual energy, we could invoke Peter Donnelly, who, in 2008, asserted that the way we see sports depends on the time in which we live.
Well, actually . . . that is my take-away from what he said.
What he REALLY wrote was that there have been three distinct waves of theorization regarding the sociology of sport.1 Donnelly didn’t, but we might dub them “The Three Rs,” because they, felicitously, go by the monikers “Reflection,” “Reproduction,” and “Resistance.”
Unlike me, Donnelly wasn’t averse to delving into history (although, to get technical about it, he strayed over the center line into what is opaquely called “sociology of knowledge”—which basically means that ideas tend to circulate within (and then in relation / reaction / response to) various groups (often residing in particular places, at particular times).
His version of this concept maintains that distinctive “thought styles”2 pertaining to sport and society operated in different historical periods, with differing effect. In his account, each R dominated the consciousness of social analysts during particular eras (and was less prevalent in others).
For our purposes this matters because it provides us with another set of tools to try and decipher what in actual #&$! is going on under the surface of sporting phenomena. Tools that can help the curious shed better light on the nature of thought and organization out in society at large.
For those who like analogies, it’s kind of like a mystery we are tasked with solving — making us armchair sociologists akin to amateur sleuths. (Hey, where’s my Deerstalker, trench coat and magnifying glass when I need them?).
But, to be clear: what we are primarily doing is appropriating an interesting analytic approach and wielding it for edification, if not low-key amusement. Just as, in later rounds, we might borrow concepts like “Frame” or “narrative” for illuminatory advantage.
But first things first. In order to use Donnelly’s formulation, we first have to understand it.
On his version, in the years prior to 1970, sports were perceived as a societal mirror. They provided a simple, straight-forward Reflection of social relations to those who attended to them. Society was what sports showed us.
There’s a race. Everyone tries their best. A bunch of folks end up in some order. Someone comes in first, second, third, fourth and last.
It is what it says it was.
The 1970s, by contrast, presented sports as performing an active role in societal organization, activity and outcome. Society was made (in part) by how sports did stuff.
There’s a race. Everyone lines up—on your marks; get set; one-two-three—GO!
But why are they running? How did they get chosen to race? Where are they competing? Are there fans in the stands? If so, who are they rooting for, and why? What will the reward be for finishing? What conversations will then be had after the finish line is crossed? How might future races and fortunes be affected?
It is how it was designed.
In this framing, there is a lot that is unseen and taken for granted. Certain groups were empowered by sports, while others were undermined or suppressed. Not only were certain social relations reinforced by sport, but so, too, particular values and behaviors were valorized; all is created anew with each play, event, quote, contract and such. Importantly, other values, practices and groups were ignored, derogated, treated unequally or obstructed—by design. In this way, (and often unbeknownst to most), sport had a way of playing favorites—of literally picking winners and designating losers (both on and off the pitch), as well as determining all the peripheral stuff that attended the event—even before the race was run.
By this account, sports were Reproducers of the prevailing social arrangements, arbiters of social discourse, and influencers of existing social relations.
Finally, from the mid-1980s onward, sports theorization emphasized Resistance. Building on that recognition that there is a lot that is unseen or ignored, a new group of thinkers argued that the sport/society nexus should be seen as a “site of struggle;” “contested terrain” where divergent groups and competing interests waged battle for recognition and supremacy—using sport as the communicatory vehicle (medium or “text”). Such an analytic position coincided with, and was influenced by, the rise of cultural and interpretive approaches to society, drawing on a preference to see conflict, to speak in the vernacular of power, and attend to differences between “classes.”
In a word: there’s a race and whoever manages to qualify will try their best, no doubt. But, that guy in Lane 3 had a team of enablers—coaches, trainers, nutritionists, a family who took care of the bills while he trained, special equipment that helped build strength and burst and endurance—while other racers didn’t have any of that. In that way, the race was fixed from the start in favor of one or other participant, leaving the rest at a disadvantage. Who wins and loses may be what the urn shows us, but it isn’t the full story. But more: because we know and acknowledge this fact, we might have some recourse in rectifying the imbalance. Social conditions could be re-conceived.
It depends who you ask, what is, might have been and could become.
So, those are Donnelly’s Three Rs. But this isn’t the end of our conversation.
For one, a wiseass like me might want to declare: “Hey Donnelly: thanks for the hypothesis. But what if each of the Three Rs weren’t simply products of historical moments, but rather solutions to a puzzle that could be invoked regardless of historical era?”
You know: like “hey, there’s polio. Have I got a drug for that!” — some solutions, obviously, being more apt (and even more scientific, legitimate, effective) than others.
And (not completely unrelated), there’s the fact that sociology is probably not a science the way epidemiology is a science, and so, whatever solutions we come up with might simply be the result of how the analyst tends to look at the world—based on her background, experience, beliefs, attachments (and such).
And further (and also not completely unrelated), there’s the fact that sociology is a field comprised of folks who tend to believe they’re smarter and have something more valuable to say than the person occupying the job they’d like. Which means that our glorious oasis is suddenly teeming with a host of rival ideas about how to interpret worldly stuff—in this case, sporting activity. Amongst the most prominent being: Feminist theory, the Figurational approach, Field theory, and Post-structuralism.
Relax . . . for this particular exercise, all of that heady stuff is TMI, too fast, too far-flung; so, let’s save some of those tools for another rainy day.
Instead, in Round 2, let’s content ourselves with moving on from the urn and working with The Three Rs.
Why? Because (on my version) it turns out to be a convenient way to place the given sporting activity in the context of social organization, practices, values and/or relations.3
Now for the next question . . . why bother? As in: for what purpose?
Well, to help us better identify (parse and chart) the institutions, parties, interests, positions, values and outcomes of a given sport-moment. You know: to shed light, to uncover, reveal, gain greater understanding, become better attuned and informed.
Which brings us to applications.
To that end, here’s an exercise, you might care to try yourself . . .
Let’s begin with some visual aids:
Photo credits: left: AP Photo/File; Bettmann Archive, Getty Images; Center: Uncredited; Business Insider, (https//:www.businessinsider.com, Jul 6, 2021); Right: Robert Beck, Sports Illustrated; Getty Images.
Looking at the following photographs, which of the “Three Rs” might best help us make sense of the moment?
Reflection?
Reproduction?
Resistance?
Oh, you say that a little context might be appreciated? Perhaps you may not be completely familiar with the world’s vast sporting past.
Fair enough. It is often true that context can prove beneficial in the interpretation of human events.
For instance, I wonder whether it changes which R you select if you knew that Photograph 1 captures the moment Jesse Owens was awarded the gold medal for long jump in the 1936 Berlin Olympics—the games that Adolf Hitler had hoped would serve as both demonstration (and propaganda) declaring the superiority of “the Aryan race”?4
Studying the photo, one might note the German competitor—who placed second—offers a reproductive gesture to his Fuhrer. Or we might regard Owens’ position atop the podium engaging in another reproductive act—saluting the stars and stripes.
Or . . . wait a minute . . . was Owens’ patriotic display intended, instead, as a challenge to (resistance of) the Nazi narrative?
Or hold up . . . could one assert that the photo reflects a divided moment in the global order—where two ideologically oppositional nations were pitted against one another, in both literal and figurative competition. This podium moment, then, mirroring the larger struggle for national recognition, supremacy and popular favor.
At this point, it’s anyone’s story to tell, depending on the tool they choose to employ.
Turning to Photo 3, it might be valuable to know that this image was snapped seconds after Brandi Chastain netted the winning penalty in the 1999 FIFA World Cup Final. More, that at that time in human history, it was generally considered indecorous for female athletes to strip off their jersey and expose their sports bra.
Even knowing that, is it possible that this photograph is a simple Reflection of jubilation?—the ecstasy that accompanies any sporting achievement. Or, might it be deeper than that? A Reproductive representation—because a women’s sporting event was being presented on a public stage, on its own, spotlighting significant athletic success. If so, then women’s athletics—and derivatively, women, themselves—were being legitimized as worthy objects of attention, interest, scrutiny and athletic entertainment . . . no different than men’s sports had been for millennia.
There is also a third possibility, though.
Might this moment fit the Resistance narrative? Because in “decent” society “good girls don’t (bare their bodies).”
Chastain, herself, denies any intention behind the act—copping to spontaneity.5
“I had no idea that would be my reaction—it was truly genuine and it was insane and it was a relief and it was joy and it was gratitude all wrapped into one.”
“There's something primal about sport that doesn't exist anywhere else—when you have a moment like scoring a winning goal in the World Cup championship, you are allowed to release this feeling, this emotion, this response that is not elicited anywhere else.”
And that very well all could be. An exceptional moment, enabling a unique response. An athlete unbound; freed of all structure, convention, regulation.
For the sociologist, though, it is the reaction to this unmeditated act that is equally interesting (hey: a Fourth R!). The collective finger-wagging, the tongue clucking, the idea that sports abide by “unwritten rules”—but more: that those rules arrive from beyond the pitch and (big surprise?) apparently are also gendered.
And we know this because after the match came the condemnation—swift and shrill—for defying prevailing norms of behavior. Chastain’s deviant jersey twirl—whether intentional or not—was interpreted as a repudiation of extant values. “Resistance” by any other name. And, as if to offer proof through inversion, the raucous fallout reflected established positions on gender.
Beyond this, and importantly, by departing from conventional practices, Chastain’s public display served as a disruptive act. Not only to prurient sensibilities, but to the continued silent reproduction of the way in which women were expected to behave in sporting (or, frankly, most) social contexts.
Pretty significant stuff, then, no matter which R we adopt.
As for middle photograph—while I don’t know the identity of the young sports fan, that isn’t the pertinent data-point here. To my eye, it is his position as “everyboy” or “any young fan” that seems most relevant. There is, in his ardor, an embrace of the act unfolding before him. His affirmation is not only an endorsement; it is reproductive of the practice of violence in sports. He has internalized it as a form of pleasure; he receives it with the satisfaction that some feel watching a George Carlin routine or listening to a Bach invention; he may share the moment with friends at school the next day, and anticipate witnessing a similar dust-up the next time he goes to a game.
Beyond the boy, a keen analyst might aver that such a skirmish goes well beyond sport—reflecting (that particular) society’s view of violence, itself.
And now for some pushback.
Norbert Elias—the author of the Figurational approach I earlier declared we wouldn’t delve into (!)—has proposed an historical arc in Europe (and more broadly, “the West”), which he labeled “the civilizing process.” On this account, prevailing standards “regarding violence, sexual behaviour, bodily functions, table manners and forms of speech were gradually transformed by increasing thresholds of shame and repugnance”6 to the point that society became increasingly sanitized; more dignified, less coarse.
Interesting. (I wonder if you agree?)
As for me . . . I kinda can’t. For on our beat (the sport sociological realm), Elias’s premise can produce a head-scratch or two—as it doesn’t fully fit with the available data (cue the boy leering at the fisticuffs unfolding before him).
A kinder way of saying this is: “behold contradictory social forces . . . what are we to make of them?”
On the one hand, per Elias’ claim, today we often encounter society seeking to resist prior standards regarding sporting violence—by moving to diminish or fully remove it from contemporary sport. There are good reasons for this—ranging from liability to increasing fan appeal. And yet, on the other hand, in the United States in particular, sport-related violence not only persists, it is a feature. Tolerated, condoned, expected, enjoyed. Hockey being one example; but also American football, boxing, mixed martial arts, face-slapping (no, I’m not going to link it, you can Google a clip yourself) and Ultimate Tak Ball.
In short, a slew of sports sufficient to send social analysts into interminable hand-wringing about a culture of violence being reproduced via observation, repetition—even outright encouragement—in our news, movies, talk shows, politics, gun clubs, everyday lives (and, yes, sports). One might contend an orgy of violence, inundating us 24-7; inculcated us into its dark logic, via a glut of willing sources.
Wow—what a depressing note to end on.
On the positive side of the ledger: there we are—the Three Rs. Another set of strategies for thinking about, analyzing and discussing sports-related phenomena.
Why not try it yourself on the sport or sporting situation of your choosing. If you do, you can refer to this basic checklist . . .
Reflection?
What values are being mirrored?
What behaviors are expected?
How do reactions (by social others) align with the prevailing social structure?
Reproduction?
Of what values or practices?
With what benefit or cost (and to whom)?
Resistance?
By who?
To what?
With what response?
Again, by who?
On what grounds?
With what effect?
Once you’ve got the basics down—what each of the Three Rs are, how they can be applied, how they can be employed for explanatory advantage—then you will find it a snap to suss out the dynamics of any given sport moment.
Not to say that you will be “right,” per se; but at least you will have a perspective to offer and a conversation to be had.
If you think of one, why not drop it in the Comments below. I look forward to the exchange that might ensue.
Oh, and if you haven’t yet subscribed, now would be a grand time to do so.
Until the next Review . . .
Citation: Donnelly, Peter (2008). “Sport and Social Theory,” in Barrie Houlihan (ed.), Sport and Society: A Student Introduction. London: Sage, 2nd Edition, pp. 11-32.
And, yes, to answer the next question: we could also employ the three theoretical perspectives addressed in Round 1, to this process, as well. Functionalism, Conflict and Symbolic Interaction might also prove useful in the ensuing analysis—if you are have the energy and are so inclined.
Rick Shenkman argues that, far from debasing Hitler’s racial politics, the fact that Germany garnered more medals than any other nation allowed him to argue that his Aryan superiority narrative was legitimated. See: R. Shenkman, “Adolf Hitler, Jesse Owens and the Olympics Myth of 1936,” (https://historynewsnetwork.org/article/571).
Alison Gee, “Why Women's World Cup champion Brandi Chastain bared her bra,” BBC World Service, 13 July 2014. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-27189681
Elias two-volume work on The Civilizing Process is briefly summarized here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Civilizing_Process.