Last winter, while in my hometown of Bengaluru, India, I wandered into the Bangalore Football Stadium to catch a glimpse of a local football (soccer) game. Scattered across the only standing pavilion were about 30 old-timers, their eyes focused on the action. Whenever a commendable play was made, a wave of approval rang out among these onlookers – subtle applause, murmurs of appreciation and reserved compliments.
In larger sporting events, such reactions are often drowned out by partisan fandom, relentless marketing and the aftermath of a couple of beers. Yet, this quiet appreciation is universal – be it in a high school football stadium in Texas, a street basketball court in Brooklyn or a skate park in downtown San Francisco.
Significantly, it bears resemblance to the reverence shown to an artist – a singer hitting a difficult note, an actor delivering a powerful monologue or a dancer executing a challenging routine. While music, theatre and dance are firmly established as performing arts within the larger classification of the arts, sports are traditionally excluded.
C.L.R. James’ 1963 book, “Beyond a Boundary,” is considered one of the best books on sports ever written. James makes a compelling case for sports as an art form, a sentiment familiar to fans and athletes hopelessly given to the game. In it, he says, “Cricket [and by extension every sport] is an art, not a bastard or a poor relation, but a full member of the community,” asserting that sport is both a theatrical spectacle, akin to opera and ballet and a visual art, with characteristics adhering to the aesthetic theory of “significant form.”
While James dismantles the idea that sports is merely entertainment, he overlooks the argument that art is primarily concerned with expression, while sports is with competition.
I, too, believe competition is paramount to sports, making it better categorized under “games” than “performing arts.” However, the technical skills, tactical acumen and physical prowess displayed behind the veil of competition should not be ignored for their artistic qualities.
Within sporting circles, the parallels to art are frequently drawn. Famous examples include Joe Adams’ legendary punt return against the Tennessee Volunteers, described by broadcaster Gus Johnson with the words, “Boy, Houdini is in the house! Wearing No. 3! And nobody is there to watch that house!” Similarly, Ray Hudson, described Lionel Messi on the ball, as “a weaver with a loom! Like a bejeweled rapier! An artist! Picasso at work!” And even in autosports, journalist Murray Walker said of Ayrton Senna’s driving on rain-soaked tracks, “Senna paints his masterpieces at 200 mph, with a car instead of a brush.”
The Oxford English Dictionary defines art as “the use of the imagination to express ideas or feelings, particularly in painting, drawing or sculpture.” In sports, competition may take precedence, but expression is the runner-up, and there is certainly no lack of imagination.
As a collegiate athlete and a “sports tragic” who has spent countless hours watching games on television, I can confidently say most athletes find fulfillment, not just in winning, but in the aesthetics of their actions. As a soccer goalkeeper, I was sometimes accused by my coaches of prioritizing form over function, making a save look elegant rather than simply effective. I am obligated to refute this charge, but I will admit I took pride in a save that was not only successful, but also visually and emotionally stunning. This same artistic impulse drives a basketball player to go up for a bold, riskier dunk over the guarantee of a layup.
Coaches are notorious for sending players into battle with “Just go out there and express yourself.” Luckily for them, every seasoned athlete knows exactly what that means: turning the week’s daily practice and nightly visions into reality on game day. Is this not akin to a painter bringing a vision to canvas or a musician translating hours of practice into a live performance?
But good art is more than self-expression – it stirs deep emotion. A Shakespearean tragedy like “Hamlet” brings anguish, while the frescoed ceiling of the Sistine Chapel inspires awe. Modern pop concerts, like Taylor Swift’s, spark joy, tears and nostalgia, forging powerful shared experiences with the audience. In sports, the analogies are never-ending, with commentators reaching for phrases like “pure theatre,” “jaw-dropping,” “bittersweet,” “heartbreaking,” “poetry in motion” and so on, to convey the depths of the circumstances it creates. Nowhere is emotion more viscerally felt than in sports itself.
Beyond the intangibles, art always tells a story. In the 2011 Oscar-shortlisted French film “The Intouchables,” the protagonist Philippe, stares at an abstract artwork, asking, “Why are people interested in art?” Unsatisfied with the response, he answers, “It’s the trace of our passage on this earth.”
From the earliest cave paintings of Lascaux, depicting early human life and hunting, to Picasso’s “Guernica,” which exposes the atrocities of war, art has always chronicled human history. Even contemporary works like Banksy’s street art captures social and political commentary, reflecting the struggles and dynamics of modern society.
So too do sports mirror societal trends of their respective eras. Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier in 1947 was a harbinger of the Civil Rights Movement and the shift away from racial segregation. Billie Jean King’s 1973 “Battle of the Sexes” victory, following the passage of Title IX, marked a cultural shift toward gender equality in all walks of life. And in this day and age of social media domination – blamed for contributing to short attention spans – sports has responded by instituting changes to hasten games, such as the introduction of pitch clocks in baseball.
Regardless of whether these uncanny parallels are matters of cause, correlation or retrospective speculation, sports undeniably chronicles human history – our struggles, triumphs and trajectorial shifts.
While their primary undertakings may vary, the characteristics that define art are no less applicable to sports. They are both powerful mediums that offer a glimpse into the human experience, be it as a mode of expression, a source of exotic emotion or a tool for storytelling.
My argument started with James, and while I may have not satisfied him in the time since, I will attempt to compensate by restating his still-pertinent assertion: “We may someday be able to answer Tolstoy’s exasperated and exasperating question: What is art? – but only when we learn to integrate our vision of Walcott on the back foot through the covers with the outstretched arm of the Olympic Apollo.” (Clyde Walcott was a celebrated West Indian cricketer, while the Olympic Apollo is an ancient Greek statue representing classical artistic ideals.)
In other words, sports is better understood using art, but art can be better understood only when sports is not overlooked.
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