2008 Woodie Awards
Federer: Ripping peoples' hearts out in straight sets
Peter Locke
Issue date: 1/31/07 Section: Sports
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An old sports cliché-and an effective one at that-is the David vs. Goliath theme. The 1980 USA Men's Ice Hockey team used it, just to name one, and the same idea is embedded in the emerging sports cliché of the "nobody believed in us" post-game interview. Perhaps more interesting than all the Davids beating their chest about a lack of respect, are the Goliaths themselves. Because that for every Goliath, there are a thousand Davids. That's just the way it has to be. If you have a 30 team league, you can't have 15 juggernauts. And so by necessity, very rarely in sports do we see a true Goliath, a team or athlete that makes you wonder if they could ever be beat. The 1997 Bulls were like this, Lance Armstrong dominated like that, the '85 Bears had it, Larry Bird had a dose of it, the Canadiens of the 50's and 70's had this mystique, and much as it pains me to put this into writing, the Yankees of the late 90's had this going too. Some teams are just a sure thing. Infallible Goliaths.
If the appeal of sports comes in part from its uncertainty-the notion that the game's not played on paper-then what makes the Goliath thing so interesting? Well, for one, it's rarity. Everyone and their mother complains about not getting enough respect, and nobody picking this or that team to win. That's fine. It's great motivation and I'm sure a good coach will make it "bulletin board material." But when you finally have that respect, what's there to motivate you anymore? There's another sports cliché in there, and it's the idea that as hard as it is to get on top, it's even harder to stay there. That's why there aren't many Goliaths. Interestingly enough, major team sports are completely devoid of a single Goliath right now. A Goliath is identified in part by their record and whether or not they win championships, but the more important ingredient is the feeling you get while you watch them. Following the Bulls in Jordan's 5th leg of his 6 championships, I felt totally safe. Nothing short of God himself could have stopped that team. I didn't know that Jordan was going to leave it to Steve Kerr to twist the knife in, but I knew they couldn't lose. 72-10? Just. Not. Happening. Today, the only two teams from major pro sports you can make a case for are the Suns and the Pats, and neither of them really work. The Suns haven't won a championship yet, and you still can't convince me that that style of play will bear fruit in a brutal Western Conference during the playoffs. The Pats, although approaching dynastic levels, don't fit the mold either. On some level you realize their brilliance, but you don't get that same Joe Montana to Jerry Rice unstoppable feel with them. They always seem…well…vulnerable. Not Goliath material.
If the appeal of sports comes in part from its uncertainty-the notion that the game's not played on paper-then what makes the Goliath thing so interesting? Well, for one, it's rarity. Everyone and their mother complains about not getting enough respect, and nobody picking this or that team to win. That's fine. It's great motivation and I'm sure a good coach will make it "bulletin board material." But when you finally have that respect, what's there to motivate you anymore? There's another sports cliché in there, and it's the idea that as hard as it is to get on top, it's even harder to stay there. That's why there aren't many Goliaths. Interestingly enough, major team sports are completely devoid of a single Goliath right now. A Goliath is identified in part by their record and whether or not they win championships, but the more important ingredient is the feeling you get while you watch them. Following the Bulls in Jordan's 5th leg of his 6 championships, I felt totally safe. Nothing short of God himself could have stopped that team. I didn't know that Jordan was going to leave it to Steve Kerr to twist the knife in, but I knew they couldn't lose. 72-10? Just. Not. Happening. Today, the only two teams from major pro sports you can make a case for are the Suns and the Pats, and neither of them really work. The Suns haven't won a championship yet, and you still can't convince me that that style of play will bear fruit in a brutal Western Conference during the playoffs. The Pats, although approaching dynastic levels, don't fit the mold either. On some level you realize their brilliance, but you don't get that same Joe Montana to Jerry Rice unstoppable feel with them. They always seem…well…vulnerable. Not Goliath material.
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