Sport is an enigma to me mainly because my recalcitrant body and I have never been compatible.
I did however watch the start of the Sydney Hobart Yacht Race in the hope of appreciating its appeal. It was indeed an experience. The sheer beauty and excitement of the event is undeniable.
The cameras oddly though fixated on one gigantic boat, Wild Oats 11, presumably named after youthful amorous exploits although it was unclear whether the 11 refers to their quantity or quality. I was enthralled as the huge yacht tacked, jostled and dived at every opportunity to forge ahead. She appeared on screen from almost every angle imaginable: the air, side on, behind, upside down, on deck, the head, stern and aft. All the while her overbearing captain relentlessly lambasted the entire nation, including the occasional obscenity when he apparently couldn’t see where he was heading. I felt I should be winching something!
I began to wonder if there were actually any other boats in the race. However occasional glimpses of Sydney Harbour showing an incomprehensible mishmash of sail and sea proved otherwise. Although there was an uncanny resemblance of the large ‘7’ on Wild Oat’s mainsail to the broadcaster’s logo. Such a narrow focus is surely self-defeating for a commercial station.
Where were the really interesting, fun, challenging and wonderful stories associated with such an extraordinary enterprise? Eighty boats each with their own story to tell. There were races within the race, characters with tales of escapade, experiences to share which for most of us, reek with curiosity and intrigue. All need to be told, shared and cherished. This is what the race is about, or should be.
I relish the day when we celebrate the antonym of winning. Blind adoration for winning achieved mainly by a bulging ego and unlimited wealth is a lifeless story devoid of human interest, passion or indeed anything of real importance. It is senseless but it may explain why sport remains for me such an enigma.
Dr Ian Broinowski, Battery Point
