I am filing this column from Bloomington, Indiana, having spent
the weekend in Chicago and just driven down to this southern
Indiana town through some of the most fertile farm land in the
world. The Indiana farmland between Chicago and southern Indiana is
flat and at this time of year mostly black. Farmers are preparing
the soil for the corn and other crops that will be planted shortly;
but for now this means that one sees flat black earth all the way
to the horizon, the view only broken by a few forlorn but sturdy
farm houses and barns. New Yorkers probably do not think of the
Midwestern farmlands very often, though they have always been one
of the great economic strengths of our country.
Chicago is still properly called our Second City. It is, indeed,
reminiscent of New York. The skyscrapers at the foot of the vast
Lake Michigan are reminiscent of New York. The ethnic neighborhoods
bring to mind the ethnic neighborhoods of New York, and the energy
too brings back memories of New York. Like New York, Chicago is a
tough city. Years ago I remember dropping George Will off at
Chicago’s O’Hare Airport where we had a couple of beers while he
waited for his plane to take him to Washington. George looked out
at the burly men around the bar and said, “I like Chicago. It’s a
man’s town.” Well, it is a tough town.
While in Chicago I found myself on the handball court with three
Chicagoans in a rough doubles match. My partner happened to be a
former pro player, and in fact a member of the Handball Hall of
Fame, Dennis Hofflander. Our opponents were very good amateurs;
both well into middle age, but believe me very strong and fast.
Hofflander’s play is worth noting if only to allow me to make a
universal point about sports that is dear to my heart, to wit, the
pros in any sport are a world apart from the rest of us.
It always amazes me to sit at a sporting event and hear members
of the audience shout objurgations at a pro player who has just
dropped a ball or made some other error. Does the sports fan have
any idea how superior the most mediocre pro player is to the rest
of us? On the handball court with this former pro, who in the 1960s
was ranked at the top of national handball until he shipped off to
Vietnam, I had the opportunity to see precisely how exceptional
such an athlete is. Looking over my shoulder as the ball dropped
into his range I saw that he took two steps to attack the ball
where lesser players would be forced to take several very
inefficient steps. His eyes fastened on the ball like laser rays,
and when he hit it the ball went anyplace he wanted it to go at
almost any speed. No normal player could compete with him.
Bearing in mind the company I am keeping here in Bloomington, I
suppose I might revise my observations to say that even in amateur
sport those at the top are “a world apart from the rest of us.” I
am visiting with two former Olympians from the 1960s, swimmers who
dominated their events. One, Alan Somers, was America’s premier
distance swimmer in his day and a gold medalist on a relay team in
the 1960 Olympics. The other, Kevin Berry, was the world record
holder in the butterfly and a gold medalist for Australia in the
1964 Olympics. I swam with them both and again suffered the same
experience I suffered with Hofflander on the handball court. No
matter how hard I might try I could never compete with them. An
Olympian or a pro is far beyond the reach of the rest of us.
Of course, today there really is no distinction between amateur
and professional athletics. Though in the 1960s Berry and Somers
would be barred from Olympic competition for as much as accepting a
free swim suit, today’s top international swimmers make hundreds of
thousands of dollars from product endorsements. Ian Thorpe, the
great Australian swimmer, may make as much as $10 million from
endorsements. That would be $10 million more than Berry ever
earned.
Years ago fans of amateur sport feared that money would pollute
sport in some way. I doubt that it has today. Athletes, whether in
the Olympics or the National Basketball Association, still must
train hard and play by the rules. To win they have to compete to
the utmost against competition that is tremendously competitive.
That brings to mind another universal point dear to my heart.
Competition in an athletic event is a brush with the truth. There
is the winner and the loser, and usually the winner deserves to
win. If I told you I was a better athlete than Hofflander, Berry,
or Somers. I would be an obvious liar, which might make me an
excellent candidate for high public office.
