I may have played this card before, at least a card of the same suit, but sports are very much a relative endeavor. And I use that term in its philosophical sense, not its West Virginia sense. Baseball, basketball... the arbitrariness with which they are governed is quite evident.
For example, in a baseball game, the strike zone is the most relative, un-objective ruling in sports. It depends on batter size, where the catcher sits, how the pitcher is pitching and any other atrocious calls made during the same game. It's relative within the game it's playing for sure, but it's still relative. Basketball: also relative in it's regulation. For example, a ref might be working for the mob and need to call a foul so he makes money. In Football, the decision to call holding? Pass interference?
Sports are very indicative of our post-modern culture. I know I made a rather broad jump there, from baseball to some rogue French philosophers, but I believe it was right. Oversimplified? Most definitely.
Then there's golf. A game, I believe, that co-mingles relativity and absolutes. A game much more at home in the post-modern view I tend to have (read: I don't believe it's all relative). Without getting Bagger Vance on you, hear me out. Golf has a set of rules laid forth. Standards. Absolutes, if you will. But it's up to the golfer to play by those rules. To govern himself on the course. Unplayable lie? That's your call. Hit a putt you considered a gimmie but missed it because you didn't go through the routine and decide that if you did go through the routine you would have hit it so you don't count the stroke? Your call again. Casual water? Mulligans? It's left up to you to govern yourself according to those absolutes. Sure, there are times where you are completely in the right to make a call in your favor, one that you wouldn't make "only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law."
Kant would have been a terrible golfer. John Stuart Mill, more of a team sports kind of guy. Aristotle seems like he would have been good on one hole, and terrible on the next. Satre and Foucault, seven shots per hole would go down as a one on the scorecard. Jesus, well, I'm going with a par golfer. Remember, he would play the course perfectly. Avoid bunkers and other hazards. One putt every green. Playing a course perfectly doesn't mean aces on every hole (even though that's how the Jesus/Golf jokes go). I think we misunderstand perfection sometimes. It means, I think, doing exactly what you should do. Not doing something completely unattainable. For example, in baseball a perfect game is not a 27 pitch, 27 out task. Or 27 strikeouts on 81 pitches. It's doing exactly what you should do, not letting the other team get a hit or get on base.
Back to golf. I realize in golf, the professionals anyway, can get rulings. Appealing to someone else for a more "objective" and "absolute" decision on how to play the game. But for the most part, on municipal, private and public courses around the world, golf is played out with the individual as judge and jury.
Imagine, if in life, you could ask for "rulings"? You get more change back than you should have and you ask the official to determine whether or not you should give the money back? Or need to lie -- get a ruling. It might work in your favor or it might not, it might be an unplayable lie and you'll need to take the penalty.
Remember, there's always a penalty for truth. For playing by the rules.
Friday, July 27, 2007
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2 comments:
John Calvin on golf - 'I don't need to hit it straight, it's going to go in the hole anyway.'
Armenius on golf. 'Can I take another Mulligan?'
John Wesley on golf - 'It's all in your method of play.'
Wlliam Booth on golf - 'A hole in one on the par six, eighth? Do more!
Martin Luther on golf - 'This game is tough, I thought my 95 rules were challenging.'
John Fox on golf - 'On the back nine, the ever faithful Portico surrended his life to the deadly pits.'
This is what I was attempting. You have done a much better job. Calvin was my favorite. Booth was clever too.
Noticeably absent: St. Thomas Aquinas. Seems he'd be more like a Butch Harmon though. The swing and game analyzer. Not really a player.
As for the Baptists, they get a par or birdie once and they could cheat on every other hole and it wouldn't matter.
You know the saying, "I can't by a birdie today"? Catholics sure can.
And as for the Mormons, they're the people who play multiple balls at once on a hole.
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