Part 1: Metis or not metis?
I was trying to put my finger on the point of dispute about metis while on the shuttle this evening (as you do). Because in class I couldn't decide whether it was a terminology issue, something deeper, or something else entirely...
Here's what I came up with—and Dan can tell me if this is even close.
In class we were calling "metis" a certain configuration of circumstances where experience, skill, attentiveness and opportunity all come together in something we call "seizing the moment".
And I think the question Dan was raising was whether this was basically an effect produced when a certain "critical mass" of all the elements (experience, skill, opportunity etc.) was reached, rather than a new element in the mix, ie an active principle that caused moments to be seized.
This question in some ways goes back to situations in sport where we argue about the relative role of skill, or competence, and luck in a given contest: and this issue is particularly tricky when it comes to metis, because metis, as the ability to seize chances, is where skill and luck meet.
The other issue is what it means to be a "smart" player: is "intelligence" just another skill, like "a good arm", or is it the skill of using one's other skills (or any other means at one's disposal), in which case it seems to be a kind of "meta" ability ("meta" meaning "of a higher order"), like judgement, or... metis.
Pt 2: Yoga or not yoga?
When Detienne and Vernant were describing the Greek philosophical tradition as one with a strict separation between the "intelligible" realm of "being" and the "sensible" realm of "becoming", they mentioned in passing a contrast with other philosophical traditions, eg. Indian.
Now, all I know about the Indian philosophical tradition has come through doing yoga, so I am no authority, but from that I gather that the aim is to achieve a balance between opposing forces: you still have various oppositions between body/mind, being/becoming etc., but rather than these being separate realms, they are dynamic principles you are supposed to find some kind of harmonious balance of - a "synthesis" or "resolution" of opposites.
I bring this up because on the front page of the Sports section of today's New York Times is an article about baseball players taking up yoga and meditation to improve their game: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/12/sports/baseball/12pitcher.html?_r=1&ref=sports&oref=slogin
It's a very interesting article, particularly when thinking about what the "mental" aspect of the game is, eg. this snippet about Jason Hirsh: "Hirsh represents the flip side of the steroid controversy, a 6-foot-8 pitcher who has spent the past four off-seasons trying to build up his mind."
They suggest that this kind of training is especially unusual for baseballers—who have a reputation for being old-fashioned?—though they also suggest that baseballers are unusally superstitious and would "rub snake oil on their elbows" if they thought it might help their game... (But what's more "mental" than a placebo effect? And what's wrong with it if it helps?)
Monday, February 12, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
"Jocks" & "Nerds"
In class I mentioned my bad experiences with sport at high school - my absolute terror of sport - and tried to think through exactly what the anxiety was. The simple response is of course that I was bad at sport and hated being exposed as bad at sport and attracting the contempt of my classmates.
But the question gets pushed back a level: why was I bad at sport and what is it to be "bad at sport"? (nb. a lot of philosophy is simply the result of the application, and reapplication, of this whiny 5-year-old question: "But whyyyyy?")
At the time, I just took my "badness at sport", and the resulting social condemnation, as a given, as just the way things were. Looking back, I can see that this pessimistic attitude, this fear and loathing, was as much the cause of my badness of sport, and the disapproval of other players, as its effect. I was "bad at sport" mainly because I was a cloud of anxiety and negativity on the field - mainly because, in other words, all I did out there was think about myself.
And (reapplying the "but whyyyyyy?") I speculated in class that what made me so anxious was the particular risk-taking involved in sport compared to academic performance. In ordinary classes, I could "see" the right answer in my head and all I had to do was say it out loud, whereas in playing sport, even though you anticipate moves, they don't really exist until you act on them, you have to make a physical, public commitment that may or may not pay off. What I hated was the riskiness of the whole venture, the 'leap of faith' required, the lack of control. Even when you perform well physically, a playing field is essentially about being plunged into a set of variables you don't control, from both your own team and the opponent's. Or physical variables you can't control - like pain! (and if there was one thing I hated more than volleyball it was cross-country running - let's face it: I was a wimp!)
Of course, if your strength is in athletics rather than academics, then I can see how this dynamic could be reversed: some people just seem to "see" the ball, "see" the play, and it is as if they just translate into action something that's already worked out in their head, even though it's actually invented 'on the run'. And if you don't just "see" the answer in an academic context, then asking or answering a question is as public, risky, and anxiety-creating as catching a ball was for me.
There are lessons that I think apply across the board and are relevant to this class, given that we're trying to develop academic skills here.
Anyway, it's the Championship game tomorrow, which we didn't get a chance to talk about in class this week: as an outsider, I was a bit sensitive to the sentimental pull of the Saints, but everyone I've mentioned this too goes "Yeah... NAHHHH." So, like any good citizen of Chicago, I'll be backing the Bears .
But the question gets pushed back a level: why was I bad at sport and what is it to be "bad at sport"? (nb. a lot of philosophy is simply the result of the application, and reapplication, of this whiny 5-year-old question: "But whyyyyy?")
At the time, I just took my "badness at sport", and the resulting social condemnation, as a given, as just the way things were. Looking back, I can see that this pessimistic attitude, this fear and loathing, was as much the cause of my badness of sport, and the disapproval of other players, as its effect. I was "bad at sport" mainly because I was a cloud of anxiety and negativity on the field - mainly because, in other words, all I did out there was think about myself.
And (reapplying the "but whyyyyyy?") I speculated in class that what made me so anxious was the particular risk-taking involved in sport compared to academic performance. In ordinary classes, I could "see" the right answer in my head and all I had to do was say it out loud, whereas in playing sport, even though you anticipate moves, they don't really exist until you act on them, you have to make a physical, public commitment that may or may not pay off. What I hated was the riskiness of the whole venture, the 'leap of faith' required, the lack of control. Even when you perform well physically, a playing field is essentially about being plunged into a set of variables you don't control, from both your own team and the opponent's. Or physical variables you can't control - like pain! (and if there was one thing I hated more than volleyball it was cross-country running - let's face it: I was a wimp!)
Of course, if your strength is in athletics rather than academics, then I can see how this dynamic could be reversed: some people just seem to "see" the ball, "see" the play, and it is as if they just translate into action something that's already worked out in their head, even though it's actually invented 'on the run'. And if you don't just "see" the answer in an academic context, then asking or answering a question is as public, risky, and anxiety-creating as catching a ball was for me.
There are lessons that I think apply across the board and are relevant to this class, given that we're trying to develop academic skills here.
- Everyone has their "given" set of strengths and weaknesses from temperament, upbringing, training - the things that come easily, the things that don't come easily.
- Letting fear or uncertainty get on top of you is "losing the game before it's started".
- You have to practice to learn and get better.
Anyway, it's the Championship game tomorrow, which we didn't get a chance to talk about in class this week: as an outsider, I was a bit sensitive to the sentimental pull of the Saints, but everyone I've mentioned this too goes "Yeah... NAHHHH." So, like any good citizen of Chicago, I'll be backing the Bears .
Monday, January 15, 2007
CLR (Cyril Lionel Robert) James (1901-1989)
Our readings this week (and the week after next) are from CLR James' Beyond a Boundary, a work that some say is the greatest sports book (and not just the greatest cricket book) ever written. CLR James was born in the former British Caribbean (West Indian) colony of Trinidad and Tobago, and worked as a writer, sports journalist and public speaker and political agitator in the UK and the US, among other places.James gives an overview of his activities in the beginning of the reading - he was a Marxist, and agitated in particular for the political rights of Africans and people of African origins all over the world - a movement known as "Pan-Africanism". He conducted his lecture tours alongside Learie Constantine, a former West Indian cricketer.
And yet James does not reduce cricket or sport to simply being a symbol of social or political issues: he also thinks that we can't understand society, history and politics unless we understand sport. A lot of the book is about how he learned as much about people, life, politics etc. from sport and players as from studying Marx or talking with "comrades", and also about how his views on sport sometimes placed him at odds with his left-wing friends, who considered sport simply a way of distracting "the masses" from politics (as he mentions in the reading).
As a political historian, James is interested in what "moves" people ("what do men live by?"), what cultural forces have a defining impact on an era or are agents of change, and James not only believes that sport is a major factor in these respects, but denounces the way sport and sporting figures are systematically left out of accounts of historical periods and movements. This is all the more remarkable to James given that organized sports are not a feature of every society and historical period: it is in Ancient Greece and Victorian England that they come to prominence, so what was it about these periods that made sport a major feature of life?
Ancient Greece and 19th Century Britain are also periods when what is at the forefront politically is the development of democracy: the city-state democracies in Ancient Greece and the reform movements promoting and extending modern democracy in the 19th Century. James thinks that the new political impulse requires its own cultural form of expression. In Ancient Greece, however, sport is not an especially democratic activity: participation was mostly reserved for the elites. Theatre, on the other hand, was a highly popular form, and often presented in a competition form a bit like sporting events. In the 19th century however, the situation is reversed: theatre is becoming a more elite cultural form and sport is the popular form.
Why is sport linked to democracy? We have mentioned the way sport provides a focus for a community, and James saw how in the West Indies sport became a focus of popular awareness: contests between West Indian teams and English teams for example would "dramatise" colonial relations, and within the West Indies the organisation of teams and roles within teams also became infused with political meaning - many clubs were organised on racial lines and no African West Indian captained a West Indian team until Frank Worrell in 1960.
From my own experience, games between Australia and England in any sport always have as their background England's past role as "imperial master" and Australia's as "bunch of convicts": no competitor is more loathed than England, nowhere is the determination to win more ruthless. I'm sure there are analogies in American sporting life: famous ones are Jesse Owens at Hitler's 1936 Olympics and Tommie Smith and John Carlos performing the Black Power salute on the Olympic podium at the 1968 Olympic games.
In a couple of the readings we have looked at so far (Bronowski & Olds), the way sporting action forms a "mirror of the self" projected into the future has come up. In any action I guess we project an image of ourselves into future - project ourselves, full stop, into the future. Maybe this works on the level of the team with the spectator: the actions of the team all together form a projection of the community, a possible future.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Where I come from... (or: Cricket Explained)
Where I come from (Sydney, Australia), the major team sports are cricket, rugby (two forms: "rugby union" and "rugby league"), and a local form of football called Australian Rules. Soccer has always had a strong minority following, becoming more major since the last World Cup, and we also have a national basketball team. Australia has produced major tennis players and golfers and in athletics, we are renowned for our swimmers.
My own interest in sport started with cricket, which is still its main focus. Historically, cricket is very much associated with the legacy of the British Empire - all of the main cricket-playing nations are former English colonies - but it also has a life of its own as a world sport: its popularity in the subcontinental nations (India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh) make it a rival to soccer for this title. Apart from the countries mentioned, the major cricket-playing countries are the British colonies of the Carribean (who play collectively as the "West Indies"), South Africa and New Zealand.
Cricket was a good game for a beginner spectactor, since, like baseball, which is the most obvious point of comparison, there is a period time between each action taking place for explanations and the division of labour between the different positions on the field is very clear. Let me try in turn to Explain Cricket.
CRICKET?
Like baseball, cricket has innings in which one side is fielding and one side is batting. Rather than the "diamond" with "bases" at each corner, it is organised around a "pitch" with "creases" at either end: a 22 yards x 10 feet strip of rolled grass, laid (like the diamond) in the middle of an oval playing field.
There are always two batters (usually called "batsmen" - "batter" is considered an"Americanism" (!) - but I will use the more inclusive term) in at any given time, at either end of the pitch, and one bowler (the equivalent of baseball's pitcher) who delivers the ball in sets of 6 ("overs") from one end or the other.
The aim of the batter is to hit the ball away from the pitch (and the fielders) and to make "runs": each batter runs to the other end of the pitch, each length made successfully by both batters counts as one run to the score of the batting side. They have to stop running once the fielding side returns the ball to the pitch: at each end of the pitch is a "wicket" - three wooden poles ("stumps") stuck into the ground with two small wooden bars ("bails") sitting across them, and if the wicket is "broken" (the bails removed) by the ball (or by a player using the ball) while the batter is outside of their "crease", then they are out.
There are other ways of getting out, major ones are being "caught" - the batter hits the ball and it is caught by a fielder before touching the ground - and being "bowled" - the bowler's delivery itself breaks the wicket. Unlike baseball, there is no penalty against the batter for not hitting the ball, but hitting the ball is a) the only way to make runs (almost - long story) and b) one of the best ways the batter has of protecting their wicket - by hitting the ball away, the batter prevents the ball from hitting the wicket, even if the ball is not hit away far enough to make runs (this is called a "defensive shot").
"First class" cricket
In "first class" cricket, each team generally has two innings (ie two innings batting, two innings fielding). The batting innings of a team is automatically over once 10 batters are out (there are 11 on a team, but because there need to be two batters, the game is over when there is only one remaining). The winning team is the one with the most runs after all innings have been played.
Now for the shocking part: such a game may last UP TO FIVE DAYS (a day contains about 6 hours of play), and if all innings have not been got through in that time (ie if there are still at least two batters not out by the end of play), then the game is officially DRAWN, even if one team has made many more runs than the other.
There are ways of avoiding such a situation: the captain of a batting side with a lot of runs may "declare" his team's innings closed and so give himself more time (hopefully) to get the other side out - this is called "playing for a result", but of course runs the risk that the result will be a loss rather than a win. On the other side of the fence, if a batting team has no hope of making enough runs to win the match, they may try to "play for a draw", ie just focus on not getting out rather than making runs, and so avoid loss. (In the "olden days", there was no fixed time limit on the game - they went on for as long as it took to get a result, so you could have games that lasted 10, 11 days!).
First class cricket matches are often organised in "series" of 3 or 5 games, all of which are played even if one side has won the series (by winning the first 2 or 3 games) before the series is over.
"Limited over" cricket:
- "one-day" cricket, where each innings is set at 50 "overs" (50 sets of 6 balls), and each team only bats once, the winner being whoever has the most runs at the end of the day. The Cricket World Cup, held every four years, is a tournament of one-day games, as you can imagine the impracticalities of trying to hold a tournament between all the teams where each match can go up to 5 days.
- "20/20" cricket: where each innings is set at 20 overs, thus resulting in a game that can be held in a single evening/afternoon/morning.
In limited-over cricket, the focus is on getting the highest score possible within a limited time rather than avoiding getting out (as it doesn't matter how many batters have been dismissed as the end of the limited period), so batting is usually a lot more aggressive (and thus risky) than in first-class cricket.
Limited-over cricket is often frowned upon as a more "commercial" or "populist" form of the game, pandering to a modern decline in attention spans and rise of "mere" thrillseeking, and the demands of television programming. However, while it is true that the "institutionalisation" of one-day cricket on an international level is historically inseparable from the actions of Australian media magnate Kerry Packer in the late 70s and his commercial interests (another long story), the vast majority of cricket played recreationally throughout the world since its beginnings has been of a "limited-over" sort, or had some sort of other artificial restraint put on it to enable it to be played within a time-period compatible with work and other obligations. "First-class" cricket is thus more accurately described as the "high" rather than the "pure" form of the game.
The prejudice also seems to be to do with ideas derived from the notion that cricket is something played between members of the English nobility, or in the manner of such play. As an aristocratic pastime it therefore should be neither a commercial activity (noblemen do not have to make money) nor a spectacle for entertainment (noblemen do not play on stage).
There is a great deal that can be objected to here - from historical, theoretical and ideological points of view - that I won't get into. But this image of cricket (probably the most immediate one) as a polite game between gentlemen forms a perfect backdrop to what I must write about some time soon: the Ashes and Shane Warne.
Some other links on cricket:
- Explaining Cricket to Americans: another basic explanation of cricket using baseball as the point of reference
- An Explanation of Cricket: a much fuller account, but introductory-style language
- Midwest Cricket Conference: website of a local cricket competition
My own interest in sport started with cricket, which is still its main focus. Historically, cricket is very much associated with the legacy of the British Empire - all of the main cricket-playing nations are former English colonies - but it also has a life of its own as a world sport: its popularity in the subcontinental nations (India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh) make it a rival to soccer for this title. Apart from the countries mentioned, the major cricket-playing countries are the British colonies of the Carribean (who play collectively as the "West Indies"), South Africa and New Zealand.
Cricket was a good game for a beginner spectactor, since, like baseball, which is the most obvious point of comparison, there is a period time between each action taking place for explanations and the division of labour between the different positions on the field is very clear. Let me try in turn to Explain Cricket.
CRICKET?
Like baseball, cricket has innings in which one side is fielding and one side is batting. Rather than the "diamond" with "bases" at each corner, it is organised around a "pitch" with "creases" at either end: a 22 yards x 10 feet strip of rolled grass, laid (like the diamond) in the middle of an oval playing field.
There are always two batters (usually called "batsmen" - "batter" is considered an"Americanism" (!) - but I will use the more inclusive term) in at any given time, at either end of the pitch, and one bowler (the equivalent of baseball's pitcher) who delivers the ball in sets of 6 ("overs") from one end or the other.
The aim of the batter is to hit the ball away from the pitch (and the fielders) and to make "runs": each batter runs to the other end of the pitch, each length made successfully by both batters counts as one run to the score of the batting side. They have to stop running once the fielding side returns the ball to the pitch: at each end of the pitch is a "wicket" - three wooden poles ("stumps") stuck into the ground with two small wooden bars ("bails") sitting across them, and if the wicket is "broken" (the bails removed) by the ball (or by a player using the ball) while the batter is outside of their "crease", then they are out.
There are other ways of getting out, major ones are being "caught" - the batter hits the ball and it is caught by a fielder before touching the ground - and being "bowled" - the bowler's delivery itself breaks the wicket. Unlike baseball, there is no penalty against the batter for not hitting the ball, but hitting the ball is a) the only way to make runs (almost - long story) and b) one of the best ways the batter has of protecting their wicket - by hitting the ball away, the batter prevents the ball from hitting the wicket, even if the ball is not hit away far enough to make runs (this is called a "defensive shot").
"First class" cricket
In "first class" cricket, each team generally has two innings (ie two innings batting, two innings fielding). The batting innings of a team is automatically over once 10 batters are out (there are 11 on a team, but because there need to be two batters, the game is over when there is only one remaining). The winning team is the one with the most runs after all innings have been played.
Now for the shocking part: such a game may last UP TO FIVE DAYS (a day contains about 6 hours of play), and if all innings have not been got through in that time (ie if there are still at least two batters not out by the end of play), then the game is officially DRAWN, even if one team has made many more runs than the other.
There are ways of avoiding such a situation: the captain of a batting side with a lot of runs may "declare" his team's innings closed and so give himself more time (hopefully) to get the other side out - this is called "playing for a result", but of course runs the risk that the result will be a loss rather than a win. On the other side of the fence, if a batting team has no hope of making enough runs to win the match, they may try to "play for a draw", ie just focus on not getting out rather than making runs, and so avoid loss. (In the "olden days", there was no fixed time limit on the game - they went on for as long as it took to get a result, so you could have games that lasted 10, 11 days!).
First class cricket matches are often organised in "series" of 3 or 5 games, all of which are played even if one side has won the series (by winning the first 2 or 3 games) before the series is over.
"Limited over" cricket:
- "one-day" cricket, where each innings is set at 50 "overs" (50 sets of 6 balls), and each team only bats once, the winner being whoever has the most runs at the end of the day. The Cricket World Cup, held every four years, is a tournament of one-day games, as you can imagine the impracticalities of trying to hold a tournament between all the teams where each match can go up to 5 days.
- "20/20" cricket: where each innings is set at 20 overs, thus resulting in a game that can be held in a single evening/afternoon/morning.
In limited-over cricket, the focus is on getting the highest score possible within a limited time rather than avoiding getting out (as it doesn't matter how many batters have been dismissed as the end of the limited period), so batting is usually a lot more aggressive (and thus risky) than in first-class cricket.
Limited-over cricket is often frowned upon as a more "commercial" or "populist" form of the game, pandering to a modern decline in attention spans and rise of "mere" thrillseeking, and the demands of television programming. However, while it is true that the "institutionalisation" of one-day cricket on an international level is historically inseparable from the actions of Australian media magnate Kerry Packer in the late 70s and his commercial interests (another long story), the vast majority of cricket played recreationally throughout the world since its beginnings has been of a "limited-over" sort, or had some sort of other artificial restraint put on it to enable it to be played within a time-period compatible with work and other obligations. "First-class" cricket is thus more accurately described as the "high" rather than the "pure" form of the game.
The prejudice also seems to be to do with ideas derived from the notion that cricket is something played between members of the English nobility, or in the manner of such play. As an aristocratic pastime it therefore should be neither a commercial activity (noblemen do not have to make money) nor a spectacle for entertainment (noblemen do not play on stage).
There is a great deal that can be objected to here - from historical, theoretical and ideological points of view - that I won't get into. But this image of cricket (probably the most immediate one) as a polite game between gentlemen forms a perfect backdrop to what I must write about some time soon: the Ashes and Shane Warne.
Some other links on cricket:
- Explaining Cricket to Americans: another basic explanation of cricket using baseball as the point of reference
- An Explanation of Cricket: a much fuller account, but introductory-style language
- Midwest Cricket Conference: website of a local cricket competition
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
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