Taking sides

We constantly hear about different sports being tweaked or reimagined to appeal to wider audiences. Cricket seems to be constantly searching for something to make the sound of leather on willow more palatable to more people. F1 has been reasonably stable in recent years, but we had the introduction of Sprints in 2021 in an effort to add more appeal.

But there is only so much that organisers and promoters can do, because if sport is to be truly exciting, it requires some investment by those spectating. Not audience participation. There is no need to phone in or vote. But you do have to take sides. You need to be partisan in your appreciation if you really want to get the most from sport. Lewis or Max. You choose.

There will always be those who say they just want to see a good game or an interesting race. And that’s fine. You can of course garner enjoyment from witnessing a complicated action done with skill and ease. Seeing someone react with grace under pressure, to purloin a Hemingway phrase, is sublimely satisfying. Watching Ronnie O’Sullivan screw the cue ball back off the black to travel round three sides of the table and finish perfectly on the next red is baffling and brilliant. Seeing Elfyn Evans flighting his Toyota Yaris WRC with yaw over a crest in sixth gear so that he lands for a corner as yet unseen is something that remains with you.

Yet how much more do those actions hit home if you are rooting for the person performing? In fact, the same is true even if you are rooting for a rival. Now the actions don’t exist in isolation, they are set in a wider context that you care about. They edge you closer to or further from being able to celebrate the victory of your chosen side.

I’ve never been the biggest rugby fan. Mostly because it brings back memories of being flattened on a freezing field at school when I was unable to avoid being passed the odd-shaped ball. But I can appreciate the skill involved. The ability to catch a ball correctly, size up distance and drift, before allowing instinct to control the swing of your leg and angle of your foot in order to deliver the ball over the heads of charging opponents and through a set of uprights is impressive. But when you’re supporting England and that ball is caught by Jonny Wilkinson and the drop goal wins the World Cup, well, that is something that causes tables to be upended.

Which brings us back to Max and Lewis. Everyone agrees that 2021 was a season for the ages and that is indubitably down to the two main protagonists. The quality of the driving hasn’t been any more stellar than other years. At times it has probably been worse. But the driving has had much more meaning.

They are polarising characters, which helps as well. Sometimes it’s hard to choose which side to support, but when the choice is more stark it is somehow easier and the decision, once made, feels more final. The fact that, unlike the Rosberg/Hamilton tussle, there were two entirely different teams involved helped too. Less overlap makes for clearer battle lines and stronger emotions. And it’s the emotion we crave when we watch sport. That’s what makes it so deliciously addictive rather than just interesting.

Side selected, we then view events within the event through the prism of our own particular preference. The safety car should have come in. The safety car should have been left out. The pass was hard racing. The pass was reckless. Unfair. Fair. You can twist the narrative to suit. And we hope for the opinions of the (nominally) impartial to favour our chosen side. By the way, I really do admire the ability of commentators to park their own preferences in order to be a cool voice of reason in the heat of competition.

But as spectators (and that’s a crucial distinction) we do need to remember that it’s only sport. The partisan passion should simmer as the champagne bubbles pop and the fireworks fade. In the moment, while the race or game is ongoing, that is where the emotion should be. That’s when it’s acceptable to let a little irrationality into our judgements. Afterwards, as we turn off the television or walk out of the stadium, that’s the time for reason to return, for a more balanced appreciation of both sides, for a bit of perspective to prevail once more. Which it usually does. Football’s had its problems, obviously, but I don’t recall pitched battles between Senna and Prost fans in the car parks at Silverstone.

With this caveat in mind, taking sides should be an easy thing to advocate. As Bernard Darwin did. What Darwin didn’t have to consider was two tribes going toe-to-toe on the internet ad infinitum with the added issue of anonymity. What Darwin didn’t have to consider was Twitter.