Sport is seen, first and foremost, as the best embodiment of the joy of life. Moving limbs, kinetic energy, drops of sweat, the sincere desire to win – above all, it is essentially the pursuit of happiness. It is precisely because of these associations that the death of an athlete, even if it is not explicitly stated, often seems like a contradiction in terms.
How can a sportsman die? Yes, the old adage that death and taxes are inevitable still holds true and we are all aware of mortality. But how does the general public react when the news outlets bring the grim news of a player’s death, current or past, whether on the field, in a hospital bed, from an accident or from self-harm?
Why acceptance is not easy
The usual grief template of “shock, denial and reluctant acceptance” doesn’t necessarily work. Of course, shock and denial remain massive, but acceptance takes an inordinate amount of time. How can this wonderful athlete who did spectacular things on the field suddenly become lifeless? This line of thinking flies in the face of the fine print of most sports: Injuries can happen and some can be life-threatening.
The state of lifestyle in the sporting world has been very evident in recent weeks. Former Indian opener Aunshuman Gaekwad lost his battle with cancer at the age of 71. And as if death were lurking on the cricket pitch, England’s midfielder of the 1990s and early 2000s, Graham Thorpe, also succumbed to his fate at the age of 55. His grieving family have now revealed that the left-hander committed suicide.
Since sport is also associated with the metaphor of the battlefield, it is assumed that an athlete would even stop time. Eternity and utopia are themes that run through all sporting endeavors and are contrasted with the life of the athlete.
If Gaekwad could survive the Sabina Park carnage in 1976, couldn’t he also summon the will to beat cancer? Thorpe was at his best against the toughest of attacks, and yet he was exhausted by the undercurrents of his mind battling the devilish shadows of self-doubt and depression. Our reaction was once again one of denial, and this is certainly not the first time.
Immortal Love: Ayrton Senna is still revered by racing fans three decades after his death. | Photo credit: Getty Images
Ayrton Senna’s accident on an F1 track in Bologna, Italy in 1994 still rankles. Senna was a master of mechanical speed, but what was the reason for this rush for the exit door? His legacy endures, but his death at just 34 years old raises the question again: “What could have been?”
That’s a question that former Indian opener Raman Lamba is also grappling with. The Delhi man was hit on the head while playing close to the field during a match in Dhaka and never recovered. A man who once smashed the Australian visitors all over the park during an ODI series now lies dead. That was in 1998 and although he was once again fully aware of the damage a red cherry can do to cricket, disbelief hung like a dark shroud in the air.
Silence, tears, denial
Death on the pitch is a hideous episode that keeps cropping up as some footballers have inexplicably given up their sport while pursuing the beautiful game. The autopsy report on injuries and cardiac arrests is never convincing, even when it presents the essential truth. Australian opener Phillip Hughes, crushed for life by a bouncer in 2014, evoked the same reaction: silence, tears and denial.
Sport at its highest is always truth. What you see is real, be it triumph or defeat, laughter or fear. But death, the only reality associated with life, is considered almost impossible in the realm of sport. A tent peg rider may find his horse drifting off into the woods and getting caught on a branch with serious injuries. In those rare cases, however, the knee-jerk thought remains: “How could this happen?”
But sport is a working space where the athletes are not necessarily in control. A Hughes or a Lamba can never mitigate the danger that lies in a cricket ball. The former wore a helmet, the latter did not, and yet their fate was the same. The metaphysical poet John Donne wrote in his poem Death, do not be proud: “After a short sleep we awake forever. And death will be no more: Death, you shall die.”
These lines may have been written by a wordsmith with a feverish imagination, a rebellious streak and a philosophical aura, but even Donne was lost in the sands of time in 1631. Whether in life or in sporting exhibitions, death is the uninvited guest lurking around the corner. It is always difficult to accept the finish line when your breath catches, rigor mortis sets in and the much speculated weight loss of 21 grams occurs, as the doctor Duncan MacDougall propagated in 1907.
Gone too soon: The tragic death of Australian opener Phillip Hughes was another reminder that sport is a workplace where players have no control. | Image credit: Getty Images
Sports gods such as Diego Maradona, Pele, Muhammad Ali, Shane Warne or Milkha Singh all evoke strong emotions in a fan base looking for a quick fix to boost collective self-esteem. When a star wins, the spirits of the ordinary fan are lifted. In a broader sense, the confidence of the athlete, who instills confidence in the masses, could be seen as a state of mass hypnosis of which the subject may never be aware. This almost religious or cult-like experience tends to cloud the judgement of fans.
That an athlete can never fail on a micro level and never die on a macro level becomes a notion that creeps in like a steady monsoon rain. A mixture of affection, love and awe creeps in, and inevitably the “acceptance phase” of an athlete’s death is prolonged. It is almost as if we have lost someone near and dear.
The reality of the athlete
But the pressure is real for the athlete. Most of them are scarred for life. Wicketkeepers have crippled fingers, football players break knees and ankles. The fear of failure, lonely nights in hotel rooms – all of this takes its toll. Like army veterans, the former players reminisce about the good old days. The audience gets bored after a while. Then they seek relief in a glass of liquor.
For every Martina Navratilova or Yuvraj Singh who has survived cancer, there are others for whom the mountain is too steep to climb. Athletes who feel invincible and are driven by their unyielding belief tend to ignore the alarm bells of their health. Some recover with time, others struggle. And yet the majority of the population tends to rely on the visible fitness of the athlete and never get a handle on a silent illness or the shards of pain racing through the mind.
Ironically, death lurks as a metaphor in sport. A sending off, a missed goal, a lost catch, even a celebrated retirement after a glorious career are all seen as mini-deaths. But when the final whistle does blow in life, the athlete’s fan base prefers to block the news for a while. If sport is life, can death be far away?
For help in overcoming suicidal thoughts, call the government health helpline 104, Tele-MANAS 14416 and Sneha’s suicide prevention helpline 044-24640050. Find helplines across the country here: https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/suicide-prevention-helplines/article61753129.ece
