Crafting the Victory Narrative
Oct. 7th, 2011 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mark_asphodelSports journalism ought to be at least of passing interest to the aspiring writer. The entire point of the trade is to craft a narrative out of acts that, taken in isolation, are without meaning, to impose a sense of the life-or-death struggle onto events with no inherent value. What is the meaning of a championship ring? What does it matter who hoists the Stanley Cup? Why is Alex Rodriguez worth $270,000,000? Why are baseball fans in particular essentially cheering on suits of clothes-- today's grade-A villain may be next year's beloved acquisition?
Good sports writers take a blizzard of technical bullshit and a cross-section of humans (ranging from the engaging to the off-putting to the genuinely toxic) and weave those components into a story that moves other humans in a way that few things can. Even more interesting, sports narratives are essentially reactive, crafted day-to-day in response to turns of events both "inevitable" and unexpected. It's a blend of mythmaking and prophecy, with the usual percentage of bogus prophets. But both the "inevitable" narratives and the hasty morning-after retcon narratives resonate with readers-- who, after all, are bringing their own sports headcanon along to imbue the whole mess with personal meaning.
Take the Tigers-Yankees showdown in the ALDS this week. Going into Tuesday, the Tigers and their supports had a narrative to fulfill: beat the stuffing out of the Yankees before an adoring crowd in Comerica Park, duplicating the champagne-soaked glory of '06. They failed, horribly. The Yankees, meanwhile, had their own narrative, though rather less interesting as the Yankees have the same damn quest every year: win World Series, obstacles to that goal irrelevant. Their 10-1 pasting of the Tigers on Tuesday served as a minor chapter in their inevitable steamroll to victory over everyone.
So, going into Game 5 on Thursday, the Tigers were working off a retcon narrative: journey into the belly of the beastly Bronx and face down the ghosts of the most celebrated baseball team on the planet, not to mention all their rowdy fans. Whether they survived or not was kind of beside the point; they weren't "supposed" to, not when the Yankees had every advantage.
Then things got weird. Real weird. Two Tiger home runs and six Yankee pitchers later, it came down to a moment that seemed like pure fiction. The bottom of the ninth inning. The Tigers leading by a single run. Two outs. And A-Rod, the most expensive athlete in the world, at the plate. One strike, two strikes, Rodriguez is down and out and the Tigers are celebrating before a field of 50,000 Yankees fans who've been stunned into silence. Things weren't supposed to turn out this way.
But isn't it better that they did? The drama! The nail-biting tension! The roller-coaster of fortunes between Games 3 and 5! The Yankees, teetering on the edge of victory and coming up empty, their $270M Casey-at-Bat whiffing the ball! The Tigers, hardened by Detroit and unfazed by the aura of the Yankees and their fans. The symbolism! Old idols brought down, new idols raised to legendary status! At least until the dust from the ALCS settles. And so on. The new details are incorporated seamlessly into the myth, and the band plays on.
Anyway, just something to keep in mind when trying to seduce a reader into caring passionately about the struggles of your fictional characters. Watching myths being crafted is, at the very least, instructive.
Good sports writers take a blizzard of technical bullshit and a cross-section of humans (ranging from the engaging to the off-putting to the genuinely toxic) and weave those components into a story that moves other humans in a way that few things can. Even more interesting, sports narratives are essentially reactive, crafted day-to-day in response to turns of events both "inevitable" and unexpected. It's a blend of mythmaking and prophecy, with the usual percentage of bogus prophets. But both the "inevitable" narratives and the hasty morning-after retcon narratives resonate with readers-- who, after all, are bringing their own sports headcanon along to imbue the whole mess with personal meaning.
Take the Tigers-Yankees showdown in the ALDS this week. Going into Tuesday, the Tigers and their supports had a narrative to fulfill: beat the stuffing out of the Yankees before an adoring crowd in Comerica Park, duplicating the champagne-soaked glory of '06. They failed, horribly. The Yankees, meanwhile, had their own narrative, though rather less interesting as the Yankees have the same damn quest every year: win World Series, obstacles to that goal irrelevant. Their 10-1 pasting of the Tigers on Tuesday served as a minor chapter in their inevitable steamroll to victory over everyone.
So, going into Game 5 on Thursday, the Tigers were working off a retcon narrative: journey into the belly of the beastly Bronx and face down the ghosts of the most celebrated baseball team on the planet, not to mention all their rowdy fans. Whether they survived or not was kind of beside the point; they weren't "supposed" to, not when the Yankees had every advantage.
Then things got weird. Real weird. Two Tiger home runs and six Yankee pitchers later, it came down to a moment that seemed like pure fiction. The bottom of the ninth inning. The Tigers leading by a single run. Two outs. And A-Rod, the most expensive athlete in the world, at the plate. One strike, two strikes, Rodriguez is down and out and the Tigers are celebrating before a field of 50,000 Yankees fans who've been stunned into silence. Things weren't supposed to turn out this way.
But isn't it better that they did? The drama! The nail-biting tension! The roller-coaster of fortunes between Games 3 and 5! The Yankees, teetering on the edge of victory and coming up empty, their $270M Casey-at-Bat whiffing the ball! The Tigers, hardened by Detroit and unfazed by the aura of the Yankees and their fans. The symbolism! Old idols brought down, new idols raised to legendary status! At least until the dust from the ALCS settles. And so on. The new details are incorporated seamlessly into the myth, and the band plays on.
Anyway, just something to keep in mind when trying to seduce a reader into caring passionately about the struggles of your fictional characters. Watching myths being crafted is, at the very least, instructive.
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 01:29 am (UTC)Playoff sports are great, though, if only because so often they bring out the "truth is stranger/more dramatic than fiction" element. And especially baseball, with its long and storied history.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 01:34 am (UTC)[I detest them myself. Except for Curtis Granderson. He'll always be my Tiger.]
Last night's game was the highest-rated divisional series game ever, apparently. Whole lotta people tuning in to see the Yankees lose. :D
And especially baseball, with its long and storied history.
Yeah, baseball is especially "epic." I think a large part of it is, baseball at its essence really does come down to a battle of wits and nerves and reflexes between pitcher and hitter. So yes, there is something timeless about it.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 01:40 am (UTC)I had never been into sports, but I was thrilled by PK for this reason. And, once I'd learned it, watching PK, even though a bunch of repetitive text flashing across your screen must look like the most boring thing ever to an outsider. But then, watching men dart around a field never did much for me either. All competitive events are probably something like that. The same can probably be said of chess tournaments.
But you know, as far as writing the story goes, I'm not sure how you'd apply it to your traditional linear narrative. Part of the beauty is that there are a thousand tellings before the defining moment, and in the dust only a few remain.
--
As far as seducing a reader into caring, though, I'm not sure if I find sports journalism that enlightening. I do not care about sports, and sports journalism has never made any sense to me, much less made me care.
It caresses the emotions of those who have an existing investment, no doubt. In a way you could say it's like some sort of weird fanfiction.