Once you notice sports commentators’ insistence that this game, or that moment is “massive” or “huge” for the team/player involved, you cannot stop noticing it. Their assertions become comic. “That was a massive putt to make for McIlroy.” “This is a huge moment for Liverpool in the title race.”
So, why do they do it? Well, they could hardly say, “That putt was of minimal importance to Rory McIlroy in the context of his whole life”, or “That goal is of little consequence for Liverpool, especially if you consider how many games they have played since they were founded in 1892.” The commentators have a responsibility to create significance for the audience. I’m writing this Sunday morning with Match of the Day on the TV, and Martin Keown has just mentioned David Moyes’ massive impact at Everton, and how Ipswich’s match with Southampton was huge.
It’s not just commentators. Since I’ve “retired” I’ve taken up tennis. I played my son’s mate Harrison last night and made my family laugh by telling them it was a massive match. And tonight I’m playing Georgios in the local tennis league – it’s going to be huge! I know it’s funny – I’m a 60 year-old with support bandages around both knees, a sore hip and, quite frankly, a crappy backhand – but what choice has an old man got?
Creating our own meaning in what we do needs careful crafting. Whatever you’re doing this minute is hugely important, because you’ll never get the chance to do it again; on the other hand, it doesn’t matter at all in the scheme of things. Finding the pitch between taking things too seriously and not seriously enough is central, I think, to leading a happy life.
When my dad passed away forty years ago this week – forty years ago, for goodness’ sake! – I was in my second term at university. Dad was just 57 when he died. Pippa Tristram was teaching me Chaucer’s “Troilus and Criseyde”. When heroic Troilus is slain at the end of the poem, he rises up and looks down on This litel spot of erthe… /And in him-self he lough right at the wo/ Of hem that wepten for his deeth so faste.[1] It helped me keep dad’s death in perspective. His fate will happen to us all. The only thing we can do, while we have the chance, is live as though everything we do is huge, whilst acknowledging inside that it’s anything but!
[1] “This little spot earth… and laughed to himself at the woe of those who wept uncontrollably at his death.”