Another Canon Fodder definition:
athlete – a person that makes the conscious decision to partake in training to better themselves beyond the scope of “ordinary†for their particular brand of competition.
A key aspect here is the dedication put forth by the athlete to their respective craft. Just as a basketball player practices the jump shot, a chess player studies theory and strategy. They are both exercising the proverbial ‘muscles’ necessary for them to compete at the highest levels of their sport.
As we discussed on Monday, golf is a non-sport, but I feel Tiger Woods is an athlete. Driving a ball a few hundred yards with accuracy isn’t just a skill; it’s a feat of strength that comes from proper conditioning and practice. (Though pro golfers are sissies for having someone else carry their bag and clubs.) On the flipside, someone like John Daly doesn’t seem to be hitting the gym too often so he can stay on top of his game. He might die if he attempted to carry his own bags for a round of eighteen.  The lesson? A golfer can be an athlete (Tiger Woods) but doesn’t have to be (Lefty and Daly). Besides, there’s a senior tour so let’s not get too carried away and start calling the geriatric set “athletesâ€. Golf is a game and you don’t have to be an athlete to master it, but it certainly helps.
Much in the same vein, I’ve always been of the opinion NASCAR drivers are not athletes. Driving a car and turning left is a skill not much removed from what most of us do daily. A big bicep in the right arm and a big tricep in the left does not an athlete make. Gas, shift, turn left and repeat a thousand times on a Sunday afternoon. I was never really impressed. (And don’t even bring up the whole “but they lose 10 pounds sweating in the heat†and other such nonsense. Compared to running a marathon, driving a stockcar is like relaxing in a hot sauna.)
However, as time has passed, I’ve come to see the light. Racecar drivers are athletes as they do hone their driving skill to such an extent that barreling down the track at 200 mph within inches of another car is just another day. (Then again, I call that rush hour on I-696.)
You know what? I’ve changed my mind again. Drivers are back in the non-athlete category. Paul Newman was still racing competitively at 70 years old. If he can be that age and continue to be a challenger in racing – keep in mind, he’s an actor, not a racing prodigy – then I believe I’m on firm ground stating that being a racecar driver is more about skill than athleticism. Besides, the cars do all the work so drivers are out. Sorry gearheads.
While we’re talking about someone doing the work while others take the credit, horse jockeys are going to take the same lumps as drivers; the horse is the one actually doing the work. They deserve the credit.  Unfortunately, Secretariat is out as an athlete too. Why? Because he’s a horse. At no point did he make the decision, Hey, I want to be a racehorse. If his owner had opted to have him pulling cartloads of kids to the local pumpkin patch, Secretariat had no choice in the matter. The horse didn’t make personal sacrifices to be the best racehorse possible. Without that conscious decision, racehorses and other animals find themselves on the outside of the athlete spectrum.
So what about cockfighting? Those little buggers certainly have made a decision to destroy their opponent. I’ll admit, while a horse is prompted by a midget on its back pummeling it with a switch to get it around the track, a chicken adorned with razor blades pretty much goes about its grim business pretty much of its own accord because they’re just plain mean. But until I see a chicken training to “Gonna Fly Now†in a montage, I’m not giving them credit for becoming the best fighter they can be. I think they would be just as happy eating corn kernels in a barnyard as eviscerating another of its kind.
But you’re prepared to call a chess player like Bobby Fischer an athlete? Definitely. He was a prodigy, but he also worked at being the best. He read. He practiced. He was blessed with an innate gift and honed it to such a degree as to be a master in competition. Bobby Fischer was the Jim Brown of the chess world; rose to its absolute pinnacle and walked away while on top. (And we all collectively turn our attention away from how politically nutty these two have become since their glory days.)
So there you are. You think I’m off my rocker? Am I overlooking something? Send me an e-mail (jeff@canon-fodder.com) and maybe you’ll convince me to revisit the subject in a future post.
Keep on passing Canon Fodder around. I might even gain a following.
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