On the Homestretch in the Bottom of the Ninth
It's no secret that the press loves to equate the scrum of American politics with, well, a rugby scrum. Sports lingo gives us ink-stained wretches a convenient explanatory shorthand (understandable by even the slobbiest of football slobs) to use in whittling down the impossibly complex narrative of a modern Presidential campaign into an easily digested blurb or soundbite.
The candidates themselves play into this simplification, often by associating themselves with a sport that is photogenic, action-oriented, and above all manly. Teddy Roosevelt was a big-game hunter, JFK had football, and Bill Clinton ate fast-food (if you don't believe that's a contact sport, just ask Morgan Spurlock). The theory is that we will find the candidates more relatable, more human, if we see them engaging in these types of activities. Of course it doesn't always work that way, as John Kerry's pathetically stiff attempts at windsurfing clearly show, but the allure of a quick and easy image boost is just too much for most campaigns to pass up.
However, lost in all the sporting imagery and phrasing is a crucial aspect of sport, one that is drilled into the heads of every little league soccer player in the land: sportmanship. As defined by Wikipedia, sportsmanship:
"...is how each competitor acts before, during, and after the competition. Not only is it important to have good sportsmanship if one wins, but also if one loses."
In other words, it's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.