-by David Epstein
We grow up with the notion that if we set our minds to it we can do anything. The nature vs. nurture argument tends to sway towards the latter, because the former would cause us all to just give up and pack it in if we don't have all the right genes in all the right places. But here's the thing; we learn as we get older that we may not be as quick witted as others, or we learn at a slower pace, or that in spite of studying hard we fall short of the pack. Unfortunately for us (unless some Olympian is secretly reading my blog) the same works for physical pursuits, and from birth we were doomed to fall short of the top of the heap. David Epstein, a former Sports Illustrated writer, delves into the science behind the best of the best and just why they're so far above the lowly masses doomed to mid-level soccer in Edmonton (sorry, that got personal).
There are a few obvious examples to show how genetics can play a role in sports, and one needs to look no further than basketball. If you're above a certain height (a height that is rare enough you garner looks on the street) your chances of joining the NBA rise exponentially. This is no news - but what about a sport where no one obvious physical trait would make a great player? Let's hop on the current Blue Jays bandwagon as so many others have, don a crisp, previously unworn Jays hat and pretend we know something about baseball. But let's talk about Barry Bonds, because like most bandwagoners, I can't name a Toronto player either. He may have shown us that size certainly helps, and strength is something that falls more on the nurture side of things - we can all technically become strong, but we can't all become tall. No amount of steroids that I know of are going to push Barry up to stand eye to eye with Yao Ming. So is baseball a sport that is the great equalizer, requiring no genetic gifts? Unfortunately, no, and I don't believe one exists. Baseball requires from birth bonuses to find success just like anything else.
Baseball players can - quite literally - see better than the rest of us. A great number of them have actually much higher than 20/20 vision, and a disproportionately high number have vision that's pushing the limits on just how well human beings can see. This is critically important because baseball isn't about a batter reacting to the ball coming at him, seeing where it's going to go, and hitting it - if that were the case it would be impossible. The ball is moving at almost a hundred miles an hour and getting there in a fraction of a second. That pushes well past the limits on how quickly a human can react, let alone hit the ball out of the park. The key is to know where the ball's going right as it's leaving the hand of the pitcher. This is where sight comes in; the batters can see things others with lower vision can't, like the pattern on the ball as it's coming towards them (indicating the variety of pitch and the level of spin) and the pitcher's hand placement (much the same). Someone with lower levels of vision just can't do that, but someone with 20/10 certainly can. That being said, practice obviously comes massively into play - they still can't react fast enough, but react intuitively after learning how the ball will likely move. It's not a conscious thing as there's simply no time for that, so a batter will hit the ball through knowing how it will move from countless experiences in the past. So in a nutshell: if your eyesight is bad, good luck, but if your eyesight is flawless, after hours and hours of practice in what has to be the most mind-numbingly boring sport out there, you have a shot at reaching the majors.
Pretty well everything that is physical will find some people excelling and others coming up short. The size of our heart and lungs vary. The amount of red blood cells and the hemoglobin within them is different from person to person. The kinds of muscles we have cause variation in our running ability as well. But what if we simply train harder than the rest? What if we make up for a lack of genetics by pushing harder at every turn and making up for our crappy DNA by blood, sweat and tears (but mostly sweat)? Well... that may not pan out either. As it turns out our physiology doesn't really throw us a bone in that regard.
Let's say we take two runners of presently equal ability. They each train equally, eat with similar diets and have no advantages in bone structure or all that. What can very easily happen is one of those two gets in much better shape simply because of his genetic material going the extra mile for him, as our bodies respond to training at wildly different speeds. To become the very best - and I mean record breaking - you must possess a perfect storm of traits: a willingness to train intensely (don't forget, even those that are genetically gifted need to train), a body with an ability to receive the benefits from that training quickly and effectively, and a body type that lends itself to the sport you're pursuing. You have to win the lottery not once but three times consecutively - but if your parents were both Olympians you're bound to be holding a heck of a lot of tickets.
There's also one more thing that will certainly help you out along the way, and no, it's not just being male (although skeletal structure and levels of natural fatty tissue pretty well ruins you - sorry, women of the world). It's a little more controversial, even though it absolutely shouldn't be. If you want to run well, which helps in gosh darn nearly every sport you can think of...
It would certainly help if you're black.
Kenyans dominate long distance running to an incredible degree. For a relatively small population they have a staggering number of medals. In addition to being in an elevation "sweet spot" where levels of oxygen are perfect for long distance running training, they have a body type that perfectly suits long distance running - thin lower legs. If you're wondering why that makes a difference, think of it like this; if you hold a book in your hand and hold your arm way out wide, you'll tire very quickly. If you tape it to your body up near your shoulder, you'll be able to hold out much longer. The same premise works for legs - a weight on the lowest part of your body will have a much, much greater effect than, say, a heavy belt.
When it comes right down to it, training and effort seems to account for half of the final sum. Maybe this doesn't depress you. Maybe you think, hey, we get to see people that are hardly human in their ability due to a spectacular mix of chance and opportunity mixed with a great degree of effort. But for me, at least, I can't help but feel that little twinge of frustration thinking what could have been if only I had been spectacularly lucky. At least that's what I'll blame it on the next time I get cut from a team.
No comments:
Post a Comment