Who’s the genius of ‘em all?

Sports lovers are known to debate passionately the relative merits of champions from different eras. This cuts across age groups, genders, communities and sometimes even countries. For instance, whether Maradona was more accomplished than Pele became a bone of serious contention between Argentina and Brazil in reiterating national identity through supremacy in soccer.

On my first cricket tour, to Pakistan in 1982-83, I spent several memorable evenings with the brilliant commentator and writer Omar Kureishi who was a committed Hanif Mohammed supporter. My argument was that Sunil Gavaskar’s brilliance as an opener had already exceeded the renowned Pakistani’s. That dispute remained in stalemate till Omar sadly died a few years, though he had by then grudgingly accepted that Gavaskar had equal right as Hanif to be called ‘Little Master’.

As anybody who has participated in it would know, the dialectic of such discussions is peculiarly its own and stems from a deep sense of loyalty that only hardcore sports lovers are capable of. So deep in fact, that it would rarely win plaudits from Socrates, Aristotle or any other reasonably smart logician, because the heart more often than not dominates the head in the arguments and counter-thrusts put forward.

Facts and stats are deployed liberally, and if even these fail to swing the vote, sublime, qualitative virtues are suddenly discovered in their chosen one to clinch the issue. If this too flops, a quick-fire fist-fight has been known to break the deadlock — at least temporarily — though sometimes it can get far worse. I was once told of a Japanese couple that divorced because they couldn’t agree on the merits of David Beckham’s skills.

Even if apocryphal, this shows how besotted and intense sports lovers can be, and just why they are almost always on the boil where their favourites are concerned. I can’t think of many other human endeavours that come under such sharp scrutiny for comparing individuals as does sport. Not business, not politics, perhaps cinema and music to an extent, but that mainly at the esoteric level.

Yet, while these debates can be great fun (or agony, if you are on the losing side) they are an academic exercise at best. How does one know conclusively that Roger Federer is greater than Rod Laver even if he has won 15 majors? Or that Jack Hobbs was a better opener than Len Hutton because he made 197 first-class hundreds? Or that Michael Phelps is a greater swimmer than Mark Spitz?

Time and technology, as history proves, changes techniques, physique and mindsets, leading to progressively better performances. It is less than 50 years ago Roger Bannister became the first man to run the mile in under four minutes: today, if a miler would not qualify if he didn’t.

Indeed, brilliance in one era begets brilliance in the next one largely because outstanding performers become role models for subsequent generations. This is more readily manifest in sport because it fires the human imagination to challenge the challenge to expand the limits of physical achievement.

In a metaphorical sense, there would be no Usain Bolt if there hadn’t been Jesse Owens or a Tendulkar if there had been no Gavaskar. The baton passes from one generation to another, and worthy new incumbents must necessarily exceed the previous ones: not only to improve on the legacy of excellence, but to keep the human race going.