SCIENCE (No plaigarism, A++ Work, On Time, Quality)

Being versus Doing in International Sports

Conrad P. Kottak

At the close of the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary,where "Team USA" had not excelled, it was an- nounced that New York Yankee owner George Steinbren- ner had been hired by the U.S. Olympic Committee to head a panel to determine how American athletic perfor- mance on the international level could be improved. Many Americans were asking how our "free-enterprise" athletes could have been bested so often by "commun- ists." Had we lost our "national will to win"?

A broad and objective analysis of determinants of inter- national sports success would ponder several general questions unlikely to be considered by Steinbrenner's panel, and would recognize that the Olympic Games provide excellent case study material for the understand- ing of cultural contrasts as applied to sports and the val- ues they express. Why do countries excel at particular sports? Why do certain nations pile up dozens of Olympic medals while others win only a handful, or none at all? Cross-cultural comparison demonstrates that it is not simply a matter of rich and poor, developed and under- developed, or even of the virtual "cradle-to-medal" gov- ernment support that is provided to promising athletes in such places as East Germany and the Soviet Union. It is not even a question of "national will to win," for, al- though certain nations stress winning even more than Americans do, a cultural focus on winning does not nec- essarily lead to the desired result. Indeed, cross-cultural comparison shows that an overemphasis on winning may actually decrease its likelihood.

This article examines several ways in which cultural values, society, and the media influence international sports success. As primary examples I use the United States and Brazil, the national giants of the western hemi- sphere, with populations of 240 million and 140 million respectively. These countries both have continental pro- portions and large, physically and ethnically diverse pop- ulations with roots in Europe, Africa, Asia, and Native

America. Each is the major economic power of its con- tinent. However, they offer striking and revealing con- trasts in Olympic success: in the last Summer Olympics the United States won 174 medals, while Brazil managed only 8.

Part of the explanation for variable success of nations in international sports competition lies in the availability, extent, variety, and sophistication of media sports coverage. Americans' interest in sports has been honed over the years by an ever-growing media establishment, which provides us with daily examples of individual and team accomplishments, self-definition through activity and achievement, and, presumably, payoffs from hard work—all of which are highly valued by our culture. In addition to our tripartite structuring of local "news" broadcasts into news, sports, and weather, there is a steady stream of televised events, matches, games, play- offs, and championships. By 1985, our commercial televi- sion networks were broadcasting 1,500 hours of sports • annually—double the 1960 figure. Today, cable TV, which reaches more than half of all American homes, provides almost constant sports coverage. In 1984, the last full Olympic year prior to this writing, two sports programs ranked first (Super Bowl) and tenth (Summer Olympic Closing Ceremony) in total television viewership, and the Olympic games attracted extensive coverage and substan- tial, if not overwhelming, audiences, as the Winter Olym- pics also did in 1988.

Brazilian television, which I have been studying since 1983 (with support from the Wenner-Gren Foundation, the National Science Foundation, and the National In- stitute of Mental Health), has much less sports coverage than does American television, and the coverage that is offered is amateurish. There is no apparent technical rea- son for this. Brazil has a high-quality commercial televi- sion network (Rede Globo), which draws some 70 million people—60 to 90 percent of the national nightly au-

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dience—to locally produced programs, and regularly pro- duces expertly made dramatic and documentary shows. But with respect to media conduits for sports, Brazil has no cable channels, and sports are a regular part of neither local nor national news. There is no regular nationally televised sports event comparable to the Super Bowl or the World Series. The World (soccer) Cup, held every four years, is the only sports event that ever draws audiences comparable to those of Rede Globo's most popular reg- ular programs, the telenovelas or locally produced soap operas that are broadcast nightly in three slots: 6, 7, and 8:30 P.M.

Despite the fact that for decades soccer has been a Bra- zilian national obsession, engendering fierce team loyalty and passionate interest, regularly scheduled soccer matches are not televised very often, so that fans must either attend local games or follow them on the radio. Nor are championships and major hometown games, such as the traditional rivalry between Rio de Janeiro's Flamengo and Fluminense (Fla-Flu) clubs, which routinely attracts 200,000 people to Maracana, the world's largest soccer stadium, shown on television. In this context of meager overall television sports coverage, it is perhaps unsurpris- ing that in the Olympic year of 1984, no sports event— not even the Summer Olympics, to which Brazil sent more than 150 athletes—attracted much of a television audience.

The Olympics is an international event in which much of the world can participate via television. The games are supposed to unite nations (symbolized by the interlinked rings of the official logo), providing a peaceful context for competition between them. However, given flags, an- thems, Olympic history, and the tally of medals by coun- try, nationalism is unavoidable, and the media fuel the international competitive aspect of the games. In summer 1984, ABC was criticized for stirring up undue nationalist fervor because its cameras seemed rooted to the Los An- geles spectators, largely United States citizens, and their victory chants of "U.S.A., U.S.A." To many, ABC's coverage was too jingoistic. It irritated athletes and coaches from other countries, many of whom did not realize that their fans back home were seeing different reports, and led the president of the international Olym- pic committee formally to protest what he said was ABC's overemphasis on American athletes.

For the 1984 Summer Olympics, ABC actually pro- duced not only the broadcasts seen by Americans and tailored for them, but also a more neutral record of each event—about 1,300 hours of coverage in all—available to be excerpted for broadcast throughout the world. Fas- cinating cultural contrasts are revealed when we consider how the Olympics were viewed and interpreted by televi- sion and the press in various countries. Cultural variation is obvious in the different ways in which the same film and events were scheduled, edited, cut, excerpted, ex- plained, and evaluated in different nations.

In most nations, if no countrymen are participating, the media do not pay much attention to a sports event.

This is an obvious reason Brazilian television pays almost no attention to the Winter Olympics: cold-weather sports are of little interest to Brazilians. It is much more surpris- ing that Brazilian television pays so little attention to the Summer Olympics, to which Brazil routinely sends a large delegation. In 1984 the Globo network did not fol- low ABC's example of substituting Summer Games coverage for regular fare, nor does it plan to do so in 1988. Instead, Globo rigidly maintains its normal schedule, of- fering Olympic summaries outside of prime-time. Reg- ular programming is interrupted only for a very few special events of strong interest to Brazilians, such as, in 1984, swimmer Ricardo Prado's performance in the finals of the 400 Individual Medley, which took place during the eight o'clock telenovela. Globo's strategy makes sense, given the preferences of the Brazilian audience, which in 1984, when presented with a choice, opted for Globo's normal programming 7 to 1 over the Manchete network's broadcast of the Summer Olympic Games Opening Cere- mony ABC, on the other hand, had much fuller 1984 Summer Olympic coverage, despite the fact that the games cut into its profitable day-time soap opera sched- ule. The level of interest in the United States was suffi- ciently high for ABC to meet its pledge to sponsors to dehver 25 percent of American households during prime- time (even as Globo was holding 60 percent of Brazilian television household with routine telenovelas).

To this American analyst, the Olympic coverage that did get broadcast in Brazil in summer 1984 can be crit- icized on several grounds. There was too little live coverage, focusing too exclusively on events in which Bra- zilians were participating, to the neglect of some of the most dramatic events, with certain key races never shown. For example, as far as I know, Brazilian television never showed the tie between two American women swimmers for first place in the 100 meter freestyle. Nor did Brazilian television provide "expert" commen- tators—so familiar to American televiewers—to explain sport events to novices. In fact, Brazilian sportscasters demonstrated poor knowledge of sports other than soccer. This was true throughout the media, the press as well as television. One newsmagazine, for example, erroneously reported that West German swimmer Michael Gross had won the 200 meter butterfly and that he had beaten a previous world record time of 54.27 (a more plausible time for the 100 but impossible for the 200 meter event). Another missing element in Brazilian sports coverage was the human interest angle so typical of American report- ing. This was obvious again in Winter 1988 in the United States in stories about skaters Debi Thomas and Dan Jan- sen, whose sister died just before he was to compete, and the rivalry between two skaters named Brian (Boitano and Orser). In Brazil, just the contest, if even that, was shown, with no commentary about the background, qualities, and prior challenges that got the competitors there.

Through visual demonstration, commentary, and ex- planation of rules and training, the media help introduce

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sports to people, stimulating interest in participation. Time magazine, reasonably, attributed 1984 American Olympic success in bicycling, in which American men won six medals, to the popularity of the film Breaking Away. Indeed, the media play a major role in stimulating interest in all kinds of sports—amateur and professional, team and individual, spectator and participatory. Until Brazil has more frequent, reliable, and varied sports coverage, it is unlikely that its international^ports suc- cess, aside from soccer, and car racing (which is televised), will increase much.

Aside from media neglect of sports, another reason for Brazil's poor overall Olympic performance is that team sports and victories are emphasized too much and—a related matter—there is too thin a line between profes- sional and amateur sports. In the Brazilian sports estab- lishment, professional team sports have overwhelming weight—with soccer as king. A strong personal connec- tion between fan and soccer team begins on the local level, where the fan proclaims "I am Fluminense," or "I am Flamengo," and fans yearn for their team's victories, which are perceived as their own. This habit fosters an intense personal identification of fan with athletes—pro- fessional or amateurs—that Brazil's Olympic athletes find extremely oppressive.

The load is heavy because Brazilian athletes in interna- tional competition, such as Olympic gold medalist runner Joaquim Cruz, silver medalist swimmer Ricardo Prado— or any soccer player in the Olympics or World Cup— represent Brazilians, almost in the same way as Congress is said to represent the people of the United States. A win by a Brazilian team or the occasional nationally known individual athlete is felt to bring respect to the entire na- tion, but the Brazilian media are strikingly intolerant of losers. How is this internalized by Brazilian athletes? When Ricardo Prado swam in the finals of the 400 Indi- vidual Medley, during the eight o'clock telenovela, one newsmagazine observed, "It was as though he was the country with a swimsuit on, jumping in the pool in a collective search for success." Prado's own feelings con- firmed the magazine's, "When I was on the stands, I thought of just one thing: what they'll think of the resuU in Brazil." After beating his old world record by 1.33 sec- onds, in a second place finish, Prado told a fellow team member, "I think I did everything right. I feel like a win- ner, but will they think I'm a loser in Brazil?" Leaving the pool, Prado rushed to phone home, to find out how the national audience had viewed his performance. Prado commented that he realized as he swam that he was per- forming in prime-time and that "all of Brazil would be watching," and he complained about having the expecta- tions of an entire country focused on him. He contrasted the situations of Brazilian and American athletes. The United States has, he said, so many athletes that no single one has to summarize the country's hopes.

Fortunately, Brazil did seem to value Prado's perfor- mance, which was responsible for "Brazil's best result ever in Olympic swimming." Previously the country had won

a total of only three bronze medals (in 1952, 1960, and 1980)—the last in Moscow for a relay Labeling Prado "the man of silver," the media never tired of characteriz- ing Prado's top event, the 400 IM, in which he had once held the world record, as the most complete, exhausting, and challenging event in swimming.

Americans commend those who run good races without finishing first.

The kind words for Ricardo Prado did not extend to the rest of the Brazilian swim team. The press lamented the "succession of failures that Brazilian swimmers . . . ac- cumulated in the first days of competition." "It was a disaster, nothing went right," said one swimmer. "For an underdeveloped country we did very well," rationalized another. Prado consoled the team, "You gave your best and that's all you could do," and when he returned to Brazil he complained that the Brazilian sports establish- ment gives swimmers, and athletes in general, poor sup- port. "They think all you have to do is to put athletes up for a week at a good hotel." The president of the Brazilian confederation of swimming countered that the swim team actually had been given considerable support, but had disappointed the country—a statement to the press that violated the American canon that you should not speak ill of young (amateur) athletes.

An article in the Brazilian newsmagazine Veja, written prior to Joaquim Cruz's unexpected gold medal in track, decried a "pallid performance" up to then, in which only Ricardo Prado stood out among Brazil's Olympic con- tenders. Veja speculated about whether the 1984 soccer team could "avenge" Brazil's loss of the World Cup in Spain in 1982. (It did not—getting only a silver to France's gold medal.) Knowing that the press (as is docu- mented in the following quotes from the major news- magazines) is ever ready to express "the nation's terrible disappointment" (as it did when the basketball team failed to defend the "national sports dignity"), it is no wonder that Brazilian competitors feel burdened. One yachtsman arrived in Los Angeles a month early so that his fears would diminish, but he still did not win. "We're only going to relax," said a volleyball player, "with the medal in hand." (The men's volleyball team also had to settle for "the bitter taste of silver.") The eventual failure of the women's basketball team was attributed to tension and "apathy." Ricardo Prado expressed his feelings as a Brazilian athlete: "Success in swimming has changed me a lot, has left me harder, less confident. I need to relax. I don't intend to kill myself for anybody."

Expectably, during the 1984 Summer Olympics the Brazilian media focused on the team sports—soccer, bas- ketball, volleyball—and on Prado's swimming success, al-

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ways juxtaposed with the team's overall failure. There was little interest in and coverage of individual performances, other than Prado and Cruz, Brazil's only gold medalist. For example, when eventual silver medalist Douglas Viera disputed the gold medal with a Korean judoist, only five Brazilians (one athlete, two coaches, two journalists) bothered to attend, while hundreds of Koreans were there cheering on his opponent. The judo matches, which re- sulted in Brazil's second, third, and fourth medals ever in that sport, and the first since 1972, were not televised live, even though all three athletes had previously enjoyed some international success, so that the medals should not have been unexpected. The media gatekeepers had simply decided that the nation was uninterested in their feats. The names of the three medalists (one silver, two bronze) were mentioned briefly on television, but I never saw film of their matches.

There is more to the development of sports than con- stant and supportive media attention. There must also be encouragement of participation on the local level. This is available in the United States through myriad clubs and public school athletic teams. In contrast in Brazil, teams in such sports as swimming, gymnastics, and diving are usually associated with money-making professional soc- cer teams. Because of this association, the Brazilian sports establishment does not pay much attention to the profes- sional/amateur distinction. Indeed, Brazil's most suc- cessful athletes on the international scene—professional soccer players—have been allowed to play in the Olym- pics, and Brazil's 1984 Olympic soccer coach admitted to foreign journalists that his team had just two amateurs, with the others "beginning professionals." As a result, the media and fans alike apply the same standards and judg- ments to amateur athletes that are used for salaried professionals.

A general measure of a nation's sports maturity, under- lying its international sports success, is the extent to which it provides wide public access to athletic facilities and opportunities—places and occasions for prospective athletes to practice, develop, and compete. Sports oppor- tunities in Brazil (except for soccer, which is played in town squares and streets, in fields and on beaches) are relatively few because Brazil has no well-developed public education system, with the teams, facilities, and schedules that foster athletic competition in the United States. The United States can afford to maintain the distinction be- tween amateur and professional sports because it has one of the world's largest sports establishments. Our de- veloped economy, voracious media, achievement orienta- tion, competitiveness, and traditions of joining clubs and associations all provide fertile ground for the growth of all kinds of sports—team and individual.

Because Brazilian athletes are expected not just to rep- resent but almost to be the country, and because team sports are emphasized, the media focus too exclusively on winning, to the detriment of overall athletic success. How different is the situation in the United States? Winning is also an important American cultural value, particularly

in team sports, as in Brazil. American football coaches are famous for comments such as "Winning isn't every- thing; it's the only thing" and "Show me a good loser and I'll show you a loser." However, and particularly for sports such as running, swimming, diving, gymnastics, and skat- ing, which focus on the individual, and in which Amer- ican athletes usually do well, American culture also admires "moral victories," "personal bests," "comeback athletes," and "special Olympics" and commends those who run good races without finishing first. In amateur sports, American culture tells us that hard work and per- sonal improvement can be as important as winning.

Americans are so accustomed to being told that their culture overemphasizes winning that they find it hard to believe that other cultures value it even more. But Brazil certainly does. Ricardo Prado, commenting on his mas- sive press coverage when he held the world record for the 400 meter individual medley, observed that only winning athletes were noticed in Brazil—only number ones, never number twos. He blasted the press for neglecting the achievements of athletes who held no world records.

Brazilian sports enthusiasts are preoccupied with world records, probably because only a win (as in soccer) or a best time (as in swimming) can make Brazil indisputably, even if temporarily, the best in the world at something. Ricardo Prado's former world record in the 400 Individ- ual Medley was constantly mentioned in the press prior to the 1984 Olympics. The best-time standard also provides Brazilians with a ready basis to fault a swimmer or runner for not going fast enough, when they do not achieve pre- vious times. On the basis of this, we could predict, cor- rectly, that sports in which standards are very subjective would not be popular spectator sports in Brazil. Bra- zilians like to assign blame to athletes who fail them, and negative comments about gymnasts or divers are more difficult because grace and execution cannot be quan- tified as easily as time.

Brazilians value winning so much because it is so rare. In the United States, resources are more abundant, social classes less marked, opportunities for achievement more numerous, poverty less pervasive, and individual social mobility easier. American society has room for many winners. Brazilian society is more stratified; a much smaller middle class and elite group makes up just 30 percent of the population. Brazilian sports echo lessons from the larger society: victories are scarce and reserved for the privileged few.

Values in Sports Not only do favorite sports, the athlete's role, and em-

phasis on winning vary between cultures, contrasting val- ues are also revealed in the interpretations that the media, as well as ordinary people, offer when they discuss par- ticular performances. The factors believed to contribute to sports success belong to a larger context of cultural values. Particulariy relevant in this context is the contrast that anthropologists draw between ascribed and achieved status. Individuals have little control over the ascribed

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statuses they occupy (for example, age and sex), which depend on intrinsic qualities, what one is rather than what one does. On the other hand, people have more control over—more to do with—the achieved statuses (for example, student or tennis player) that they occupy. Since—in the eyes of American law, if hardly in reality— we start out the same, American culture emphasizes achieved over ascribed status. We are supposed to make of our lives what we will and can. Success comes through achievement. An American's identity emerges as a result of what he or she does.

American culture admires moral victories, personal bests, and athletes

who make a comeback.

In Brazil, on the other hand, social identity rests on being rather than doing, on what one is from the start—a strand in a web of personal connections, originating in the extended family Brazilians' social identities are based in large part on class background and family connections. Brazilians see nothing wrong with using them for all they are worth. Parents, in-laws, and extended kin are all tapped for entries to desired settings and positions. Fam- ily position and network membership contribute substan- tially to individual fortune, and all social life is hierarchical. Brazilian law accords privileged treatment to certain classes of citizens, such as university degree hold- ers, who usually have privileged family backgrounds. No one doubts that rank confers advantages in myriad con- texts and encounters in everyday social life. High-status Brazilians do not stand patiently on line as Americans do. Important people expect their business to be attended to immediately, and social inferiors readily yield. Rules do not apply uniformly, but differentially, according to social class. The final resort in any conversation is "Do you know who you're talking to?" The American opposite, reflecting our democratic and egalitarian ethos, is "Who do you think you are?" As has been discussed at length by Brazilian anthropologist Roberto DaMatta in his influen- tial book Carnavais, Malandros e Herbis, when Bra- zilians ask "Do you know who you're talking to?" they are conjuring up all the well-connected people included within their personal networks—whether relatives, in- laws, school chums, business associates, or friends.

The contrasting roles that different cultures assign to ascribed and achieved status extend to sports. The follow- ing description of one of Brazil's 1984 judo medalists (as reported by Veja magazine) illustrates the importance of ascribed status and the fact that in Brazilian life victories are regarded as scarce and reserved for the privileged few.

Middle-weight Olympic bronze medalist Walter Carmona began judo at age six and became a Sap Paulo champion at twelve. With his fourth place in Moscow in 1980, and subsequent prizes, he is Bra- zil's winningest judoist. Carmona lives in Sao Paulo with his family (father, mother, siblings); he trains five hours a day and is in his fifth year of engineer- ing at Mackenzie University. He is fully supported by his father, a factory owner. Walter Carmona's life has been comfortable—he has been able to study and dedicate himself to judo without worries. His situation brings great satisfaction to his father, who says that he is "proud to support a champion."

Although satisfied with the Los Angeles result, the father thought his son "deserved more than a bronze medal." "We are certain he expected the gold," said his mother—who seems to have been right, since Carmona didn't bother to phone home after receiving his medal. His final match over, the athlete "took a vacation from his team" and toured Los Angeles, not bothering to attend the silver- medal winning match of his judo teammate Doug- las Viera.

Although wealth often does contribute to sports success in the United States—albeit less so than in Brazil—it is hard to imagine Time, Newsweek, or American television running a similar account. Like our culture, our media prefer underdogs and rags-to-riches stories. Even when an athlete does come from a privileged family, reporters do their best to find some aspect of doing, some special per- sonal triumph or achievement, to focus on. Often this involves the athlete's struggle with adversity (illness; in- jury; pain; the death of a parent, sibling, friend, or coach) and helps depict the featured athlete as not only suc- cessful but noble and self-sacrificing as well.

Given the opposite focus on ascribed status in Brazil, the guiding assumption in sports as in society is that one cannot do more than what one is. For example, the Bra- zilian Olympic Committee sent no female swimmers to Los Angeles because none had made arbitrarily estab- lished cutoff times. This excluded a South American rec- ord holder, while swimmers with no better times were attending from other South American countries. The at- titude was that only swimmers with these arbitrary times had any chance to place in Los Angeles. No one seemed to imagine that Olympic excitement might spur swim- mers to extraordinary efforts.

In contrast, achievement-oriented American sports coverage dotes on unexpected results, illustrating ad- herence to the American sports credo originally enunci- ated by Yogi Berra: "It's not over till it's over." American culture, supposedly so practical and realistic, has a re- markable faith in coming from behind—in unexpected and miraculous achievements.

The contrasting portraits of the United States and Bra- zil that emerge from media coverage of the Olympics pose

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an achievement-oriented society in which "anything is possible" against an ascribed-status society in which it's over before it begins, and athletes internalize these values. Illustrating some of the factors believed to contribute to sports success in American culture, one 1984 Summer Olympic issue of Newsweek focused on three athletes— Australian swimmer John Sebin, who Scored an upset win; American gymnast Mary Lou Retton, a gold-medal winning "piston-driven pixie"; and Japan's Koji Gush- iken, who finally won the all-around male gymnastics title through tenacity. Although these winners were the products of different nations and had followed different paths to Olympic success, American values (summarized by the italicized words) were used to explain their achieve- ments. These athletes were considered newsworthy in American culture because they embodied three American hero types: the underdog (Sebin); the giant killer (Retton); and the tenacious worker (Gushiken). Most obviously, Retton and Sebin, pixie giantkiller and underdog kid from out of nowhere, appealed to the characteristic Amer- ican preoccupation with the unexpected. Their achieve- ments were especially interesting to Americans because they were in some sense extraordinary aiid unforeseen. Given Sebin's twenty-fifth-place world ranking prior to the event, the odds against his winning his race were "al- most overwhelming." (Brazilians might have discouraged him from entering key races, or even kept him home.) Even Gushiken's victory was interpreted by the American media as the end to a "quest" that had spanned three Olympics. At twenty-seven, he would ordinarily be con- sidered all but decrepit by the standards of his sport. Newsweek proclaimed that "things like this don't happen in real life, only at the Olympics."

The credo that anyone can do anything is rooted in the doing—achievement—orientation of American culture. Unexpected results, virtually ignored by the Brazilian media, are considered some of the "brightest" Olympic moments by the American press. Not only did "un- heralded" swimmer Sebin score "a stunning upset" over Michael Gross in the 200-meter butterfly, "against all odds" an American swimmer with a much slower seed time than Gross anchored the United States team to vic- tory in a relay that the West Germans "had seemed des- tined to win."

The upset nature of these wins was not even mentioned in Brazil—because Brazilian culture has little interest in the unexpected. Brazilians assume that if you go into an event with a top seedtime, as Ricardo Prado did, you have a chance to win a medal. Prado's second-place finish made perfect sense back home, since his former world record had been bettered before the race began. Brazilian culture also criticizes failures to perform as well as ex- pected, given what one was at the outset; however, it does not anticipate unexpected success through sudden bursts of achievement during final competition. Because of this, the Brazilian media did not know what to do with runner Joaquim Cruz's unexpected gold medal, and he received less coverage than Ricardo Prado. An American news-

magazine ran a cover story using Cruz's humble upbring- ing on the outskirts of Brasilia to illustrate classic American values.

Given the overwhelming value that American culture places on work, it might seem surprising that our media devote so much attention to unforeseen results and so little to the years of training, preparation, and competi- tion that underlie Olympic performance. It is probably assumed that hard work is so obvious and fundamental that it goes without saying, or perhaps the assumption is that by the time athletes actually enter Olympic competi- tion all are so similar (the American value of equality) that only mysterious and chance factors can explain vari- able success. The American focus on the unexpected is applied to losses as well as to wins, so that factors encom- passed by such concepts as chance, fate, mystery, and uncertainty are viewed as legitimate reasons for defeat. Runners and skaters fall; ligaments tear; a gymnast "inex- plicably" falls off the pommel horse.

Americans thus recognize chance disaster as compan- ion to unexpected success, but Brazilians place more re- sponsibility on the individual, assigning personal fault. Less is attributed to factors beyond human control. When individuals who should have performed well, on the basis of what they are, do not, they are blamed for their failures. Accepting their body's failures, it is culturally appropriate for Brazilian athletes to invoke poor health as an excuse for losing. An American track star, Carl Lewis, could assert that "at the Olympics, it's 100% mental, be- cause there's nothing you can change physically." Bra- zilians would disagree: you can always get sick. Indeed, Brazilian athletes routinely mention colds or diarrhea as a reason for a poor performance.

For example, because of a cold, runner Joaquim Cruz, Brazil's only gold medalist, withdrew from his second event, the 1500 meter race, in which he was favored, al- most certainly because there is so much pressure on Bra- zilian athletes to win, and he was afraid he would not win. The newsmagazine Veja's report of his explanation for withdrawing illustrates some of the contrasting national values about the role of illness in sports.

The night I ran in the finals of the 800 meters, I ate badly, almost didn't sleep, and was awakened at six A.M. by a phone call by "Uncle" [Joao] Figueiredo [then President of Brazil]. I was already weak from running four races in four days. Then I saw I had caught a terrible cold. I went to see the doctor sup- plied by Nike [the sport-shoe company], had acu- puncture and massages, and spent a night at the Santa Monica Holiday Inn to see if I could rest better, but it was impossible to recover my form.

Cruz withdrew because he "had no interest in running and placing last," was flying to Europe to compete again the following week, and wanted to "save himself to set worid records later in the year. Cruz's decision to forgo the 1,500 meter race was accepted by his countrymen. He was

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right to withdraw, I was told in Brazil, because he proba- bly would not have won anyway since he was sick.

Poor health is used differently by American and Bra- zilian athletes, and particulariy by the media and publics that must interpret and evaluate their performances. Bra- zilians use illness negatively, as an excuse, whereas Amer- icans use it positively, as a challenge that often can be met and bested. As an illustration of this, contrast Cruz's be- havior with that of top-seeded American breaststroker John Moffet, who sprained a leg tendon during his qualifying heat, then finished fifth on "afm power and guts," in a performance the American media called "un- believable." Or consider the English runner David Moor-

Brazilians like to assign blame to athletes who fail them.

croft. His last-place finish in the finals of the 5,000 meter run served as the opening human interest story for the American film Sixteen Days of Glory, which focused on the fact that Moorcroft (whose previously set world rec- ord survived the 1984 Olympics) had been plagued with a litany of illnesses and injuries. Moorcroft ran well in qualifying, then faltered during the finals because of leg pain. Realizing that he would finish last, Moorcroft's per- sonal triumph was completing the race without being lapped by the winner. He accomplished that goal, and finished his "long painful journey" with "pride" and "ho- nor," according to the film.

Despite its characteristic focus on doing, American culture does not insist that individuals can fully control outcomes, and it is not as necessary as it is in Brazil for people to explain their own failures. As a result, the American press gives little space to unsuccessful athletes' explanations for less than optimal performances. The Brazilian media, in contrast, feel it necessary to assign fault for failure, and this usually means blaming the ath- lete(s). To avert this, Brazilian athletes try to find culturally appropriate excuses. This contrast in fault-find- ing reflects a combination of factors: the lesser pressure placed on any given American athlete to win for his coun- try, recognition of the role of chance, and the sheer number of American successes—rendering discussions of failures somewhat ungenerous. Americans may also be more optimistic than Brazilians, preferring to focus on "the thrill of victory" rather than "the agony of defeat." Indeed, the American press talks much more about the injuries and illnesses of the victors and finishers than those of the losers and quitters. Thus, American culture, applied to sports, uses poor health not mainly as an ex- cuse, but as an obstacle for individuals to overcome, as in the Moffet and Moorcroft cases.

Illustrating the supreme American value of achieving against the odds is a 1984 Newsweek article by Pete Ax-

helm. "On very special occasions, there appears a quality in sport that defies all plans and diagrams. The athlete's "quest" is a "moving celebration of the potential of the human spirit," the article continued. Near Hollywood, the dream capital of an achievement-oriented society, the American athletes who stood on the victors' stand in sum- mer 1984, displaying their medals, may have felt like Star Wars heroes, living a dream, fulfilling a quest, hurdling

' obstacles, winning out on their own. The closing week of the Olympics "was given to surprises of the spirit." After the 1980 boycott it had not been easy for Americans to return to their grinding training schedules. "I wasn't sure if the sacrifices were worth it," said swimmer Nancy Hogshead. But, proclaimed Axhelm, in the mood kindled in Los Angeles, athletes demonstrated that they could not merely endure, but overcome.

While the Americans spoke of spirit, dreams, quests, and victories, Brazilian television found humor in failure, as chronicled in a montage of Olynipic mistakes—prat- falls and stumbles by riders, weightlifters, and runners— which ABC distributed along with its documentary footage. In the United States these "lighter moments" were used to illustrate that stunts are not as easy as the best performers make them seem, and that no matter how hard an athlete has trained, the unexpected can always happen, sometimes affecting the final result. In Brazil, the pratfalls were hugely popular on the nightly news. First, they showed the nation that people besides Brazilians could make Olympic mistakes. The film conveyed a sec- ond, less explicit, message. It suggested the futility of try- ing, or even hoping, to win in a cultural universe in which chances for success are so limited.

Cross-cultural comparison shows that a focus on team sports, records, and winning is not the most certain route to international sports success. It raises the question of whether the United States Olympic Committee might better have invited a successful runner, swimmer, diver, gymnast, or skater to head its panel, rather than one of our nation's best-known advocates of winning at any cost, n

READINGS SUGGESTED BY THE AUTHOR: DaMatta, Roberto. Carnavais, Malandros, e Herdis: Para Uma

Sociologia do Diiema Brasiiiero (third edition). Rio de Janeiro: Zahar, 1981.

Kottak, Conrad Phillip. Culturai Anthropology {(ourth edition). New York: Random House, 1987.

Kottak Conrad P., eds. Researching American Culture: A Guide for Student Anthropologists. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1982.

Wagley, Charles. An Introduction to Brazil (revised edition). New York: Columbia University Press; 1971.

Conrad Phillip Kottak is professor of anthropology at the Univer- sity of Michigan, Ann Arbor, where he has taught since 1968. His first field research in Brazil was in 1962. His many publications include Assault on Paradise: Social Change in a Brazilian Village and Anthropology: The Exploration of Human Diversity.