One of the assumptions made about stadium/sports venue tours and sport museums is that they have appeal to both dedicated supporters and the merely curious. In many ways, the best tours and museums strike a balance between providing an in-depth experience for the most knowledgable fan without alienating the non-supporter. The best result can be to make the supporter more supportive, and the non-supporter a fan.
The Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Museum, along with the tour of the venue, do a remarkable job of providing something of value to the tennis fan, as well as pushing the non-fan to follow the sport. The fact that Wimbledon is one of a handful of sporting venues that are synonymous with a sport (along with places like Churchill Downs for horse racing, or Lord’s for cricket) means that they espouse a responsibility not just for the venue and its wellbeing, but the sport as a whole. A similar notion, where a venue’s heritage experiences were felt to have larger purposes, was mentioned to me by a manager at Twickenham Stadium where he felt that the purpose of the venue’s tour and museum were not just to tell people about Twickenham but to ignite or reaffirm their love for rugby regardless of where they live. In this, both the tour and museum at Wimbledon are often about much more than Wimbledon.
Of course, one of the remarkable aspects in visiting Wimbledon for the first time is actually just how compact the entire venue is. This is something I have experienced visiting many infamous sporting venues – that the expectation of a venue noticeably removed from the rest of the surrounding geography is often not the reality. It’s not that Wimbledon is not noticeable from the surrounding landscape, but perhaps more that you might actually miss it unless you were specifically looking for it.
The tour itself mirrors many other sport stadium tours, in that it begins in the gift shop and includes stops such as the media rooms and press conference room, check-in location for the players (in lieu of visiting the locker room), and Centre Court. The tour narrative balanced history, traditions, logistics and was relatively inclusive for both dedicated tennis fans and non-tennis watchers alike. For example, when describing particular matches and players, the narrative tended towards the infamous rather than the arcane. The court where the Isner-Mahut marathon match took place, for example, was a good introduction to both the side courts as well as including something that both tennis and non-tennis fans knew and could understand. Similarly, the anecdotes were largely related to the relatively recent and famous players such as Federer, Williams, Sampras, and so on. Interestingly, the site also keeps the bracket and scores up for the entire year following The Championship, perhaps for the purposes of the tours but also maybe a nod to the prestige of winning the tournament.
There were two relatively surprising elements to the tour narrative. The first was that our guide, though largely friendly, demonstrated frustration and agitation with visitor questions. I am not sure if this was a personality quirk, something to do with scheduling (in terms of not running into other tour groups), or that he felt (or was instructed) that he could not deviate from a scripted tour narrative. In any event, even the most innocent questions (for example, about how to attend the tournament) were dismissed, often quite sharply. Granted, most of the questions were answered throughout the tour narrative, but it was extremely odd that a guide would not welcome genuine interest and curiosity about the venue and its history. Secondly, the the tour narrative was scripted as such to be quite self-conscious about the exclusivity of the tournament and venue. The guide spent an enormous amount of time discussing that the main priority of the venue managers was to promote tennis, and not to acquire more wealth. Specifically, the fact that regular people could queue each morning and purchase grounds passes for only £25, or that visitors could bring their own food and drink to the tournament rather than buying on-site, or that people who had dedicated their lives to the promotion of tennis (the example of a youth tennis instructor from “the north of England” was frequently used) were more likely to gain membership than the wealthiest of bankers with no tennis background, bolstered the venue’s egalitarian bonafides. Needless to say, much like other infamous sporting venues (passing through the “gates” of Augusta National golf club comes to mind), the Wimbledon tour narrative is rife with religious symbolism (“eye of a needle” etc.)
The Lawn Tennis Museum offered an excellent companion to the venue tour. Although there were anticipated aspects to the displays and artefacts, including history of the sport, development of equipment technology, trophies, and memorabilia from past women’s and men’s champions, two aspects stood out. The first was the museum’s use of technology, including holograms – in this case, of John McEnroe talking about playing at Wimbledon as well as some of his famous matches – and a VR exhibit that puts the visitor at Centre Court during both last year’s women’s and men’s finals. One of the challenges of places like Wimbledon, which are famous for particular annual events and which, more often than not, are very exclusive, is providing visitors something of an experience of attending or playing-at an event Wimbledon. As such, the museum does a good job of being both intellectually and sensually engaging in its interpretation, using its space to not only tell “what it was” but “what it is like”.
One of the welcome exhibits was one about media broadcasts of Wimbledon. In fact, I feel that one of the overlooked aspects of sport heritage is the role of media, in particular that much of our own, individual sport heritages are created not through attending sporting events themselves but listening to/watching them at home with friends and family. Though the exhibit was ostensibly recognizing the BBC’s history of broadcasting the tournament, there was also a section about personal memories of listening to or watching the tournament during the English summer. The fact that some of the most ardent tennis fans will have never actually attended The Championships, though nevertheless see it as part of their own summer traditions, is something that sports museums need to explore in greater detail, and that sport heritage research ought to explore further.
Despite a few strange developments on the tour, I will admit to becoming quite enamoured with Wimbledon, The Championships, and tennis as a whole after my visit there. I am hardly a tennis aficionado, and while I will sometimes tune into a few of the matches during a major tournament, I find that after my visit to Wimbledon I am not only anticipating this year’s tournament even more, I find that I am wanting to follow (and even attempt to play) the sport more than I did before.
Defining what necessarily qualifies as “sport” is as old as the institution of sport. Huw Richards, in his 2007 book about the history of rugby union, argues that a sport – in essence – is “born” when its rules are codified and played by others in different locations using those same rules. Tom Hinch and James Higham, in defining sport within tourism, define sport as having clearly defined rules, uncertain outcomes, competitive and contest based, playful or incorporating a sense of play, and physical or kinaesthetic in nature. Certainly, many a barstool argument has been waged over whether auto racing or poker or professional wrestling is a sport. Seemingly, discourse also plays a role. If something is called sport, and perhaps is covered by sports media, does it then become sport?
However, what do we make of “sport” from ancient or medieval worlds. Could we call cock fighting, bear bating, and chariot racing, types of sports – and, for the purposes and scope of this blog – sport heritage? Do they fit more into forms of leisure and recreation heritage rather than sport, considered in a similar vein to other forms of gaming such as dice?
Delineating what is – and, perhaps, is not – sport heritage is a challenge. Much of what is included in ancient and medieval sport most likely would have had an understood – if highly localized – set of rules, and certainly would have had a clearly defined winner and loser. That said, its not as if there were governing bodies per se for these practices, and it would seem that the rules would vary from place to place – so codification and transferability may be in question. Similarly, the fact that many also include animals – often in life or death situations – it is a wonder whether one could call, for example, bear bating a form of play (particularly for the bear) or if the participants had any agency in their participation. That said, the discursive use and practice of both sport heritage – in particular heritage researchers, promoters, and agencies – must give us pause for thought. Two medieval sport places in London, Cockpit Steps and Bear Gardens, are listed in Simon Inglis’ Played in London book – which is part of the English Heritage sport heritage project, Played in Britain. Similarly, the British Museum offers tours of “Sport in the Ancient World” specifically curating part of their collection as sport-based. While much of what we consider as sport heritage comes from the last two centuries, in large part because of codification, governance, and transferability, anything before this period raises questions about what we ought to include – or ignore – in our study and understanding of sport heritage.
This past weekend on April 15, Major League Baseball (MLB) celebrated the 70th anniversary of Jackie Robinson‘s debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers when he became the first African-American player in the big leagues in the modern era. The fact that it was the 70th anniversary was remarkable and included events like statue commemorations as well, although MLB does celebrate Robinson every season on April 15, most notably with all players wearing Robinson’s number 42 for games on that day. However, as many commentators noted, these commemorations and celebrations ignore much of Robinson’s story. In this, we see the differences between “History Jackie” and “Heritage Jackie,” though the perspectives might not be as far apart as they seem.
As scholars of heritage (and probably history as well) will tell you, history and heritage are different – they have different audiences, different purposes, and different outcomes. Sport historians are correct in pointing out that Robinson’s story is not a fable meant to reassure us, but rather is complex. In this, they ought to question the ways in which Robinson’s accomplishments are recognized today – particularly in what history is ignored. A critical heritage studies perspective would not necessarily ask what differs between the historical record and the contemporary commemorations, but rather why, by whom, and to what end Robinson is being remembered. This might include remembering (perhaps in a self-congratulatory way) the moment when something that happened on a baseball field transcended the sport itself, the need to attract African-Americans to play baseball, and even selling merchandise based on the commemorations. The historical perspective is about the past, and the heritage perspective is about the present and future, though they almost certainly inform one another.
This is not to suggest that MLB should stop recognizing Robinson every April 15. In fact, from my perspective, it is one of the best things that MLB does. That said, perhaps the commemorations ought to include more public history, where the complex story of Robinson is translated for a general audience. Similarly, what does Robinson’s story tell us about what other issues we have to address, besides baseball enrolment and selling more tickets and merchandise (which primarily helps MLB)? Robinson undoubtedly continues to serve as an inspiration – but what else might his legacy inspire baseball and its fans to do? In this, “History Jackie” and “Heritage Jackie” might become more aligned towards not only a fuller understanding of the past, but where that past takes us today and tomorrow.
This past weekend, I had the opportunity to attend a Charlotte Hornets basketball game at the Spectrum Center (formerly the Time Warner Cable Arena). I had been to the arena on a few occasions since moving to the Carolinas in 2009, seeing both basketball games and minor league hockey games at the venue over the years. This particular trip was mainly about taking my five-year-old son to his first NBA game and, given that the game was on a Sunday afternoon and against the Phoenix Suns (who are not the most marketable opponent) it was an affordable weekend outing.
Despite having been to the arena on several occasions, I hadn’t stopped to think about the many different representations – and layers – of sport heritage on display at the venue. For example, in the entrance foyer there is a large mural depicting various teams and players from (I would assume) college basketball in North Carolina. Interestingly, not only was there a representation of basketball heritage that wasn’t from the professional ranks, much of the mural was dedicated to women’s basketball. Many arenas tend represent the heritage and history of the current tenant – such as at Rogers Place in Edmonton, they tend to be about famous players and championships – whereas this heritage mural not only was not about the Hornets/Bobcats, it had college sports, women’s sports and, more specifically, African American women’s basketball. From the arena’s website, the mural is described as “the History of Basketball in the Piedmont and the action of the game.” All heritage representations are as much about exclusion as inclusion, so it is interesting that many different forms and types of sport heritage that are often excluded are explicitly included in this mural:
In a similar vein, most sport heritages – particularly at venues – tend to be celebratory (again, representing famous moments and championships, etc.) One of the more interesting heritage displays at the arena was the history of professional basketball teams in Charlotte. Of course, many facilities will link the current team with teams from previous eras. The interesting aspect of these displays is that many of the teams that were represented had, for lack of a better term, ignominious histories – in that they ceased operations or were relocated to other cities. Again, the fact that there was at least a bit of a “warts and all” acknowledgment of the history of professional basketball in Charlotte was both welcome and surprising.
Finally, there are the multiple and layered heritage narratives with the Hornets nickname. Charlotte’s first incarnation of NBA basketball were known as the Hornets, and when the team moved to New Orleans in 2002 – taking the name with them. Charlotte regained their NBA franchise in 2004 but, as the “Hornets” name was still being used in New Orleans, the new franchise called themselves the Bobcats. Only in 2014 did the Hornets moniker return, so there is a (as myself and Sean Gammon termed it) “heritage of sport” association with the name. Similarly, the Hornets name was used in minor league baseball in the city for many years as well.
However, it also has a broader association too, as the Hornets name is associated with the city’s resistance to the British in the Revolutionary War. In particular, according the to the Mecklenburg Historical Association (Charlotte is located in Mecklenburg County) “Lord Cornwallis came to Charlotte in the fall of 1780 on his way to destroy the Continental Army, but he only stayed sixteen days. The local partisans were just too hot for him, and he later referred to Charlotte as ‘A Hornet’s Nest of Rebellion.'” Although there is nothing at the arena that necessarily denotes the association between the team’s name and the Revolutionary War, it is assumed that for many Hornets fans there is a dual heritage relationship: both that of the city’s sport heritage as well as its broader identity in American history.
Although the many sport heritage representations at Spectrum Center are, ultimately, nostalgic if not celebratory, the forms and types of heritage were different than many similar venues that I have experienced. Celebrating and recognizing different types and forms of sport heritage – and not merely myopically reflecting the past of the current franchise – provides a unique form of sport heritage. In many ways, it felt more like a celebration of basketball in Charlotte rather than just using heritage as another form of advertisement and promotion. Even the heritage markers that were sponsored had a surprising amount of depth and were not simply about selling jerseys and t-shirts. Given that I went to the game with a five-year-old, I didn’t have the freedom to explore the venue’s heritage representations in more detail (although, I did notice that there were many displays simply about the city itself, and not necessarily linked to basketball or sport). However, I think the Spectrum Center provides a good template for other arenas and sports facilities looking to represent their sporting past.
Over the last few months, I have been involved in the development of exciting project involving the use of sport heritage in reminiscence therapy. In particular, the project is developing, implementing, and evaluating a non-pharmacological, sports-based reminiscence therapy kit and protocols based on Clemson football’s history and heritage for use at assisted living and memory care facilities in upstate South Carolina. This project was inspired by programs like the Sporting Memories Network in the UK, and hopes to use the local passion for college football in a healthcare setting. It is sponsored by the Brooks Sports Science Institute at Clemson University.
On this project, I am working with one of my fellow professors, a recreational therapist, two wonderful recreational therapy graduate students, and Clemson’s football historian. Not being a recreational therapist, it has been a wonderful learning experience for me to understand how sport heritage – and its material culture – might be used to help people with memory issues such as dementia. We are at the stage where we have developed some draft session protocols based on sport heritage themes (such as famous games) and locating materials to use in our reminiscence therapy kit. We will soon be receiving feedback from reminiscence therapy experts on our sessions, as well as reaching out to a local care facility to receive their thoughts and feedback about this program. We also have to submit an application to our institutional review board to make certain our project is ethically sound. We are hoping to run the program over a 6-8 week period over the summer.
Thus far, I think the biggest learning experience I have gleaned from this project so far (besides learning about recreational therapy) is understanding what “Clemson football heritage” actually means. Of course, there are the on-field exploits of the team – most recently winning the National Championship in January – but also how the socialization component of college football has changed. We tend to think of it now mostly in terms of tailgating – which involves grilling, and games, and normally alcohol – but many of the social components of football in the 1950s and 1960s at Clemson was about post-game dances, bringing a date to the game, and more informal forms of tailgating – which was often a bucket of chicken, and normally no alcohol. We have concluded that understanding and representing both the heritage and memories of sporting artifacts (such as the stadium, the games) should be balanced with the memories of the social aspects surrounding the games (something discussed in research by Fairley and Gammon, and Cho et al.)
As I mentioned in a post last month, I am currently working on an authored book about sport heritage. The manuscript is due to the publisher in Fall 2018, so I have been busy developing chapter outlines and drafts. The book will broadly have four sections based on the sport heritage typology (tangible immovable sport heritage, tangible movable sport heritage, intangible sport heritage, and sport heritage goods and services) which was first developed by Sean Gammon and I in 2005 and later revisited in 2016. In addition, there will be full introductory and concluding chapters in large part based on the ideas of “heritage of sport/sport as heritage.” In any event, it is hoped that I will have a skeleton draft of the book (40-50k words) by August.
One of the aspects of the book which will be completed this summer are additional illustrations and examples of sport heritage, both in terms of type and geography. I will be undertaking a couple of trips to the UK and to other parts of the USA later this year to get some additional topical examples (including sport heritage landscapes, sport heritage institutions, and dissonant or subaltern sport heritages, among others). I have also asked students and colleagues from other parts of the world to send me additional representations of sport heritage in order to make the book, as best as possible, applicable to as many regions as possible. Of course, I would welcome readers of this blog to also submit representations of sport heritage from your part of the world!
I have also noticed since I started writing the book just how many more forms and types of sport heritage I see. While perhaps before I might mentality note these examples for teaching or a manuscript, I find now that I document them much more than I did before. For example, while passing through Chicago’s OHare International Airport last month, I noticed just how much of this Cubs theme restaurant is decorated by symbols of heritage. Even the souvenir stand outside of the restaurant was shaped like Wrigley Field! Heritage is a commodity, we know, and sport heritage seems to be a particularly powerful (and lucrative) one. Theme restaurants are an interesting case of both a sport heritage good and service, as well as having quasi museum-like qualities as well.
I managed to visit the new home arena of the Edmonton Oilers, Rogers Place, twice this week for two separate games. Rogers Place replaced the Coliseum, a building that was not entirely beloved but did play host to numerous important games and events – in particular, saw Gretzky and the 80s-era Oilers win five Stanley Cup championships in seven years. While the Coliseum was not far from the city core, Rogers Place is directly in downtown Edmonton and includes a surrounding entertainment space called “Ice District” which is largely still under construction.
From a heritage standpoint, there are a few attempts to give Rogers Place a sense of continuity and legacy – in particular, with the “Glory Years” of the 1980s. There are numerous street-level displays commemorating past Hall of Fame players and championship seasons.
A statue of Wayne Gretzky, that stood in front of the Coliseum since 1988, has been relocated to Rogers Place and now sits in front of an Oilers Hall of Fame (which also appears to double as a press conference room and event rental space). It appears that there is no public access to the hall of fame.
Inside the building there are a few large stylized photos of past Oilers, focusing again mainly on the 1980s championship-era teams.
There were a few more contemporary photos from more recent teams, including current players, but the heritage focus is very time specific. Popular Oilers from other eras – such as Tommy Salo, Curtis Joseph, Kelly Buchberger, Doug Weight, and Jason Smith – do not appear to be represented, at least in spaces accessible to fans. Given that a fan would have to be at least 35 – and probably over 40 – to have any direct memory of the 80s teams, the choice is a curious one. Furthermore, the Oilers have a pre-NHL heritage from when they played in the now-defunct WHL and which doesn’t appear to be represented. In addition, the other main tenant of Rogers Place is the Edmonton Oil Kings, a major junior hockey club with a long history of success. However, outside of championship banners, there doesn’t appear to be any recognition of that team’s heritage.
One welcome non-sport heritage touch are that there are several public artworks in the building, most noticeably Alex Janvier’s Tsq Tsq Ke K’e (Iron Foot Place) mural at the front entrance.
As a sporting venue, Rogers Place is a mix of some of the best and some of the worst of sports stadiums. The design and many of the spaces in the arena are impressive. However, a lack of toilet facilities, public water fountains, congestion in concourse spaces, and extraordinarily uncomfortable seating in the upper levels, makes viewing a game there as a mixed experience at best. Indeed, the difference between sitting in the upper and lower levels is as extreme as I’ve experienced at a sporting venue.