To an avid sports fan, the consecutive digits 6,4 and 170 simply do not register as a math quandary that asks you to list the next following number in the pattern. Instead, they have an immediate correlation to the height and weight of an athlete. These two sets of numbers carry such importance that it is worth examining the numerous situations in which these digits are exploited.
I can't recall the number of times I have watched sporting events with people that take a player's listed height and weight seriously. They cannot grasp the concept that there may be a remote chance these numbers are not completely accurate.
Organizations have been practicing this for years in order to present their players in the highest light, even if it means manipulating the truth.
For starters, I can attest to the altering of both my weight and height during high school. In the football season, I decided to add a few complimentary pounds to accompany both my name and height in the program. It was only natural to show I had added some muscle during the off-season, as I possessed the mentality that 190 pounds sounded more intimidating than a realistic 180.
On the contrary, when the basketball season replaced football, I suddenly lost those extra pounds. I transformed from a 190-pound linebacker into a 174-pound guard. Almost overnight, I doctored those numbers to create an image based on how people perceived those slight variations.
Also, for both sports, I felt I deserved an inch or two and went under the alias of 5'11'. This number was perfect for me because it put me slightly below the six-foot mark. At the same time, I was still in the general five -foot range which would keep anyone from becoming suspicious of my sudden growth spurt.
The magical number 5'11' in the sports world is the most over used and exploited. The one-inch difference between this number and an even six feet is catastrophic. You would laugh if I told you I was six feet tall, but at the same time, you would only question me if I told you I was 5'11'. This concept is similar to the 99-cent menus at fast foot restaurants. You think those items are a bargain at only 99 cents, but would you feel the same if they were a whole dollar?
Here at home, the men's basketball teams newest member, Tanner Bronson, is generously listed as 5'11' and 160 pounds. If you ever ran into him, you may have thought he was a high school junior on a visit. Though you may have been incorrect, your instincts have not fooled you. Those who measured Tanner have clearly given him three inches and an additional 25 pounds. His listings are almost as generous as Bo Ryan was in putting him on the team this year.
Football players, on the other hand, seem to take this to a new level. Packers run stopper Grady Jackson is listed as 340 pounds. I don't know if this was done as a joke, but Grady is on the verge of reaching the glorious weight few humans get to enjoy, 400 pounds. If the Packers chose to list his real weight of nearly 400 pounds, it would take away from the athlete that lies beneath those layers of hard-earned fat Grady has established over the years. But since they list him at 340, he still appears able to maintain a steady jog without succumbing to a heart attack.
The most apparent inconsistencies took place in the old days of the WWF. This organization wanted you to believe that the Undertaker was as tall as Shawn Bradley while weighing close to 500 pounds, and that the Road Warriors Hawk and Animal had a combined weight of 650 pounds. They were the masters of turning over-sized athletes into superhumans based on bloated numbers.
On the contrary, women athletes on this campus are not required to list their weight. As I find myself surfing www.uwbadgers.com to find the most attractive girl on the women's softball team, how can I get an accurate answer without their weight? Shouldn't our female athletes have to reveal this information? I was certain when I read over the Title IX stipulations last night before going to bed there was something that addressed this situation.
On a serious note, the height and weight of athletes are figures that separate Division I athletes from Division III athletes, as well as first-from seventh-round draft picks. A few pounds or inches here and there provide a way for recruiters to form opinions before they see the player in action. As a result, players must inflate to get noticed by the right people.
So the underlying message here is that you should not be ashamed if you find yourself playing with your height and weight, be it for your driver's license, a visit to the doctor or anything else in between. Athletes in all stages of the game should honor this tradition of changing your true self, as it is a victimless crime that can only benefit self-confidence. If you wake up tomorrow and want to drop a few pounds and add a few inches, go ahead-it's not a lie if you don't believe it.
Jon is a junior majoring in English and journalism. Tell him what you think: jrmcnamara@wisc.edu.
