The Rise of Social Media

Twenty years ago sport was just that. Sport. On the pitch business was done. Goals were scored. Blows were exchanged and fans rallied.

Off the field, players may well have lived the high life – enjoyed a few beers, relished the female attention and partied harder than their stakeholders thought pleasing. But that was the nature of the business and the harm was minimal.

These days elite athletes can’t step sideways without someone raising an eyebrow.

Their every move from shopping trips, dinner plans and the company they keep are tracked meticulously. Not just by gossip columns in print media, but by the general public on Twitter, Facebook and instant messaging.

Twenty years ago we had sporting legends. Immortals. In 2011 we have codes and codes of sport marred by controversy.

In fact it is hard to find a sport which boasts a clean public record among its elite athletes – from drink driving, sexual assaults and battery to racial vilification, damage to property and match fixing.

Twenty years ago all of these issues were probably just as prevalent as they are today. The only difference is the real time reporting available to the media was about a day slower than the immediate nature of today, and so much of that reporting relied on what was seen first-hand and how it was retold, often in a series of Chinese whispers.

These days the public seem to be more and more willing to report offenders. But to what avail?

As social media continues to develop, sporting stars are becoming less and less elite. There a few elite athletes, today, who will go down in history as immortals the same way Sir Donald Bradman AC, Pat Cash, Betty Cuthbert AM, Artie Beetson and Roy Cazaly have.

Todd Carney, Nate Myles and Frank-Paul Nu’uausala were found to be drinking on a Monday night after the NRL and their club received a tip off from the public. Sure they had broken a club enforced no-alcohol policy and abused the trust of their team mates, but legally they had done no wrong. What followed was weeks and pages of commentary and controversy which quite possibly could have been just as effectively dealt with privately by the club.

The list continues. Every weekend it is a new drama, and not just in Australian sport or in terms of
alcohol.

Think of Tiger Woods, Michael Clarke and Marion Jones, even the extreme Mike Tyson, whose careers have all been questioned and marred through controversy in their private lives.

What attributes will sporting stars, come legends, possess in the future?

When Michael Clarke’s relationship breakdown with Lara Bingle coincided with his form slump; when the St Kilda Football Club had to rally exceptionally hard for more than half the season to reform their game and image after a social media scandal and when Tiger Wood’s greatest achievements have been overshadowed by his indiscretions – how will we remember today’s athletes? As Twitter and other social networking tools break down the barrier between what was once deemed the ordinary and the extraordinary, the heroes and the fans, athletes are more readily putting all dimensions of their ‘ordinary’ life on show.

But are we willing to give them the leverage of life’s little enjoyments the greater public takes for granted without judgment?

Or will their well-paid status forever provide that barrier of cynical judgment?

There are two sides to all stories. If athletes performed to the best of their capabilities, behaved and fulfilled all that was expected of them they would face less criticism.

But despite how much anyone gets paid, and how greatly your job hinges on public image, it is hard to be in fine form all the time.

Where is the line between sport and commercialism? Between the old and the new? Between the ordinary and the extraordinary? I think it is a line which is fading. Rapidly.