Igor Akinfeev, goalkeeper, Russian national team, anticipating a corner kick

                      (credit: Manfred Werner - Tsui, via Wikimedia Commons)

Now to enlighten ourselves, let’s illustrate how the claims about human free will that moral realism is founded on are supported by evidence in the realm of sport.

It is assumed in any sport worthy of the name that the outcome of the match is not predetermined. That for the contestants involved, whether they be teams or individuals, there is some chance from the outset of the match of either of them winning the contest. That is implied by the words “sport” and “sporting”. The athletes on both sides have a "sporting chance". 

Implicit in these terms is the assumption that athletes freely choose their actions. Those actions are not due merely to chains of events that came before this arena and this contest. Freely chosen decisions underlie the athletes' movements, moment by moment. Some actions will be performed better because of superior ability to read the movements of opponents, and to handle a ball, puck, etc. And superior ability to run, dodge, duck, skate, etc. And especially superior skills in deciding and executing movements, second by second, in play. Freely chosen acts on both sides of the contest - interacting - is what makes sport fun. 

                                

                                                                John Barrymore as Hamlet 

                                (credit: By Francis Bergman, via Wikimedia Commons)

When the outcome of a planned set of human actions is already known to a high degree of likelihood, this kind of activity is usually called a “performing art”. Plays, ballets, operas, symphonies, concerts, etc. are in this category. And we attend performing arts presentations with a totally different mindset than we do sporting events. We know that Hamlet is going to die. The fascination lies in watching how his story will unfold and in gaining insights that the actors, if they are good, will give us into human lives and how we may live ours better.

But the intention of a sports match is to entertain viewers with the uncertainty of the events that take place. 

It is the element of uncertainty in the outcome that makes crowds attend and, in fact, makes a sport a "sport". Fans get to watch a test of teamwork, endurance,  skills, etc. in which the individual or team that shows superior levels of each of those traits will likely win the contest. Even then, the outcome, if this is really a sport, can be affected by unforeseen and unforeseeable circumstances. “The rain started to pour down late in the second half and our star fullback broke his ankle four minutes before the buzzer. We lost by one point. But next time, there won’t be any rain to save those undeserving, arrogant clods on that beastly team!!”

It is also interesting to note that only the combative sports pit one human directly against another. In most sports, there is an object that the athletes will be trying to steer and launch, by foot, hand, etc. toward the opponents' goal or court. In short, what the athletes will be testing is their skill at manipulating/controlling some material thing. 

Balls and pucks and badminton birds are objects; they do not have free will. Humans are free. If the object is at about our level of resolution, we can learn to bandy it about in thousands of subtle ways. 

An object is driven here and there only by entropy and quantum uncertainty, the forces of Physics, until it comes under the domain of an animal or a human being. Life forms playing with things - humans with balls, otters with stones, dogs with rubber bones, cats with catnip bags - in each of these pictures, we can see the sharp contrast between the thing, numb and dead, being manipulated, and the being, alive and active, doing the manipulating. 

In short, what is being demonstrated in sport is our mastery of things. Stuff. The matter of the universe. Fascinating for us to watch. We know that frequently, things best us. Avalanches. Tornadoes. Tsunamis. Jacket zippers. But sometimes, in some arenas, we make them do what we want. "Did you see that shot!!" The whole picture makes no sense if we don't assume human freedom is real. 

                

                            soccer officials (referee Szymon Marciniak, center) 

                       (credit: Oleg Bkhambri (Voltmetro), Wikimedia Commons)

The assumption that humans have free will is also present in how officials – refs, umpires, and so on – call the game. Did that defender intend to hurt that opposing player when the defender performed his last tackle? Officials almost always have played the game that they are officiating. Even more importantly, they have experience of seeing how human bodies move. “Look at the replay on the monitor,” says the referee. “That man’s elbow is high. See how he moves that arm. He chose to perform an action intended to injure. He’s out of this game!”

Coaches assume free will. “That number 7 is your check, Hank. Now go out there and shut his scoring down.” "Watch for their trap play, guys. Support!!"  

Players assume free will: “I hate endurance training too, but coach is right. We can’t win if we can’t last the full hour. So we run laps." "Remember how they run their breakout patterns. We want to win, so we prepare. We read their plays and stop them cold.” 

   

                                                   Quarterback, Tom Brady 

                             (credit: Andrew Campbell, via Wikimedia Commons)

Even fans assume free will. “Did you see that check?! They’re trying to injure Harry!!” "Tom is so good at reading defenses. He can pick which receiver will be open in under two seconds. And his short pass is on the numbers every time." 

The assumption of free will underlies sport. As in history, education, the law, politics, and pretty much every realm of human endeavor, that assumption has been absorbed by almost all folk to be a legitimate assumption. 

That assumption is the same one that is followed when we do Science or even just live our everyday lives. Centuries of practice have shown us that the assumption works. Under it, we get things done, plan, assign responsibility and so on. Without it, we would not get anything done. We’d sit and mope and wait for the end.

The bottom line in sport, and in life, is this: we want to get on with it. Assuming that we have free will lets us do so. Then, the evidence of experience confirms more and more that our choice was a good one. Assuming that we have free will is necessary to our survival because the assumption enables us to act, multiply, and flourish. The alternative starting assumption does not.  

That dirty player had free will. He deserved his punishment. We have free will. If we’re decent folk, and if we act as if we do have free will, we reduce the risk that events will harm us and increase the odds that they will turn out well for us. So we pay attention to how our world works, remember, learn, use our knowledge, and act to avoid the world’s pitfalls and find its fruit trees and fresh water springs.  

The assumption that we have no free will leads us to ...stagnation. Sport and life, under that assumption, become absurd. Even my writing and your reading these lines become absurd. 

But they are not. 

In the shadow of the mushroom cloud, nevertheless, have a sportsmanlike day.

   

                       Ronaldo helping injured Cavani off field, World Cup, 2018

                                    (credit: Jorge Silva, Reuters) (https://on.rt.com/98un)