Faced with an Olympics in the big, fat, seemingly significant year 2000, it is tempting to me to probe the very origins of sport itself: to follow the bizarre clues of modern athletics back to their rationally necessary source. Frankly, I find the whole thing begging for an explanation. Why, after all, is it that people dedicate the whole of their youth and vigor to flipping, flying, and spinning around on a certain set of parallel bars or kicking, throwing, chasing, catching, and running with a certain type of ball? I understand bridge building. It makes perfect sense to me. I understand bricklaying, data entry, education and agriculture. It makes sense to me for people to want to excel at these endeavors, and, in fact, I think it is fairly reasonable to be excited by their accomplishments. “Three cheers for the marvelous bricklayers! Their excellence has resulted in sturdier, safer and generally more congenial homes!” Does it make sense to similarly root for the table tennicians? Their excellence has resulted in what? Little plastic spheroids being pelted about with more consistent speed and accuracy? Hooray. Yet look reader; look at where the cheering masses congregate. The 23rd Olympiad of Bricklaying has come and gone without drawing a crowd of over 100, while I sit in the middle of an entire metropolis twisting itself into pretzels trying accommodate the javalin-chuckers, floor-routiners, spheroid-kickers and their loyal hordes of well-wishers. Can one help but ask what has made us desire to be so incredibly good at activities that are so incredibly worthless? And, perhaps more importantly, why are we all so interested in watching year after year, Olympics after Olympics, this functionless struggle? To answer this question I implore you to turn your minds to the opening pages of your anthropology textbooks. Imagine the human animal in its rawest state, untainted yet by the stain of civilization or sport. Surely, women and men wholly stripped of the coddling modern conveniences provide face a world full of challenges: the sting of hunger, the oppression of the elements, the bite of the cursed saber-toothed tiger, and beers that either taste great or are less filling, but are never both. Humans, though, being a plucky breed, lock themselves in mortal combat against these challenges. A healthy contempt for Mother Nature is born and humans fight back. Agriculture is developed, homes are constructed, spears are fashioned, and breweries incorporate mountain-freshness all in spite of, and out of spite for, Gaia and her scourges. Note that in this combative state, people rarely sit around and conjecture about the true path to self-actualization. Little time is spent “finding oneself.” In these conditions the goal of life is, well, more life. Some win, and some lose, but at least the object is clear. But one day, Jane and Dick Neanderthal find themselves staring outside the window of a cozy split-level cave, wrapped warmly and fashionably in the hides of saber-toothed tigers, with more than enough mastodon cutlets in the icebox. The proto-husband turns to his proto-wife, sighs, and grunts, “You know honey, living just isn’t a challenge any more.” Instead of reveling in their triumph over nature, as they should, the two get bored. For the first time in history, people feel the curse of victory. Without the struggle for survival there is a gaping void of purpose. People, idiots that they are, begin asking, “What does it all mean?” “What are we here for?” A new challenge is needed. A fresh way to win is called for by the irrepressible spirit of competition. The answer to the problem: sports. We fought for survival on Nature’s terms the first time and we beat Her at her own game. Now it’s our turn to make the rules, and, out of desperation in our search to find some way, any way, to make our lives meaningful, we are going to make them as random and as stupid as we possibly can. Jousting, Pole-vaulting, Bowling, Biathalonning, Mexican Belly-wrestling: all forums for Humans v Nature, Round 2. We have proven we can manage to overcome most challenges that Nature has set in front of us. Now, through athletics, we are going to search out those challenges She never thought we’d bother to find. Sports give us a way to keep fighting, even if we really don’t need to, in ways that make no sense at all. So, the next time you hear a football fan say to his mates, “Hot damn compatriots! The participants representing, but not necessarily hailing from, our particular geographical area surely excelled to the zenith within the totally arbitrary rules of that particular sport!” or, during the Olympic table tennis final, see a father turn to his son and comment, “Golly Junior, isn’t it fantastic to be part of a species that can bounce a little plastic ball around on a table with such speed and precision!” don’t bother to ask why we get so excited about excellence in endeavors that have no real value whatsoever. Don’t ask questions; just appreciate the fact that people can do some colossally worthless things colossally well. Huzzah for humanity!