It is perhaps the most common and at the same time most innocuous word in the English language. I used it three times in the previous sentence, once more in this sentence, and will probably use it a hundred times more before I close my laptop on this quasi-essay. Devoid of definition and connotation we toss it to the side, pay no attention as our eyes glance over it ready to digest the important words it often accompanies. It is merely a three letter word; a phonetically frustrating article that should trip more of us up than just Lloyd Christmas.
And yet in the world of sport, "the" can grant greatness and even immortality. Wayne Gretzky transformed from a star player, to a great one, to the Great One. The "the" deifies Gretzky in the hockey world. He lives alone as "The" Great One, a title no one else can hold now and forever, amen. "The" can trigger superlatives, Muhammad Ali as the Greatest of All Time, or it can separate one athlete from a distinguished group of others. For example, Babe Didrickson Zaharias and Babe Herman were two tremendous athletes of the twentieth century. Many consider Zaharias the greatest female athlete of all time, while Herman hit .324 in the big leagues and still holds several Dodgers hitting records. You say Babe and it could refer to either of them: "Babe was a great athlete, sure." But as soon as you put "the" in front, you can only be referring to one man. The Babe, Babe Ruth. "The" changes the scope of Babe from a variety of athletes who donned the nickname to a sports immortal, a man so great we still feel his presence nearly eighty years after his last home run.
Beyond immortality, "the" gives time and place to some of the most mundane words in sports. Catch: the act of controlling an airborne ball or puck, or throwing a ball back and forth between two people. The Catch: First definition: Willie Mays's over-the-shoulder catch on a 484 foot rocket hit by the Indians Vic Wertz in the 1954 World Series, often considered the greatest defensive play in baseball history. Second definition: Dwight Clark's game-winning acrobatic snaring of a Joe Montana pass gone awry in the back of the endzone in the NFC Championship against the Dallas Cowboys in 1982. Either definition works but both are made possible by "the." "The" brings connotations and emotions to common sports words. Say "catch" and get no reaction from fans, say "the catch" and watch one fan's face light up while another fan spews epithets. Try it with fumble vs. the fumble, big game vs. the big game, drive vs. the drive, and flying v vs. the flying v. "The" makes all the difference: immortality, time, place, and emotions. All from a three letter word.
Which brings me to my point and how all of this is relevant today. On the one year anniversary of Lebron taking his talents to South Beach I think about the Decision. Perhaps the greatest mistake Lebron made, or the worst decision made for him, was calling his tv special the Decision. Suddenly all of our emotions, mostly hate, towards Lebron got packed into those two words but rendered powerful because of "the." "Decision" can come and go in everyday conversation with no response. We continue to make decisions everyday, heck I made a decision to write this blog. We can talk about a decision, his decision, her decision, their decision, but as soon as we say "the Decision" it takes us to Lebron. And it always will. The Decision encompasses the legacy of Lebron's free agency; every emotion, all the outrage, burning jerseys, and braggadocio of Lebron's move. We will never forget it, and neither will sportsfans to come, because "the" precedes decision. It is a curse Lebron must live with, and many of us will continue to be annoyed by. In this case, "the" grants notoriety along with immortality. History will forget decisions but never "the Decision." And that is the power of "the."
-Dil
