There's Nothing in the Rules That Says a Dog Can't Play Basketball

Everyone loves stories. You do, I do. Presumably, so did Saddam Hussein, but there's no way to confirm that now, except to say that storytelling is one of the few aspects that defines us as human beings (or, in Saddam's case reasonable facsimiles thereof) and truly separates man from beast. But what would you say if I told you there were only a handful of different stories actually being told. Well, if you paid attention in high school English, I don't expect you'll be too impressed with that declaration, but everyone should strap in anyway, 'cause we're all about to learn some shit.

To be honest, it's a pretty simple concept. Stories arise from conflict, usually between two parties: a protagonist, and an antagonist, a series of antagonists, or sometimes an inconveniently placed coffee table (inanimatagonist!). But the truth is, there are only a small handful of categories of conflict around which we base our stories. Traditionally, these are broadly defined as Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Society, Man vs. Technology, Man vs. God, Man vs. Fate, and Man vs. Self, any of which is a more than capable vessel with which to convey your story. Most of these categories have remained the same for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, ever since the first caveman told an enraptured audience about the time Ogg clubbed Ugg for eating more than his share of the brontosaurus. Or something. I'm not a dinosaur scientist.

But in the closing decade of the 20th century (that is the late 1990s), actual scienticians and imagineers working overtime in the Walt Disney story refineries made a breakthrough discovery of what we now know to be the fabled eighth category. This newly discovered category would go on to become one of the most culturally and scientifically important in the history of writing. Though it should need no introduction, I'm talking of course about Animal Plays Professional Sport.

"But wait, you idiot," you're thinking, and kind of harshly, I might add, "doesn't that story just slot neatly into one of the other categories, like Man vs. Nature, or Man vs. Society?" And you could be forgiven for that line of thinking. You won't. But you could be. To so flippantly dismiss such stories is to do a great injustice to such classics of the genre as Air Bud, MVP: Most Valuable Primate, and of course, the illustrious Air Bud 2: Golden Receiver. Your argument would get a failing grade in this new metaphor I've decided on where I am a teacher, and you are my student. Even a cursory glance at the material will inform you that these stories cannot be so easily defined without the invention of an entirely new category. You ignorant fool!

Look, if we can just rap for a minute (now I'm the "cool" "teacher"), I need you to understand that these categories are very rigidly defined. I don't make the rules, chief, I just enforce them. Man vs Nature, for example, is historically defined as "an external struggle positioning the hero against an animal or force of nature, such as a storm, or tornado, or snow" [Wikipedia: "Conflict (narrative)"]. Now, I think it's pretty obvious to say that in the case of a literary classic such as Air Bud 3: World Pup, the animal is almost certainly the hero. I haven't seen it, but I feel confident in arguing that the titular "Air Bud" is a dog with a penchant for soccer who must overcome decades, maybe centuries of prejudice, in order to fulfill his dream of winning the FIFA World Cup. I have to assume, but really, I think that's a pretty safe bet to make, based on the DVD cover of a dog photoshopped to appear as though it's kicking a soccer ball.

"But wait!" you interject again, because you think for some reason this is a conversation, "certainly that would make this story a case of Man vs. Society, like I suggested above in an earlier rhetorical aside! 'Cause, like, society's keeping that dog down, maaaaan." It's not though, stupid. Idiot. Because if you had been paying attention, way back at the beginning of the article, or even in the middle of your own stupid question, you'd notice that that type of conflict is called Man vs. Society. Is a dog—Do you think a dog can be a man? Is that—You don't actually—Dogs walk on all fours and poop on the lawn, and yes, that sounds like the life, I agree, but that is actually what makes a dog an animal (alongside their collective indifference to storytelling in the absence of treats and belly rubs). At best, this would be a case of Animal vs. Society, and if we're just going to start redefining categories all willy-nilly, and what have you, then, frankly, I don't know what we're even doing here. You get an F-minus-minus, a frowny-face sticker, and a "see me after class," because we're back on that metaphor again, and also because Jesus Christ, come ON!

Anyway, one of the aforementioned Airs Bud (Editor's Note: Find out if they are different dogs) learns to play soccer, and despite some presumably baffled officials, and maybe a team full of scheming bad guys, the pooch wins the big game for his team, and everyone celebrates, because the dog brought them together, repairing familial rifts in the process, etc. Obviously, the best part of the movie comes from the obligatory scene when the dog (Air Bud) first runs on to the field of play, and every one at the game gasps in shock. A dog?! On the field of sport! How ludicrous even to consider! Cue popped monocles, and fainting suburban housewives. Subsequently, the soccer umpire (or 'referee,' if you will) will stop play, and demand this four-legged insult to the sport be removed from the game. Just as all seems lost, and the movie's runtime seems conspicuously shorter than advertised, a brave young hero speaks up. "Wait a minute! There's nothing in the rules that says a dog can't play soccer!"

And by god, they're right! There is nothing in the rulebook that says a dog can't play soccer! This is because in the real world, such a concept is too stupid to even consider, and it's generally considered an unspoken agreement between literally anyone and everyone involved in the entire process from beginning to end. Soccer is a sport by and for humans and only humans. They shouldn't even have to cite a regulation to kick that dog out, and maybe even have it humanely destroyed. (I'm not saying they should, but we live in a bleak, cruel hell where every day is a year, and a clown is in charge.) And good thing they don't, either, because otherwise we wouldn't have a movie. So rather than let everyone leave early, and just sort of call it a day over at the Air Bud 3 shoot, they bravely soldiered on, and compiled 83 minutes of footage into a modern masterpiece. And thank god for that. Air Bud 3 may be the second sequel to a movie set in a universe where a dog keeps being reluctantly allowed to play organized sports, but god bless those brave referees who keep standing up in the face of this madness. They have to know they're only delaying the inevitable, but they live in a society of rules, goddammit.

"But what," you interject again, to my eternal annoyance, "is the point of all this? Why did we need this new conflict category, when the other ones seem to have everything all sewn up, and wait, who ever said the 'Man' in Man vs. Nature had to refer to the protagonist of the story? Also, it doesn't seem like there's any conflict in the category of Animal Plays Professional—HEY WHAT ARE YOU—" And while it may be hard for you to read the answer from that small, dark room, which I promise isn't actually a box buried underground, so don't even worry about it, you have to understand that Animal Plays Professional Sport is integral to our continued reign as the planet's dominant species. We need these movies to keep the notion of a dog playing basketball, or soccer, simply that: a hilarious dream that we secretly pray will never come true. Because the second the animal kingdom learns that a dog could dunk on LeBron, or that a snake could throw the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl, humanity's in a whole mess of trouble. I don't think it's an exaggeration at all to suggest that Planet of the Apes is a cautionary tale of exactly what will happen if we start signing pets to lucrative sports contracts. They'll develop airs, and then suddenly just going for walkies, or finding out "who's a good boy" (they are!) won't be good enough for them!

So, please, won't you think of the children? They are our future, after all, and what do they stand to inherit if we accidentally blow up the Statue of Liberty? I'll tell you what. It's a terrible dystopic future where crocodiles wear bowling shirts, and if that image doesn't scare you, then I don't know what will.

Like I said, there's nothing in the rules that says a dog can't play basketball, but there's also nothing in the rules that says they can't rise up and wage war against humanity either. Just something to think about.

#AirBud #Movies #AnimalPlaysProfessionalSport #MattBickerton