Why Sports are like Musical Theatre

Last Saturday night Manny Pacquiao won his eighth title in his eighth different weight category on the eighth day of the eight month (okay, I made those last two up.) Pacquiao's win in many ways was the definitive victory of his career. Sure, Pacquiao has faced more esteemed competition (Barrera, Morales, Oscar de la Hoya), and much bigger money fights remain on the horizon (Money Mayweather of course). But what made Pacquiao's win so special was that despite giving up nearly 20 pounds and 5 inches of height, Pacquiao was a heavy favourite over a three time welterweight champion. Even before Pacquiao began his symphony of violence on Margarito's face, the experts claimed Manny's win was inevitable; Pacquiao was too fast, too crisp, and his gas tank too big.

But as a Pacquiao fan, the knot in my stomach never went away. Even though Margarito's bursts of offence were few and far between, they were still threatening enough to make me worry until the final bell. Despite the dominance on display, the pro-Pacquiao crowd still fell into a tense silence whenever Manny had his back onto the ropes. And although it was Margarito who went to the hospital after the fight with a broken orbital bone, Pacquiao left the fight far from unscathed. In the sixth round, during a Margarito flurry to Pacquiao's ribs, a shot to the body nearly floored Manny. Reports from Pacquiao's camp state that Manny spent the Sunday after the fight balled up in bed from the pain.

Contrast that to how I spent Monday night. One of the great things about living in a big, metropolitan city are the seemingly limitless pockets of culture hidden in the city's different nooks and crannies. Take last night for example; tucked away in the lounge of a friend's condo was the weekly “Gay Musical Sing Along” night. While the premise of a room full of gay dudes, and overweight music theatre majors caterwauling off-key didn't sound like a fun night, it turned out to be a pretty enjoyable experience, if only because everyone else was having so much fun.

Now while I'm no musical ignoramus, most of the show tunes were completely over my head; which isn't surprising considering that my entire knowledge of musical theatre consists of the Sound of Music or that '525600 Minutes' song from Rent. But what was even more surprising, at least to me anyway, was that no matter how obscure the musical, or how nondescript the song, every single person attending knew the lyrics. Every-single-lyric.

I remember asking a gay classmate of mine a few years ago what was up with gay guys and musicals. (He himself had just finished a supporting part in a university production of Cabaret.) I wasn't expecting anything profound, but his answer was surprisingly insightful.

It's no different than straight guys and sports; what you find in sports, the highs and lows of human drama, the tension, the fact that anything can happen at any second- it's what we find in theatre.

And you know what? He's completely right. Unlike scripted television and movies, actors on stage work on a metaphorical tight rope. The possibility for flubbing a line, slipping, or just falling off the stage completely is omnipresent. It's just that where some memorize baseball statistics and basketball championships, others memorize the choruses from Evita. Sitting there Saturday night with thirty other rapt boxing fans, and a few nights later a couple dozen music theatre geeks, you realize there's something universal about the spectacle of watching people reach for their goals, whether it be knocking some other guy out, or escaping from Nazis with your eight step-children. Which is why I was thinking that SCORE, the 'hockey musical' that debuted at this year's Toronto International Film Festival might be the biggest step towards the acceptance of gays in North American culture since Ellen stepped out of the closet.