How Aesthetics Made The 1980s Sport’s Greatest Era

Here at The Public Apology* we unashamedly regard the 1980s as the halcyon days for professional sport (the early 1990s weren’t too bad either, mind you).

In fact, one of our core beliefs, as described in our unofficial Code of Ethics, is that “nothing will ever be as good as sport during this period because that’s when we grew up and our teams won all the time.”

Yes, it is true that our teams won a lot of the time (chiefly because as callow 6-year-olds we chose to support the team that won the most), but there is a little more to this belief than simply some nostalgic bandwagonning.

And yes, it is true that we love this period because we still hold on to the absurd idea that players back then were less interested in money and more interested in team loyalty, but there is more to it than stubborn, naïve opinions.

The reason we love the 1980s (and early 1990s) is because they represent the most beautiful period, visually speaking, for professional sports.

For many codes, the 1980s was a transition period – not just towards greater professionalisation, but more importantly towards the nationalisation and internationalisation of audience, as well as the increasing commercialisation that came with it.

Commercialisation didn’t simply mean players got paid more money, it meant the dramatic escalation of advertising in professional sports, and signaled the real start of modern-era sports’ symbiotic relationship with the world of advertising. All of a sudden teams were wearing massive corporate logos across their chests, stadiums were lined with advertising boards and star players were spruiking products (or causes) that had no apparent relation to sport.

The proliferation of advertising, technological improvements to colour television and the clean, simple design aesthetic of the era, all combined made sports viewing tremendously beautiful. In particular, sports uniforms reached a peak of beauty and simplicity which, despite the recent ‘throwback jersey’ trend, have never (and probably will never will be) seen again. When it came to team kits, block primary colours were in. Adidas and the simplicity of the three stripes reigned supreme over all other brands, although Nike and Reebok also warrant serious mention.

While modern jerseys are now constructed from recycled coke bottles and boast of special space-age technology to ‘enhance’ performance, jerseys in the ’80s and (to an extent) the ’90s didn’t need that rubbish. They were heavy, made from cotton, they didn’t breathe well and it didn’t matter.

The logos on team uniforms and team apparel, and all advertising in sports, also reached a zenith not to be seen again.

With cigarette companies pouring serious sums of money into sport, we witnessed some of the great corporate logos adorning our favourite competitions and our athlete’s uniforms and machines. Marlboro. Winfield. Rothmans. The king of 1980s motorsport, Formula 1, should be singled out for special praise for its early adoption of amazing team uniforms and its tight embrace of the tobacco dollar.

Rugby league also embraced cigarette sponsorship, naming their competition and award for best players after Winfield and Rothmans cigarettes respectively. The code also embraced alcohol with similar vigour.

When it came to the corporate logos themselves, they were clean, uncomplicated, and rarely used more than two (often primary) colours. In most cases the logo consisted of clear writing on a stark block colour background. It was simple and it was beautiful, as you will see below in this still from the 1986 World Cup.

But it wasn’t simply the advertising, or the elegant players uniforms that made sport in the 1980s beautiful. The fact that sport was primarily played during the day made it far more pleasing spectacle to watch. In the bright light of day, not only was sport easy to watch but team uniforms and colours “popped” on your television screen and on photographs.

I am no lighting specialist, but you don’t have to be Max Dupain to understand that natural light does wonders for aesthetics – something that lights at sports grounds simply cannot replicate. Of course, watching sport played in the daytime also evokes personal memories of the viewer’s amateur sporting highlights, bringing a sense of familiarity and bridging the gap between spectator sport and the Dundas under 7s rugby league side.

As television audiences became more important to sports administrators, we slowly but surely saw our most important sporting fixtures plucked from their traditional 3pm kickoff time and transplanted right into the prime time TV slots (with the exception of the AFl, to their credit). Professional sports codes may have gained more viewers sitting on their couches, but in doing so they lost an invaluable facet of the game.

And hoisting a trophy just looks better during the day, too.

Just like video killing the radio star, it seems that advertising, one of the very reasons why sport in the 1980s was so beautiful, has damn near eradicated some of sport’s most aesthetically pleasing features. Sometimes I lay awake at night and cry at the thought we will never again see the Winfield Cup final being played as the sun beats down on the cigarette company-adorned cotton jerseys of our sporting heroes.

By Ben Shine

*This article was originally published in The Sporting Regard, which was acquired by The Public Apology earlier this year for an undisclosed sum. Minor editing has taken place to give the illusion that this content was created specifically for TPA. Hopefully you haven’t bothered reading this disclaimer.

A Public Apology for… David Warner

The Public Apology presents a new series in which we apologise for various athletes who have brought the game into disrepute through dickhead-ish behaviour. In this first installment, Al McClintock targets Australian cricketer and perennial headline-grabber, David Warner…

There is a lot to like about the David Warner story. Battler come good. The ‘slogger’ proving the critics wrong and dominating test cricket. So why do so few people actually like him?

It would be wrong to say he divides public opinion, as sports journalists love to do, because I am yet to hear anyone apart from his father come out and defend him. Even then he more just stands by him, no doubt desperately wishing his son would pull both his punches and his head in.

For a moment, it seemed he had. He began reeling off domestic tons, opponents went uniassaulted and the future looked bright for Davey from the Block. He had worked his way back into the test team, started scoring runs, and settled down with a lovely lady. He was one of the good guys again. But it didn’t last long.

David Warner, the Shakespearean stage actor, is reportedly horrified by the antics of his name-sake
David Warner, the Shakespearean stage actor, is reportedly horrified by the antics of his name-sake

Enter Jonathan Trott, and a bunch of South Africans, Zimbabweans and New Zealanders masking as Englishmen and… well we all know what happened there. Most could forgive Warner for that though. It was an unfortunate set of circumstances that Warner surely could not have anticipated. The problem is he didn’t learn from it. I can’t remember the last time a test match finished without a snide Warner remark about the performance of the opposition. They are always ‘scared’, ‘lazy’, ‘weak’, or in the case of the recent Port Elizabeth test, ‘cheating‘.

Cheating is a pretty heavy accusation at the best of times. Especially when you have absolutely no evidence apart from a particularly good bowling display from the undisputed best fast bowler in the world (I am sorry Mitchell Johnson, but he is. Do what you’re doing for another three years, and then I’ll reconsider). It reeks of sore loser.

The ultimate irony is that the South Africans say it was Warner himself who was responsible for the reverse swing, by hitting JP Duminy for six and sending the ball onto the concrete in the stands. I imagine that claim was made with their tongues gently caressing their inner cheeks, but one can’t help but chuckle.

Paul 'Fatty' Vautin, one of the great exponents of tongue-in-cheek behaviour
Paul ‘Fatty’ Vautin, one of the great exponents of tongue-in-cheek behaviour

Why Warner ever became the ‘go to man’ for press conferences is beyond me. Surely there are some better-spoken players in the team? I assume it was a deliberate ploy to begin with and he was sent out by ‘Boof’ with the instructions of getting under the opponents skin, but now, given the ‘internal discipline’ he apparently received, perhaps the masters have realised their attack dog has broken his leash and is relishing the taste of human flesh a little bit too much.

The term ‘Attack Dog’ in fact suits him to a tee. Given his stocky stature and the way he really goes out there to maul attacks, he has all the qualities of a loyal little Staffordshire Terrier (say what you like about him, he is loyal, and does play for the team). But like a young pup he sometimes gets over excited and takes a shit on the floor. Interestingly, if you watch his eyes during some of his stupider comments, he often immediately looks guilty and knows he’s said something he’ll regret.

He doesn’t quite have the guilty look of a scolded puppy, but he knows he’s in trouble. You can almost hear his inner monologue screaming mid-sentence “ABORT! ABORT!”, like Darren Lockyer’s must have been when he told that infamous ‘Raper” joke about the Canterbury Bulldogs*, but on then there is this distant, desperate response: “I can’t! I’ve come too far…”

Lockyer, was caught up in the moment
Lockyer, was caught up in the moment

Perhaps the worst thing for young David is that while all this has been going on he has been in scintillating form, but no one’s talking about his batting. Legends of the game were unanimous before this test in saying he should let his bat do the talking, and has he ever! Yet he won’t be remembered in this series as the leading run scorer (potentially), rather he will be the bloke who accused the other guys of cheating and generally talked shit.

He is not entirely to blame. The new M.O. of the Aussie cricket team seems to be if we talk ourselves up, and the opponents down enough, we may just begin to believe it. Given the results, it certainly seems to be working, and as cricket is such a psychological game, there is credence to such a strategy.

Still, in what is meant to be ‘the gentlemen’s game’, I can’t help but ask myself, where have all the gentlemen gone?

By Al McClintock

* To be fair, it was actually a pretty good gag