Giles Harvey reflects on beauty in sports:
Earlier this year I became particularly obsessed with the famous moment during the 1970 World Cup semi-final between Brazil and Uruguay when Pelé, charging to meet a bespoke through ball from Tostão, outfoxes the approaching Uruguayan keeper by doing nothing at all. Pelé simply allows the pass to run on—to the goalie’s left—as he swerves the other way and then circles back to collect the ball. Of course, he ends up missing—it’s the greatest goal never scored—but that hardly matters. If anything, the fact that he misses seems to intensify the aesthetic quality of the move. (As though Pelé were interested in something as utilitarian as scoring goals!) The moment seemed to me to represent a summit not just of sporting prowess but of human civilization itself. Watching it, I felt what might be described as species pride: look what we’re able to do!
As it is, our students now read effortfully and slowly, and with only imperfect comprehension of what they have seen. They limp into the texts of the humanities (as well as the texts of other realms of learning). I dream of children who have become true readers, who like to sing together, to act together, to read aloud together, and to be read to. After that mastery of reading, the encounter with science textbooks and lab manuals will not daunt them. … They will be the next humanists—but only if we make them so. And I see no way to do that aside from devoting the first four years of their education, all day, every day (except for a period of mathematics) to reading in all its forms.