| In 1941, as German bombs fell around Britain during the Blitz, a list of “temporary rules” attributed to Richmond Golf Club began circulating in newspapers. The rules explain how to proceed with a game of golf given certain hazards of war. Rule 2, for instance, stipulates that “during gunfire or while bombs are falling, players may take shelter without penalty for ceasing play.” Though the document’s veracity is unclear, the rules supply a caricature of the apparent absurdity all competitive games share: sometimes, we appear to care intensely about their outcomes, even as bombs fall about our feet, while acknowledging that those outcomes do not matter. I call this the Puzzle of Sport. In this article, I argue that the only published solution to this puzzle, according to which our puzzling attitudes to competitive game outcomes are explained by make-believe,1 suffers a number of problems. I then offer a new solution using ideas from David Velleman and Thomas Nagel, which appeals to attitudinal volatility. Finally, I consider how make-believe might still figure in my account. Why do we often (appear to) care so much about competitive game outcomes (understood broadly to include outcomes of whole games, of individual plays, whether a record is broken, and so on) while simultaneously denying their importance? Kendall Walton’s answer is that makebelieve explains this: just as we engage in a rule-governed imaginative activity when playing children’s games or appreciating works of fiction, so we sometimes engage in this activity when participating as players or spectators2 in competitive games (Walton 2015a, 75–76). Specifically, while participants may not actually believe some competitive game outcome matters, they engage imaginatively in a make-believe game in which it is fictional—true in the game—that it matters a lot. Call this claim “Sports as Make-Believe” (smb).3 What is a competitive game? I will leave this question without a precise answer. At minimum, a set of necessary conditions upon x’s being a competitive game are that x be (i) an activity (ii) participated in (iii) with success conditions in mind, what Bernard Suits calls “prelusory” goals (1978, 36–37). Paradigmatic examples have to suffice to anchor the notion: football, tennis, and basketball, as well as “It,” “British Bulldog,” and similar children’s games count. Making toast, waiting for the bus, and filing one’s taxes do not. |