Ever notice that we've had a lot of 'greatest of all time' moments lately? The Heat's Finals comeback over the Dallas Mavericks was called the greatest ever. The 2004 Red Sox ALCS win over the Yankees after falling behind 0-3 was too. The 2006 NCAA basketball tournament was called the greatest of all time, at least until the later rounds when everyone found out that huge upsets early in the tourney means good, not great, teams in the Final Four. The 2005 USC Trojans were hailed as the greatest team of all time, then lost the Rose Bowl and the National Championship to Vince Young and the Texas Longhorns. Then that game was called the greatest of all time and Vince's performance was called the greatest individual performance of all time.
OK, I won't argue with that last one.
We've even turned it into an ironic acronym: G.O.A.T. Used to be, if someone said, "Who's the goat?" the answer was Bill Buckner. Now it's Alex Rodriguez. Come to think of it, Barry Bonds could arguably be the answer to both questions.
Why do we feel the need to attempt to validate today's sporting events, teams and athletes by naming them the greatest of all time? Is it not good enough to put on a great performance? Why do we need our teams to defeat not only their opponent, but also history? Is it because we live in a world of mass media, the internet and SportsCenter highlights? Is it our arrogance to believe that we live in the greatest era of mankind? Or is it simply a desire to feel as though we are witnessing history at every turn? Whatever the case, we have become a society of statistical outliers, the tapered ends of the bell curve, where the greats of today (and the worst--it works that way as well) will be quickly replaced by tomorrows G.O.A.T.s (or goats, as the case may be).
App State's win over Michigan was not the greatest upset of all time, but it was a great game, and that's good enough for me.
Also published at 110 Percent.