Ignorance is byss

Everyone’s an expert these days. At least that’s how it appears to a young layman like myself, while slowly reclining in my profoundly comfortable desk chair. Expertise is overrated. To become an expert you must spend thousands, if not millions of dollars at a prestigious university in pursuit of a narrow goal, committing yourself to plumbing the depths of brain-tickling source material. Voyaging to the bottom of your chosen subject inside stuffy intellectual caissons, where vanity, not nitrogen gets into your bloodstream. That's no life of the mind.

What good is that? To be the world’s foremost expert in Ancient Roman spoons, but offer little value when the topic of forks comes up. To be the preeminent scholar on credenzas, but provide next to nothing when discussing antique bar carts. To be the foremost authority on toothpaste, but plead ignorance when the importance of mint as a cocktail garnish rears its refreshing head. 

Amateurs are pure. They are untouched and unvarnished, not yet poisoned by their own ambition. They don’t know too much and are not damaged by focus. They’re still getting the hang of things. Did they attend grad school? Unlikely. But Wikipedia is free, ain’t it? As fine a place as any for an amateur to cut his or her teeth on unsubstantiated rumors and tenuous facts. A cyber Shangri-La of unparalleled unenlightenment.

This is the primary appeal of the Olympic Games. A pack of amateurs trying their best while professionals sit home cursing - tossing fruit, veggies and delicate French pastries at their television sets. Pros lecture and belittle, showing off their ability, steering any conversation towards a place they’re comfortable. Amateurs are just happy to be there, grateful at the opportunity and savoring every moment. They pinch themselves. They actually pinch themselves. When’s the last time a professional did that?

But the Olympics remain stagnant by sticking to the realm of athletics. As far as I’m concerned, if you’re in the amateur racket, why not go all in, toeing the line in places you definitely don’t belong? It feels only natural to expand the competitions into unskilled trades and fields that up until this point have felt immune from an invasion of rank amateurs. Let’s put an end to that. 

There’s nothing worse than seeing a seasoned professional carpenter, messianic in his outlook and martyred on his daily commute, painstakingly sanding the puny legs of a handmade armoire until the thing is perfectly level. What the people, the masses, are craving, is watching someone who can’t spell “spindle” hacking away at lumber with a recklessness rarely seen outside a prison yard. This is appealing. This is attractive. 

Look, I’m guessing the people working at the Hadron collider are nice enough folks. But I’d like to see someone without any understanding of nuclear physics or Romanche give it a whirl for a chance. It's not like it's the end of the world.