Even though she placed fifth at the 2014 CrossFit Games South East Regional in May, I didn’t know who Taylar Stallings was until July, when I saw her compete at the final NPGL combine in Las Vegas. It took about four seconds to recognize she was going to be something special in this new, still mostly-unheard-of sport. Not only did she have the necessary chops to move weight quickly, but she had flavor, personality, passion. She was a character, she seemed interesting, & the cameras loved her for it.

At the same Regional event, despite having notched the world’s top score for Open Workout 14.2, five-foot, one hundred & fifty pound Irving Hernandez couldn’t climb atop the podium either. Yet, his back-to-back 40 chest-to-bar pull-ups in the first match of the season set the standard by which all other bodyweight specialists were measured this year. (Having first mover status helped. A few weeks later, Boston’s Mike Abgarian went even faster, & with less rest between sets, though few seemed to notice.)

With his painted nails & artist/jock narrative, former D1 football player Sam Dancer, who deadlifted 655# as a team member at this year’s CrossFit Games, seems to have been built for Gird — strong as an ox, charismatic, chisel-jawed.

My point? None of these athletes, & the other standouts from the first season of Grid, had much in the way of bargaining power when the season started. With a few decent finishes in previous CrossFit Games qualifiers, & little national recognition or fan base, they had only potential with which to negotiate contracts.

On the flip side, athletes like Annie Thorisdottir, Spencer Hendel, Dan Tyminski, & Lindsey Valenzuela boast resumes most CrossFit athletes would give their right arm to have. With multiple Games appearances, with sponsorships, with many thousands of already-adoring Instagram followers, these guys had leverage.

Here’s why this is interesting, & why it may shape the make-up of future teams or further differentiate a CrossFit Games athlete from a Grid athlete: highlight reels.

In their book, The Elusive Fan, authors Irving Rein, Philip Kotler, & Ben Shields differentiate the history of spectator sports in America generationally. The first, what they call “the monopoly generation,” lasted from 1900–1950, & was “marked by a limited number of sports products, a requirement for fans to attend an event to see it, & the emergence of media-driven sports teams & celebrities.”

The second generation, what the authors call “the television generation,” lasted from 1950–1990. Television sets in nearly 90% of households by the end of the 1950s “marked a key shift in how people spent their time. The home now more than before provided a personal entertainment experience.”

Lastly, “the highlight generation,” which began in 1990 & continues to this day, has been marked by an undeniable shift toward the youth market, given their importance to the long-term health of a spectator sport. The shift, though, hasn’t come without side-effects, namely a need to satisfy “’media multi-tasking behavior,’ which accounts for young people’s seemingly simultaneous interaction with video games, television, the Internet, cell phones, & other new communication & media technologies.”

Call it SportsCenterification, but we like getting as much info on a game or match as we can, in as little time as necessary. Taylar Stallings hitting 465# on a deadlift ladder does that. Irving Hernandez on a pull-up rig does that. Sam Dancer flying through the air to finish a race does that. Annie Thorisdottir appearing in nearly every race of every match, working methodically, filling gaps where needed, simply doesn’t do that. In a world of highlights, the complex & the nuanced are shouted-down by the sexy & the fast.

Right now, & perhaps for a few years still, those athletes who are “known” — the Matt Frasiers & Tommy Hackenbrucks — will still demand the highest salaries because they’ll still bring with them the most eyeballs. Those eyeballs, though, were earned in another sport, one increasingly proving an insufficient metric by which to measure a Grid athlete, one that rewards the generalist.

In a virtuous cycle (for some), specialties will beget highlights, highlights will beget attention, & attention will earn money. In Grid, at least, the economy of which athlete is worth what will inevitably flip.

Those accustomed to individual CrossFit Games success (& the attention that brings) will have to get used to playing second fiddle for less money. They’ll have to accept the risk of training & competing in two sports at once, & will no doubt wonder if that split attention might somehow lessen their chances at one of the few lucrative CrossFit Games podium spots.
My prediction, if I’m to make one, is that the cross-pollination we see now between the NPGL & the CrossFit Games won’t last. I think the utility players on the Grid — now almost entirely made up of successful CrossFit Games athletes — will be relatively unknown workhorses, all effort & little reward given the vast pool of talent CrossFit has created over the years. There’s so much supply of athletes who are “good at everything” that they’ll simply not be worth as much to an NPGL team. Residency will weight almost as heavily as skill level, since living close will save teams money on flights to & from practices or home matches.

The smart athlete, then, is the one who can recognize in their own skill-set the Pareto principle (also known as the 80/20 rule) — does 80% of your “talent” come from 20% of your repertoire? If so, & you don’t have your heart set on becoming the next Rich Froning, then my advice to you is to focus on your 20%. Get really good at one or two things. Get comfortable being interviewed on camera. Paint your nails a bright color. Because those things, they make you interesting. Soon, the combination of sexy & interesting will be where the bacon, as they say, is brought home.