Abstract

Anyone engaged in competitive sports wants to win, but how are winners determined? With stick-and-ball sports, it is by scoring more points than the competition. For motorized sports, it is by finishing ahead of all others, sometimes, in the current era requiring electronic timing and video, by 1/1000 of a second. For track and field, swimming, and most winter sports, there are also occasions where timing must be consulted to determine placement. It is among this latter group of sports where Jonathan Finn brings the reader along for a unique analysis of how photo-finishes and timing evolved.In Beyond the Finish Line: Images, Evidence, and the History of the Photo-Finish, Finn “emphasizes the complexity of the photo-finish as a cultural artifact” (7). Structurally, there are six chapters, and across all of them are “three interrelated issues . . . : the problem of representation; objectivity and visual evidence; and the quest for records” (9). Further, the chapters are neither sequential nor chronological to each other, but within each chapter, there are timelines about specific matters.The opening chapter provides the overall framework whereby the book also “emphasizes the co-construction of technology and sport, broadly conceived, with specific attention given to issues of human and machine vision, photographic truth and objectivity, and decision-making in sport” (23). It is also here where he explains the crucial differences between photo-finishes and photos of finishes.The second chapter is centered on how reliance on human reaction in late-1800s photography affected the final image of a photo-finish. As an illustration, Finn offers two patented devices specifically for horse racing, with the first having twelve equidistant camera stations at the finish line and the second having a revolving disc with photo plates. The problem of that time with respect to photos was they were expected to be “technically proficient . . . but also artistic . . . to convey a sense of beauty or wonderment” (36), which the latter could attain. Adding to the complexity was the issue of trust; sport photos were seen as dubious since the contemporary thought was that human eyes were better than machine eyes.Chapter 3 covers the period 1900–1940 and the transition to “electric eyes” and “camera eyes,” which were considered more accurate than those of people. Here Finn elucidates several significant innovations that strengthened belief in a technological fix for sporting competition measurement, such as “eye in the sky” (mounted higher than the judge's stand) and improved video.The fourth section delves into top-level socioeconomic and financial aspects of the photo-finish, exploring the Olympics and tensions between the Olympic organizers and the Swiss watch company Omega. Finn outlines how that company navigated the landscape of Olympic Organizing Committees for each separate venue. As the chapter traverses the latter decades of the twentieth century into the twenty-first, an interesting paradox persisted around image credibility due to questions about the consistent adoption of “technoscientific artifacts” intertwined with the new reality that “racers were not racing just against each other but against national or other records set at other meets in other places and times” (117).In chapter 5, Finn explores the conundrum of accuracy versus precision. On a very relatable level for the reader, the author lays out his case that even with advancing technologies over the decades, human interpretation is still required, and judgments must be made regarding the exact location of a competitor's body. Furthermore, he shares with readers the notion of non-intervention, that is, not sanitizing images to look pretty in order to “guarantee the veracity of the object depicted” (146).The final chapter expands the analysis to the present, looking at the current relationship between technologies and sports. Goal-line technology in top tier global football, instant replay, Hawk-Eye in tennis and cricket, the new Video Assist Referee (VAR), which confirms or can overrule a decision on the field (along with the field referee's viewing of the video) have all brought up similar issues of acceptance. Among Finn's last comments here is the provocative claim: “But greater precision does not mean greater accuracy” (175). This last point is significant for the measure of athletic performance in the timing-oriented sports noted at the beginning of this review. The reason is that each sport incorporates the variation of “dimensional tolerances” such as clothing, minimal variations in lanes/routes, or even “thickness of paint on pool walls” (159). Which is more useful then, pure accuracy of time or athlete performance?This highly sourced book is a valuable and important contribution to not just sports history but also the history of technology and, to a degree, business history.

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