Athletes love lion comparisons, but it’s time to consider other animals

Every athlete seems to think of themselves as a lion. It doesn’t matter the sport; if an athlete wants to showcase that they’re great and fearsome, they compare themselves to the big cat. Those athletes include, but aren’t limited to, Memphis Depay, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Nice Man Russell Wilson, Israel Adesanya, Amanda Nunes, Ronda Rousey, Isaiah Thomas, and LeBron James:

The lion is a great symbol for athletes, but sometimes it feels like it’s the only one. Look anywhere in the sports world and you will find individuals, of widely differing abilities, comparing themselves to lions. Athletes love to remind the world, for example, that lions do not concern themselves with the opinion of sheep.

Since ancient times, lions have transfixed humanity. They were the subjects of cave paintings and bronze statues. Deities have been depicted as lions — sometimes in full, and sometimes with just a lion’s head or body. The lion is portrayed as a ferocious and noble creature in many religious texts. When C.S. Lewis imagined what Jesus would look like in the fantastical world of the The Chronicles of Narnia, he depicted him as the lion Aslan.

Lions also became linked to kingship. They are symbols of monarchy, majesty and awe, likely stemming from their reputation as the kings of the jungle, rulers of the wild. They have been depicted with saints, kings, warriors, and benevolent people everywhere. In seemingly every culture, the lion is a revered animal symbolizing positive and powerful qualities — unless you’re George R.R. Martin.

There is nothing wrong with lions. I adore them. But we need some diversity. All I’m asking is athletes consider other wonderful creatures to associate with. Some teams are even named after other interesting beasts. Yet at the individual level, athletes cling to the comfort and safety of the lion.

Let’s consider, for example, the mysterious narwhal. It’s a whale with a damn spear in its face. Though no one seems to know what that prominent tusk does, it has an interesting mythical history, and was once assumed to be a magical creature. Martin Frobisher, a seaman, wrote one of the earliest accounts of the creature:

“On this West shoare we found a dead fishe floating, whiche had in his nose a horne streight and torquet, of lengthe two yardes lacking two ynches, being broken in the top, where we might perceiue it hollowe, into which some of our Saylers putting Spiders, they presently dyed. I sawe not the tryall hereof, but it was reported vnto me of a trueth: by the vertue whereof, we supposed it to be a sea Unicorne.”

What about crows and ravens? Intelligent and sometimes devious. The Ulysseus of the animal kingdom. The trickster. Symbols of the dead and carriers of information. Harbingers of rain and destroyers of crops. In the Kid Loki comics, the reborn and more honorable god turned his elder, more deceitful self into a magpie, also of the Corvidae family. Let’s not let the ending of Game of Thrones and what became of the Three-Eyed Raven destroy these creatures’ potential.

Another favorite of mine is the octopus. It is practically an alien, with a central brain as well as an individual “brain” in each of its eight arms, which can work independently. Highly intelligent and solitary, the octopus does not like to be held captive, which makes it a perfect symbol for athletes who are always complaining about a lack of creative and expressive freedom. Their mythology includes the idea of the powerful and insatiable kraken. Victor Hugo found them monstrous and terrifying:

If terror were the object of ... creation, nothing could be imagined more perfect than the devil-fish ... This irregular mass advances slowly towards you. Suddenly it opens, and eight radii issue abruptly from around a face with two eyes. These radii are alive: their undulation is like lambent flames ... A terrible expansion! ... Its folds strangle, its contact paralyses. It has an aspect like gangrened or scabrous flesh. It is a monstrous embodiment of disease ... Underneath each of [its] feelers range two rows of pustules, decreasing in size ... They are cartilaginous substances, cylindrical, horny and livid ... A glutinous mass, endowed with a malignant will, what can be more horrible?

I do not want to denigrate lions. They are majestic, intelligent, and intimidating creatures. Seeing one in real life is a profound experience. Their presence alone is terrifying and at the same time entrancing.

One of the most common arguments against lions’ symbolic power is they are lazier than those depicted in art. Instead, it is the lioness who does most of the work in a pride, and are thus the true warriors of their species. Indeed, lionesses are also strong symbols, retaining the positive qualities of the lion while adding the often feminized attribute of protectiveness, as with the Lion Gate of ancient Mycenae and the Egyptian goddess Sekhmet.

But part of the appeal of the lion is it doesn’t do grunt work. It’s a king. It shouldn’t be out fighting all the time. A king doesn’t display its power at all times, otherwise its mystique would be ruined. (And note, the lion can and has been used in association with women, such as Queen Victoria in Una and the Lion.) Panthera leo’s way of life, regardless of sex, is a ripe metaphor for athletes.

A symbol can lose its power if over-exposed, however, and there’s no reason why athletes have to over-index on the lion. There is an enormous world of animals that are powerful and agile, magical and intelligent. The lion isn’t entirely boring, but it has become so typical it no longer does justice to athletes nor lions. Comparing oneself to a lion suggests a failure of imagination. It’s time to give it a break. The symbol has done more work than the creatures themselves would ever do.