RADIO CONTROL AEROBATICS
Rick Allison, 15618 NE 56th Way, Redmond WA 98052
I've had several recent conversations where the word talent has played a central role.
One was a glowing report from an acquaintance about a Sportsman up-and-comer in his corner of the country; one was an inquiry about what sort of "special" talent you had to have to fly Pattern; and the last was with a disgruntled friend considering an early retirement from competition—because, in his words, "you just can't get a good look anymore unless you're a big dog or some talented kid."
Strong words, those last; all in all, enough to make you think. What is this thing about "talent" these days?
What do we mean by "talent"?
Talent is a term that used to be mostly reserved for practitioners of the traditional creative arts: musicians, sculptors, artists, actors, and writers. According to my current edition of Webster's, talent is defined as a "mental or physical ability or aptitude." Fair enough, I suppose.
However, the coaches, analysts, commentators, and journalists who surround amateur and professional sports have turned talent into one of the two most overused buzzwords of the decade (the second is potential). The practice has spilled over into all sorts of other fields. Now we hear not only of "talented" point guards and shortstops, but of computer programmers, finish carpenters, electricians, lawyers, and all sorts of other professionals and tradespeople who in times past might have been described as "capable," "competent," "knowledgeable," "skilled," "proficient," or, my personal favorite, "well-practiced."
The resulting semantic shift in the public consciousness is subtle, but real. And in our sport nowadays, as in many others, talent has come to be seen by many as a purely natural ability that requires little—if any—polishing to refine. Once identified, we accord talent immediate celebrity status; an elevated position on the scale. The fortunate few who are judged to possess it are admired, encouraged, and allowed a great deal of leeway.
In contrast, those who are for some reason viewed as less gifted, but who somehow manage to acquire a considerable degree of competence—perhaps earned by mere hard work and application—we label overachievers.
This is faint praise at best. We may still claim to appreciate their grit and perseverance, but we no longer encourage their dreams and cheer their successes the way we used to. A nation that has historically rooted for the underdog has seemingly shifted gears to backing only front-runners and phenoms. Talent has become the new grail, and many of us have become seekers after star-shine.
Talent and RC Aerobatics
For RC Aerobatics, this is an unnecessarily limiting situation. It becomes what a psychologist would call a "self-fulfilling prophecy" for many competitors, and it gives rise to considerable discouragement and frustration. These easy-to-apply labels we are so fond of hanging on each other can become confining little pigeonholes that competitors can't seem to get out of, no matter what quality of maneuvers they produce.
We have a subjective sport that can get a little too subjective at times. As judges and pilots—and in recent years we have worn both hats—we sometimes are a little too ready to judge pilots instead of maneuvers. The whole "talent" idea is not only limiting and prejudicial, but inaccurate as well. Talent is a very loose concept when it is applied to our sport, or even to RC piloting in general.
First, no one even learns to competently manage RC flight without some degree of what might be called aptitude for the activity. Second, it should be talents (plural). Accurately and precisely guiding (or even just guiding!) an RC airplane through compound aerobatic maneuvers requires multiple skills; some motor, some visual, some cognitive, some spatial. Doing it in a competitive, subjectively judged situation also requires a personality that is integrated and oriented to accomplish this under a degree of pressure—nerve skills, if you will.
It requires a considerable helping of all of the above just to make it into Sportsman class. In my view, there are no "untalented" RC aerobatic pilots, whatever their current skill level may be.
There are, however, a good many who never perform to their full potential—and that number even includes a few who have had the "talented" label stuck on them, but who never did the hard work to acquire all the necessary skills.
Important aptitudes for RC Aerobatics
There are some natural abilities that do make learning to perform high-quality RC aerobatics a quicker process for some than for others:
- Good vision, specifically good dynamic visual acuity—the ability to see and differentiate an object in motion against a visual field. This skill is what makes it possible to track and catch a pitched ball, judge holes in traffic, or lock on another pilot's tail in a dogfight. It has some connection with how sharp your eyesight is when deciphering a stationary eye chart, but it is actually something a little different. Good dynamic visual acuity is usually a gift. It can be trained and refined, but it is hard to teach.
- Good motor skills—reflexes and hand-eye coordination—are an obvious requirement, but most RC pilots already possess these skills in sufficient quantity. Without them, the hobby/sport of RC flying is a frustrating activity that never becomes enjoyable enough to pursue.
- Spatial sense—or seeing in perspective—is perhaps the most important ability of all for RC Aerobatics. This is the ability that enables an artist to realistically render a three-dimensional scene on a two-dimensional canvas, or a carpenter to look at a structure from an oblique angle and tell that it is out of plumb. This, too, is a natural gift to some, but others needn't despair, because this ability can definitely be learned. It is a matter of observation—of learning what the model should look like to the stationary pilot/observer when it is tracking square to the line of flight. I call it the "sight picture."
Examining this important skill (and how to acquire it) in detail is worthwhile, and will probably be the subject of a full column very soon.
Beyond the skills above, the main aptitude needed for flying RC Aerobatics well is just an enthusiastic willingness to do all the practicing and learning necessary to climb the ladder.
The reality is that almost everyone who becomes involved (and stays involved) with RC Aerobatics has some considerable degree of special aptitude or talent in one or more of the areas above.
Practice, growth, and attitude
More important, as competitors and individuals, all of us have our strengths and weaknesses, and all of us possess the capacity to modify those strengths and weaknesses—to grow, learn, and change. We all make mistakes, and we all have triumphs, however major or minor.
Those who have flown well in the past do not always continue to perform at their former level. Those who have shown promise do not always fulfill it. Those who have previously disappointed do not always continue along that road. There is always a new day, a new contest, and a new sky to fill with maneuvers.
This is as it should be, and it is essential that we continue to allow each other the mental elbow room to succeed or fail according to our own individual efforts. The best maneuvers should always receive the best scores, and I've never met any real competitors who would have it any other way.
To that end, the one talent all of us should cultivate, as pilots and especially as judges, is the ability to maintain a deliberate, "show me" open-mindedness about who can and can't get it done, who should or shouldn't win or place at any given time, and who can or can't improve their flying skills.
There is no substitute for an honest evaluation, given (and received) with respect and attention. This is what people mean when they talk about "getting a good look." It is the very minimum that we owe each other every time, every contest, every flight—without regard to any "talent" expectations, good or bad.
When I sit in the judge's chair, my very favorite thing is being surprised by the improvement someone has made. It makes my day. I'm sometimes disappointed by someone who I thought might do better. Either way, I try hard to make sure the numbers I call are based strictly on the maneuver's flow, and not my personal expectations about what I should be seeing. Surprises of all sorts do happen, which is one of the reasons we actually fly and judge at contests, instead of just handing out all the hardware right after registration.
In the end, regardless of any talent or degree of aptitude others might perceive, those who practice and work hard will fly better. Those who don't practice and don't do the work, no matter how gifted, honored, or well-labeled, will slide in the quality of their presentation. There will be movement on the actual performance ladder up, down, and sometimes even sideways.
With a level playing field, the scores we give and receive should reflect those realities when the results are posted. As long as that continues to happen more often than not, our event will remain vital and healthy. And the more often it happens, the healthier our event will become.
That doesn't mean we've done a poor job of providing that level playing field in the past; just that we can do better.
In fact, the field has always been level enough that if an appetite for practice and a desire to excel can rightfully be called a "talent," nearly everyone who has established a record of sustained achievement in this sport can be called "talented."
On the other hand, if having "talent" means not having to do the hard work and pay the dues, then I'm afraid our current crop of champions and their predecessors are nothing but a pack of dedicated, no-talent, overachieving practice junkies.
I'm pretty certain most of them are proud of that. Unlike "talent," a label like that is something you earn.
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
