Ali
July 8, 2016
My wife has never held famous athletes and coaches in very high regard. Much of this has to do with her disdain for misplaced priorities – so much attention and extravagant spending devoted to entertainment and sports when so much of the world’s population is without most basic essentials of life.
Because of my work, my wife occasionally has been in the company of some of the biggest names in American sports; but only one clenched her in rapt attention. It was Muhammad Ali.
We were attending a banquet at which Ali was honored. We sat at adjacent tables, with the back of my wife’s chair almost touching the back of the chair to which Ali was being ushered, slowly because of his disease.
We all stood as Ali entered. My wife’s eyes were on Ali; my eyes were on my wife, for I had never seen her give respect to a sports personality in this manner.
After the banquet, and at times since then, and certainly again after his death June 3, my wife and I have talked about what it is in Ali that she hasn’t seen in other prominent sports figures.
We noted that he brought elegance to a brutal sport, and charm to boastfulness. We cited the twinkle in his eye that outlasted his diseased body.
We recalled the tolerance and dignity he brought to his faith, and how he demonstrated his faith commitment at the most inconvenient time in his career.
We recalled his poetry when he was young and talked too much, and his use of magic to communicate after disease stole his words, as he did that night we were with him.
Years after that banquet, when Ali lit the Olympic flame at the 1996 Olympics, my wife cried. She had tears in her eyes again when that moment was replayed on the day after Ali’s death.
Ali ascended to worldwide fame in a different era – when professional media tended to be enablers more than investigative journalists, and before social media pushed every personal weakness around the planet overnight. It’s possible Ali would not have been as loved if he had emerged in public life today. It’s also possible he would have been even more beloved.
UP Power
November 29, 2016
About five hours after leaving the Michigan High School Athletic Association office building late in October, I pulled into the parking lot of Munising High School on the edge of Lake Superior. It was just after 7 p.m. on this Thursday evening, I saw that there were many cars in the parking lot, and I guessed that there was a high school volleyball game about to be played.
Indeed. It was the last regular season match of the season, and senior night. I was greeted warmly by the match referee and the school's two veteran administrators. And one of Munising's senior players, a member of the MHSAA Student Advisory Council, interrupted her warmups to jog over to welcome me. After the match, we hugged and posed for pictures together. Between the greeting and the posing, I enjoyed a marvelous evening of educational athletics.
There was plenty of cheering, and never a "boo." Not once did I hear a complaint about officiating. In fact, on two occasions the Munising coach corrected officials' calls that resulted in a point being awarded to his opponent.
For a time, every player on the floor for Munising had played more than one sport that season. Every one of the six played tennis as well as volleyball, and one of them also ran cross country this season. At the same time, the other team's participants included two girls who were also playing on their school's 8-player football team this past season.
Here the multi-sport student-athlete is not an endangered species; it's an essential fact of life. Here a school sports event draws the community together in good spirit and sportsmanship. Here is the power of school sports.