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.
Secret Weapon
October 25, 2016
The rapid rate of turnover in the ranks of local school sports leadership might suggest a program that is in disarray and has lost its way. But that’s not the case most of the time in most of our schools, which operate with a North Star sense of direction and regular recall of the core values of educational athletics. This is because school sports has a secret weapon.
In schools across this state there are coaches and administrators whose lifetime profession and passion has been school sports. People who chose to stick with sports when there were other opportunities in education with more regular, less demanding hours. People who chose to stay at the secondary school level when there were opportunities at higher levels. These folks are sold out for school sports, and they are the secret weapon of school sports.
For these people, school sports has been the life-affirming, life-shaping, sometimes even life-saving business of educational athletics.
For these people, school sports has been a calling, nearly a mission, not quite a crusade.
For these people, everything they do is connected, is intentional, is purposeful.
When these people conduct a coach or parent meeting, or a pep assembly or a postseason awards night, they know why they are doing so.
When these people coordinate homecoming week festivities or create their school’s student-athlete advisory council or its Hall of Fame, they know why they are doing so.
It’s because they know interscholastic athletic programs are good for students, schools and society in ways that other youth sports programs can’t come close to matching.
The why of their work guides them and drives them. It gives meaning and motivation to their days. It assures our success.