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.
More is Not Better
September 30, 2016
Michigan is generally considered the first state to conduct high school sports tournaments in different classifications based on the enrollment of participating schools, but the Michigan High School Athletic Association may be the last statewide high school organization you will ever hear say "More is better" when it comes to tournament classification. In fact, the MHSAA argues against the classification expansion virus that infects many other states.
While still far from the "Everyone gets a ribbon" philosophy of some youth sports programs, the number of classifications is increasing and the number of schools in each classification is decreasing in the state tournament structures of many states.
While media will opine that increasing classifications waters down the tournament, our arguments are more practical. For example, the more classifications a tournament has, the greater the distance teams must travel for early round games, which is expensive and time consuming for teams and fans alike.
While some people believe more classifications might enhance their favorite team's opportunity to taste success in tournament play, reducing the number of teams in each classification actually leads to more repeat champions, which reduces rather than increases tournament excitement and attendance.
The more classifications there are, the harder it is to find a single venue to host the finals of all the divisions and the less likely that all divisions will enjoy the same services and support. Media are spread thinner, leading to less coverage of tournaments. Audio and video networks find it impossible to cover multiple venues adequately.
The most efficient and economical tournament is a single-class format. Nevertheless, a format that serves a membership where some schools are 100 times larger than others requires separate classifications. But there is a point of very diminished benefits.