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.
Going on Offense
March 3, 2015
I was a defensive back on my college football team, but I refuse to be put on the defensive about the game of football.
The game is good for students, their schools and our communities. High school football is character-building for students, spirit-building for schools and community-building for cities and towns. Local school football programs ought to be part of the development plans and place-making strategies of all communities of Michigan.
The school-sponsored game has never been safer to play. The equipment has never been more protective, coaches have never had more safety training, the rules have never been more safety-oriented, and game officials have never had more encouragement to enforce those rules. The result is fewer injuries of all kinds – from nicks and bruises to ankles, knees and necks.
When the game of football has faults, we find and fix them. To continue doing so requires that we be honest with ourselves about where the game has weaknesses and be constantly alert to effective ways to improve the game.
Defensiveness gets in the way of discovering ways to go on offense. It blocks innovation and sacks aspirations before they can be launched.
I want our public to know that school-sponsored football is a great game. I also want the public to know that we aspire to keep improving the game and to exceed legal mandates. We will continue to do more than what is required and, in fact, we intend to do what’s unexpected to assure football remains a positive influence on students, schools and communities.