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.

“How” Matters More

March 4, 2014

“It’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.” We’ve all heard that bromide, especially when we were just starting out as young athletes.

Well, it does matter who wins. Any time a score is kept, the result of the competition matters to people. And there is very much that is very good about trying to win – giving one’s best effort to prepare for and execute a victory. Trying to win is much better than not trying to win. Sloppy effort does not benefit the participants, or anybody else for that matter.

And this unveils the deeper truth of that tiresome platitude: how you play the game is more important than who wins the game.

One of many events that proves this point to me is a football game played late in the season nearly two decades ago. A team from the east side of our state played against a team from the west side. I don’t remember the final score. I don’t remember which team won the game. But I do remember that there was an ugly incident at the end of the game. 

How that game was played in its closing moments has stayed with me for longer than who was victorious.