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.
Failing Boys
July 9, 2012
In the autumn of 2002, I included the following statement in a longer editorial in the MHSAA Bulletin:
“Year after year I go to league and conference scholar-athlete awards banquets and see girls outnumber boys by wide margins: 54 girls to 33 boys honored at a March event in mid-Michigan is typical of what has occurred many places over many years.
“Year after year, I attend senior honors programs and see girls outnumber boys: 147 awards to girls versus 70 awards to boys honored at a May event in mid-Michigan is typical.
“Look at these figures from the National Federation of State High School Associations:
• “68.3% of vocal music participants are girls.
• 66.4% of participants in group interpretation speech activities are girls.
• 63.3% of participants in individual speech events are girls.
• 62.7% of orchestra members are girls.
• 61% of dramatics participants are girls.”
Nothing since that time has changed my opinion that schools and society at large are expecting far too little of boys. It’s as if boys get a free pass from high expectations if they do sports and don’t do drugs. Far too little is asked of far too many of our male students.
Now add this to the story: There is a growing body of research that supports the premise that while high school sports participation is great for girls, it’s actually bad for high school boys. Bad because it leads to lower participation in non-athletic activities, lower achievement in the classroom, and lower scores on measures of personal conduct and character than their female counterparts.
Males are dropping out of high schools at higher rates and enrolling in colleges at lower rates than females. They’re abusing drugs at higher rates than females, and males are committing both violent and petty crimes at much higher rates than females. Could much of this be linked to the low expectations we have for high school students? Isn’t it time for organized advocacy on behalf of boys?