Big Lessons for Little Leaguers
March 13, 2015
The only thing worse than adults corrupting kids for their own glory and gratification is politicians trying to excuse those adults so the kids learn nothing positive and much that’s negative from the situation.
So, things went from bad to worse when the mayor of Chicago tried to pressure Little League Baseball to restore the victories and championships that the Jackie Robinson West All-Stars baseball team claimed during the 2014 Little League World Series while some of its players were in violation of the organization’s residency rules.
So far, the kids have learned that it’s not right to cheat. The mayor would have them learn that you can avoid the consequences of cheating if you know people in the right places.
Little League is a victim of its own success. The more hype it has brought to what once was a healthy local game for 9-12 year olds of modest skills – the more it has become a spectacle for all-stars who, really, are merely those children who have matured the most – the more it has raised the stakes, the more Little League Baseball has invited excesses and even corruption.
This trend will only get worse; and it will get worse much faster if the politicians try to overpower those Little League officials who are still trying to hold things in check. Those so-called “stubborn” leaders offer Little League its biggest and best legacy.
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.