Cutting Kids
September 25, 2012
As an athlete, I dreaded the days. Even when I was a returning starter, I approached with anxiety the page taped to the locker room door that would indicate who made the high school basketball team (and, by omission, who didn’t).
As a coach, I refused to do it. I wasn’t even tempted to cut anybody from my squads. But I was lucky. I coached football and golf, and the outdoor practice venues gave us enough room for almost limitless opportunities.
As a parent, I’ve cried over it. Watching my older son be cut from a non-school basketball program for junior high boys (he switched to wrestling in high school and had a fine career). Watching my younger son be cut four times from the travel soccer team (he made it on the fifth try and started for his high school freshman and junior varsity soccer teams during the two years after that).
At no time have I been more deeply troubled and saddened than watching the world of sports, to which I devote my working life, say, “No thank you” to my sons, to whom I dedicated my entire life.
As an administrator, I grieve over the process every year. I listen to complaints of parents. I watch them go from allies to enemies of high school sports.
Why would we limit squad sizes for outdoor sports?
Why would we cut freshmen who haven’t even matured yet and have only a little idea what they might like or be good at?
Why would we not find room for a senior who has been on the team for three years and continues to have a good attitude and work ethic?
Why would we turn away eligible boys and girls who would rather work and sweat after school than cruise and loiter?
Why do we persist in shutting out and turning against us the parents who would be our advocates today and the students who would be our advocates in the future?
The Complete Job
August 28, 2015
The difference between the great painters, poets and photographers and the rest of us is that they actually did the work, all the way through to completion. The same can be said for the greatest athletes, coaches, officials, musicians and artists. They actually did the work.
One of our most accomplished contemporary writers is Ann Patchett, author of six novels and volumes of nonfiction. She has written: “You can be smart and have the most compelling story, but if you can’t make yourself sit down and block out the noise around you, then that story will remain forever in your head.” You have to actually do the work.
One of the most important roles of schools and the MHSAA is to tell the story of school sports. We have a compelling narrative full of value and values for students, schools and society. But the story won’t get told unless we do the work.
First and foremost, this means delivering a values and value-filled program by coaches and administrators at practices and events, season after season and day after day.
Only a fraction less important is conveying to school boards, the media and the public what’s going on ... telling our story through every means available: in person, in writing, through all forms of electronic media.
Over the decades, we have managed millions of practices and events; but that’s just part of the job. Completing the job means that we must also do the hard work of managing the message of school sports ... giving meaning to educational athletics, and explaining it. Our job is not over until we do.