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?

Mission Control

May 5, 2015

As we survey all that might be done in the future to improve the health and safety of student-athletes, it is good discipline to look to the past and recall when hype or hysteria caused well-intentioned people, and some not-so-well-intentioned people, to campaign for solutions to problems that either did not exist or could not be effectively addressed through mandates on school sports.

Over the years, school sports has been asked to address much more than what occurs on the practice or playing field. We’ve been asked to address drunk and then distracted driving; bulimia and bullying; texting and sexting; hazing and homelessness; seat belt use and steroids, which provides a perfect example of the limitations of fixing societal problems through mandates on school sports programs.

After more than a decade of voluntary educational efforts and just about the time when steroid use in schools began to trend downward, state legislatures caught wind of the “problem” and perhaps of potential political gain.

The University of Michigan Institute for Social Research reports that steroid use has been declining since 2005, which was just before the first state – New Jersey – enacted a law requiring schools to test high school athletes. Undaunted, the Texas legislature followed suit three years later. Undeterred, the Florida legislature followed the next year, and then Illinois lawmakers acted.

Florida discontinued its mandated drug testing program after just one year, and Texas is about to end its program, after spending nearly $10 million. Florida conducted 600 tests. Texas ran more than 60,000. Florida had one positive test. Texas reported less than one percent positive tests.

Because leaders of school sports have the statistics to link sports participation with improved attendance, achievement and attitude at school, we make our programs vulnerable to assault by passionate people who want our good programs to fix their bad problems. We have to be careful to avoid a situation where, in trying to address so many of society’s problems, we actually solve none; and worse, become distracted from our core chore of conducting safe, fair and sportsmanlike programs that make schools a happier, healthier place for student academic achievement.