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?
Long-Term Effects?
November 4, 2014
A recent report of NBC News has raised concern for the possibility that prolonged exposure to one of the latest versions of artificial turf might contribute to the chances that a person will contract some forms of cancer. This came as cruel irony to many who have raised funds for and installed the latest facilities that were intended to be much healthier both for participants and our environment.
It is reported that the millions of old tires that have been diverted from landfills and then ground up and spread to soften artificial playing surfaces may release elements that contribute to disease for those who spend enough time on those surfaces. Touted to be softer and protect participants from joint injuries and concussions, and advertised to promote a healthier environment by recycling old tires and avoiding the need to constantly fertilize and water natural grass fields, it’s now being suggested that this artificial product may be the less healthy alternative for participants and the environment.
As of this writing, the health benefits of current generation artificial turf are well documented, while the health risks are unproven – there is anecdotal evidence, for example, that soccer goalies who have spent many hours per week for many years diving and rolling on the new turf may have ingested unhealthy levels of the tiny black rubber pellets that give the artificial turf its soft “natural” feel.
Nevertheless, this situation is a humbling reminder of how difficult it is to assess all of the unintended consequences in the future of our actions in the present. How might a product that solves many obvious problems be anticipated to have a link to a hidden illness many years later? How might a person who plays a single sport many hours each day all year long anticipate the overuse injuries or other illnesses that such an obsession or devotion might cause?
The questions being raised about the long-term effects of long-term interaction with today’s artificial turf remind us once again to seek moderation in how much we do of any one thing and to seek humility when we think we’ve accomplished something. One seldom can be certain of what is good for us and what is not; and sometimes even the long view of things is not long enough to know.