Data is Due
December 4, 2015
Allow me to wander way outside my expertise for a moment … to quantum physics. I believe this is the discipline where it is said that “something doesn’t exist until it is described and measured.”
This statement embodies one of the reasons the MHSAA has mandated that, beginning this school year, member schools must report all possible head injuries in the practices and events of school sports. We want to get at least a general description and approximate measurement of our story here as we listen to the nationwide narrative about health and safety in school sports.
Early returns – that is, preliminary numbers for fall sports – are being presented to the MHSAA Representative Council today. A public release will follow before the end of the year. A more complete report – based on fall, winter and spring sports – will be provided after the conclusion of the 2015-16 school year. And in the future, year-to-year comparisons of the numbers will provide a more meaningful story.
The MHSAA is also gathering data from two pilot programs that are intended to increase attention on sideline concussion detection and recordkeeping, and also from the concussion care insurance the MHSAA has purchased for all participants in all MHSAA member junior high/middle schools and high schools beginning this school year.
Data from all three initiatives may help those who make the equipment and prepare the rules of play in the ongoing campaign to make our good school sports programs even better.
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.