Domestic Solutions

September 6, 2013

Kudzu was introduced to this continent in the late 1800s to control soil erosion in the southern United States. Now, this fast-growing Asian climbing vine is choking out all other vegetation. This seriously invasive species is growing at a rate faster than 150,000 acres each year in spite of millions of dollars spent to control it.

Asian carp were introduced to this continent one hundred years later, primarily for the purpose of cleaning commercial catfish ponds in Arkansas. They escaped into the Mississippi River and have proliferated, eating voraciously and growing to immense proportions. They now threaten the commercial fishing industry of the Great Lakes.

When we invite what appear to be relatively easy outside solutions to difficult internal problems, we invite more serious problems.

Whatever issues we face in school sports are best addressed by schools themselves using the resources at hand. No outside agent can be introduced to solve the problems we confront. No software is the silver bullet, and no sponsor provides the sustenance to keep educational athletics not only alive, but well.

It is up to us alone – administrators, coaches, officials. Using the natural resources right in front of us. Here and now.

I’d prefer to see the kudzu and carp when I travel in Asia, not America.

In An Instant

August 4, 2015

The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.

My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.

Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.

What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.

A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.

I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.

We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.