Fundamentals vs. Fads
July 9, 2013
During the summer weeks, "From the Director" will bring to you some of our favorite entries from previous years. Today's blog first appeared Aug. 9, 2011.
While examining some ancient fabrics at the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo, Norway, my wife explained to me the “warp and weft” of weaving – how the vertical fibers are the warp and the horizontal fibers are the weft.
What intrigued me about the ancient remnants was that the vertical fibers of wool had survived the centuries so much better than the left-to-right-fibers of linen and silk. I was informed that the vertical fibers (the warp) gave the fabric its durability, while the horizontal fibers (the weft) provided the design. And the strength lasted long after the color had faded.
My vacationing mind then jumped quickly across the ocean and centuries to my working preoccupation with the essentials of school-based sports. I reflected on how certain principles on which educational athletics are based have withstood challenge after challenge over time, even as some of the earlier features of school sports have faded.
This travel memory will serve as a reminder to me to focus on the fundamentals – on those core values of school sports that are essential and allow us to claim that the programs are educational – and to worry less about the superficial features that will inevitably change with the trends and fads over the years. Determining which is which – distinguishing fundamentals from fads – is one of the challenges the leaders of school sports must face.
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.