Health and Safety A, B, Cs
August 18, 2015
At a recent staff meeting I asked those who had attended the annual summer meeting of the National Federation of State High School Associations to report their most prominent impression. One person said, and the others agreed, that almost every session and every topic eventually turned to health and safety.
Indeed, that is the filter through which we determine priorities, the lens through which we view every problem, and the scale on which we weigh every decision ... now more than ever.
This mindset is not the result of epidemic dangers in school sports, but because the limitless reporting of isolated incidents has created the impression that school sports is dangerous.
In fact, these are the healthiest times ever to be a high school athlete. Never have we known more and done more to improve every aspect of the experience. Give me any letter of the alphabet, and I can give you a positive progress report: A – Acclimatization policies; B – Bat standards; C – CPR requirement ... and so on.
Often our impressive progress is used against us. Make an improvement and someone is sure to spout off: “See? It isn’t safe. We need to ban it or at least remove sports from schools.”
This is why we usually pair program improvements with promotions to re-emphasize the value and values of school sports for students, schools and society, and the impressive health and safety record of school-sponsored sports.
Click “Health & Safety” for a comprehensive review of what’s going on.
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.