Interruptions
November 23, 2011
I know many of us crave the opportunity to work without distractions and to focus on a problem or project without interruptions. It’s why I seek a week alone at my cottage to read, write and rehearse. It’s my “sabbatical.”
But having said that about the significant benefits of solitude, I nevertheless must state that the sixth and final lesson in this series of blogs is this: The job is the interruptions.
I brought this lesson to the MHSAA from previous employment and it resonates truer today than ever.
The job is the call from the athletic director, coach or official who has a question. The job is the call from the superintendent, principal or parent with a concern.
The job is the knock on the door from another staff member with a difficult question from a constituent, or even a personal issue that’s important to them.
It’s often been when I’ve treated the call or knock as nuisance, given it inadequate time or attention, that the little interruption grew into a bigger problem.
The job is the interruptions. If there were none, we wouldn’t be needed. There would be no job.
Destiny
January 9, 2018
Editor's Note: This blog originally was posted May 01, 2012, and the timeless message is worth another read.
A University of Wisconsin football player from my hometown years ago was hit from behind in the closing minutes of spring football practice. It caused an injury that required surgery. That caused him to miss the next fall’s football season; and to protect him from further injury, he was allowed to skip the following spring’s football practice and to work out with the Badgers baseball team.
He ended up leading the Big Ten Conference in hitting, and he eventually received the largest signing contract in the history of professional baseball, becoming the first “Bonus Baby” for Gene Autry’s Los Angeles Angels.
“If not for that injury in football,” he once told an audience, “caused by an unskilled walk-on in the last five minutes of the last spring football practice, I would never have played college baseball. I would never have played Major League Baseball for 11 seasons.
“You never know,” he said, “when you are five minutes from your destiny.”