Making a Statement
June 17, 2015
Amid the horrific destruction of Baghdad, the conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, Karim Wasfi, is making a statement. Mr. Wasfi has been carrying a chair and his beloved cello to the exact locations where violence occurs, very shortly after it occurs, and he plays.
With the roar of car bombs still ringing in ears and rubble still smoking, Wasfi plays. He told National Public Radio: “The other side chose to turn every element, every aspect of life in Iraq into a battle zone. I chose to turn every corner of Iraq into a spot for civility, beauty and compassion.”
The response of this single citizen to the catastrophic chaos in his city and country is especially powerful because of the beauty of his music amidst the brutality of civil war; but neither his gift nor the jolting juxtaposition should cause us to miss the message that our response to overwhelming problems could be and should be like his, even if less newsworthy from the perspective of a national radio broadcast. For example ...
- We can wring our hands in despair that the Earth’s increasingly polluted air, land and waters are so far gone and the problem is of such great scale that nothing we could ever do will change things; or, we can choose to turn every corner of our little slice of the physical world into a less polluted place. We can make a statement.
- We can weep over the slaughter of elephants, the leveling of mountains or the razing of forests or jungles by crooks or corporations that cannot see the consequences of their reckless avarice; or, we can choose to make our neighborhoods spots of beauty, conservation and sustainability. A statement.
- We can cry ourselves to sleep over humanity’s inhumanity to those who look, dress or worship differently; or, we can choose to make our little community a welcoming place for refugees where long-suffering and persecuted people can feel safe and hopeful. A statement.
- And we can become frustrated that the values of school sports are so regularly undermined by the excesses of youth, college, professional and international sports that it feels hopeless to hang onto what we believe; or, we can choose to devote ourselves to maintaining our little niche of the sports world as a more principled place ... where scholarship, sportsmanship, safety and a sensible scope are recognizable and reliable core values. A statement.
The great conductor carrying his chair and cello to the rubble is real. It’s also a metaphor which reminds the rest of us of other daunting problems and the opportunity each individual person has to make a meaningful response – a clear statement – where we live, work and play.
Prep Prose
January 27, 2017
Mick McCabe retired in December after almost five full decades at the Detroit Free Press.
When Mick agreed with me, he did so boldly. When he disagreed, he sometimes did so brutally.
He was at his best, and did most for school sports in Michigan, when he told the stories of coaches and athletes in the cities, suburbs and small towns all across our state. Especially when he told the stories of those who would never coach or play a game beyond the high school level. Especially when he found and focused on an unknown person in a low-profile sport who raised our spirits by reminding us of how good educational athletics can be.
Mick may have written more words about high school sports in Michigan than any person ever. And that's saying a lot when one remembers Jack Moss and Bob Gross and Bob Becker and Jane Bos and Del Newell and Cindy Fairfield and a dozen other retired sports writers in our state whose substantial bodies of work promoted prep sports.
School sports usually has been well-served by such media professionals who were allowed by their industry to take the time necessary to know the people and the policies that served school sports, and were allowed the space to develop stories that went beyond headlines, tweets and texts, with fuller facts and closer truth than is the norm today.