The Most Important Decisions
October 13, 2015
During the course of contests, coaches and officials make many mistakes – not as many as spectators might think, of course – but mistakes certainly do happen. In the heat of competition, most are quickly forgotten.
Those mistakes that occur near the end of games or are caught on camera can live longer than dozens of more consequential decisions earlier in the event that might later be determined to be incorrect in the 20/20 hindsight of “Monday morning quarterbacking.” But it is extraordinarily rare that any decision during a contest defines a career, or ends it.
No, the decisions that do most to damage, detour or destroy a coaching or officiating career are those made away from the contest. A bad impulse during a social outing, indiscreet comments or conduct caught on video and sent worldwide overnight, or an inappropriate email or website search ... these are the decisions that end up defining the career.
The stakes may be higher for decisions made away from the sport by coaches and officials than the decisions they make in the athletic arena. Every week’s sports news tells me this is correct. Hundreds or even thousands of people may witness a judgment call during a contest, while millions upon millions will be exposed to poor judgment exercised away from the contest.
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.