My Best Man

January 15, 2013

Upon the death of my father last month, a sports writer from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, who was preparing a story on my father’s career as athlete, coach and Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association executive director, asked for my insights about Dad and his impact on me.  I could have written a book, but here’s what I had space to say . . . just the right length for a blog:

“Dad served at a time before electronic media and online meetings when state high school association executive directors traveled their states doing rules meetings, thus building stronger relationships with coaches and officials than is common in our work today.  And in Dad's case, because he was THE expert in high school wrestling rules in the United States, Dad traveled the country presenting wrestling rules meetings in states where wrestling was an emerging high school sport.  It is not an exaggeration to say Dad was the ‘father of high school wrestling in America.’

“Dad and I worked together when he headed the WIAA and I was an assistant director at the National Federation of State High School Associations in the 1970s, allowing us to form an even closer bond in both our personal and professional lives than most fathers and sons enjoy.  In those days, when there was a particularly difficult speaking assignment at a national meeting on school sports, Dad would be one of the first people whose name came to mind to address that topic.  He was a forceful speaker; and I expect that my nationwide speaking trail owes a great debt to the many times as a youngster that I traveled with Dad when he gave sports banquet speeches.

“I'm told I idolized Dad when he coached, and know I admired him as a state association executive, and he was my closest male friend ever -- even ‘Best Man’ at my wedding.  He was a great model as a father, husband and leader.

“At his retirement dinner in December of 1985, a spokesperson on behalf of the state's coaches said:  ‘John, we didn't always agree with your decisions, but we never once doubted your motives.’   I can't think of a greater compliment for any man who worked so long in such a controversial line of work, which Dad loved so much.”

Dad's Day

April 23, 2012

Today is my father’s 92nd birthday.

Until my wife replaced Dad as my best friend, he doubled as both my best friend and father.

Dad has been inducted into 13 halls of fame nationally, and in Iowa where he was a two-time undefeated state high school wrestling champion, and in Wisconsin where he was a two-time Big Ten wrestling champion for the Badgers before a stellar career as high school and college coach, especially in football and wrestling.  All that before his 29½ year tenure as executive director of the Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association.

For two decades Dad chaired the national high school wrestling rules committee, and he traveled nationwide to conduct wrestling rules meetings for coaches and officials in states where local expertise in the sport had not yet developed.  It is not a stretch to call him the father of high school wrestling.  Certainly no person had greater influence than he during the sport’s formative years on the high school level.

And no person had more influence over my formative years.

So it is becoming increasingly painful to observe my father falter, as all people do who live as long as he has. Simple tasks require an increasing amount of assistance; significant talks fill a decreasing amount of our time. It is agonizing to one who has adored him.

When Dad served the WIAA, his sharp mind and strong voice would make him a top choice to address the toughest topics at National Federation meetings.  He received the National Federation’s Award of Merit and is a member of its Hall of Fame.

But perhaps the most meaningful memory I have of Dad’s professional life occurred at his retirement event in late 1985 when the person representing the state’s coaches said this:  “John.  We may not have agreed with your every decision, but we never once questioned your motives.”  There can be no higher praise.