No Returns or Refunds
January 18, 2013
The “Boxing Day” tradition of New Zealand, like most of the current or former British Empire, is to return to stores on the day after Christmas the unwanted or ill-fitting gifts of Christmas. My wife and I exchanged no gifts this year, except for the gift of time with each other and our China-based son and his wife in New Zealand. So we had nothing to return, and we’ve had moments to savor.
Outside our window on Christmas Day was an extinct volcano rising 758 feet above New Zealand’s Bay of Plenty coast. Its peak was hidden in clouds sent by the remnants of Cyclone Evan. We couldn’t see the top of Mt. Maunganui; but our fragment of the Roberts family who had gathered for this holiday, below the equator and on the other side of the International Dateline, decided on a “Christmas climb” anyway.
Attempting a challenge whose goal is shrouded in uncertainty is an every-season experience of coaches, which may be the opiate that draws so many men and women to that vocation for so long, and consumes coaches so far beyond what are reasonable hours for most other occupations.
Even in the more mundane existence of a state high school association administrator, it is the unknown of each year, week and day that energizes the grind. How boring it would be to know what’s at the end of each climb. How exciting it can be to come to a problem-solving table with good ideas and also with the expectation that the best ideas will come out of collaboration with others’ good ideas.
I count myself among the fortunate folks who, at the end of most days and weeks and years, do not feel inclined to want to return the gifts that each has brought. And I’m still attracted to the discovery of what the next cloud-shrouded climb may reveal.
The Old Is New Again
October 23, 2015
In the hidden back reaches of my closet at home I’ve kept some ties, suits and pants I have not worn for many years, forgotten as I purchased or was given newer and more fashionable clothes. Needing space, and heeding my wife’s suggestion that it was time to donate what I never wear, I gave my wife a fashion show of my long-neglected wardrobe. I wanted her help to decide what to discard.
Some of the items I modeled brought back memories of happy times, like weddings and reunions; others of sadder times, like funerals. Some items were laughably out of style. But, surprisingly, some of the oldest items looked the best ... almost as good as the most recent additions to my wardrobe. They were, in fact, back in fashion.
This caused me to recall that some of the discarded policies of educational athletics are working their way back in fashion. For example …
- For many years, even after many states changed their rules, the MHSAA was criticized for prohibiting member schools’ students from wearing full equipment at and participating in the full-contact summer football camps of universities and commercial organizations. Now, with greater attention to improving acclimatization and reducing head contact in football, other states are returning to the policies we never discarded: contact-free out-of-season football camps and clinics.
- Equally “dishonored” by those who believe there is never too much of a good thing have been MHSAA rules that limit the number of contests and the distance of travel. After years of more and more of everything, the new normal of severely limited school sports budgets makes our modest schedules more virtuous than ever.
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For many years, MHSAA policy has stood apart from most states by limiting students to competing in only one level of a sport in a single day … no JV and varsity in the same day, no fifth or sixth quarter rule. Now, with even greater attention to reducing head and overuse injuries and other student health and safety issues, our rules look both protective and progressive, not overly restrictive.
If a man waits long enough, even his narrowest tie or widest lapel will be back in fashion; so what makes me cling to old clothes also makes me think twice about changing established rules. It is just as difficult to restore a discarded rule as it is to wear a discarded jacket.
It’s always easier to relax a policy than to restore it when we rediscover we need it.