No Super-Sizing Needed
March 23, 2013
Airline travel today presents a confusing array of frequent flyer and credit card loyalty programs: Premier Access; Silver, Gold or Platinum Elite; etc. They allow a traveler to check bags without cost, visit airline club rooms free of charge, and board planes ahead of the rest of the herd.
The problem is that the airlines have established so many levels of elitism that the result is a confusing, meaningless mess. Which reminds me of other efforts to distinguish good, better and best, especially in youth sports.
In basketball, ice hockey, soccer, volleyball and other youth sports there are now so many programs that promote themselves as more elite than others, and so many tournaments that advertise themselves to be above others in terms of status or the presence of college recruiters, that the efforts to distinguish themselves are not at all meaningful, and almost laughable if they were not fooling and fleecing so many children and parents.
In contrast, school sports is not engaged in the never-ending addiction to add layers of competitions and levels of championships. We are just fine with league, district, regional and statewide tournaments and trophies. We do not need national-scope tournaments and all-star events.
In school sports, the titles don’t need super-sizing, and the trophies don’t need to be taller than the participants.
In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.