Our Job
January 29, 2013
When I’m asked to describe the MHSAA’s job in a three-second sound bite, I say: “Our job is to protect and promote educational athletics.”
Give me three seconds longer and I’ll say: “Our job is to protect and promote the values and value of student-centered, school-sponsored sports.”
Give me three seconds longer and I’ll add “. . . by raising standards for, and increasing participation in, educational athletics.”
And give me time to complete the thought and I’ll add that we do this through:
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training for coaches, officials and athletic directors;
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tournaments that keep sportsmanship levels high and both expenses and health risks low; and
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telling the story to these groups: students and parents, school personnel, and the media and public.
We provide training and tournaments, and we tell the story of school-based sports.
That’s the job. And it’s how we judge the “good idea du jour” that bombards our office. We can’t do everything. To do so would not be doing our job well.
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.