Our Narrative
November 21, 2011
Thomas Friedman – author of The World is Flat, From Beruit to Jerusalem and Hot, Flat and Crowded, among other major works – has a gift for converting complicated topics into moving narratives. So I took note, during President Obama’s second year in office when, in a New York Times column, Mr. Friedman took the President to task for a communication gap.
Friedman wrote that the President doesn’t have a communications problem per se (in fact, he’s been one of our nation’s more articulate chief executives), and he has a good grasp of facts on many subjects.
What he has, according to Friedman, is a narrative problem. “He has not tied all his programs into a single narrative that shows the links between his health care, banking, economic, energy, education and foreign policies.” Without this, wrote Friedman, people do not see these are all “building blocks of a great national project.”
Regardless of one’s opinion of Mr. Obama as President and Mr. Friedman as pundit, those responsible for school sports should pause over this observation or opinion; should stop to consider how all the projects and programs we contemplate either do or do not help us tell the story of educational athletics in Michigan.
The narrative for school sports can be compelling. When and where programs maximize participation and promote high standards of eligibility, conduct and care; when and where programs demonstrate quality coaching and officiating; and when and where it can be demonstrated that the programs are not merely compatible with the educational mission of the school but actually improve attendance, raise GPAs and increase graduation rates; then and there we have a coordinated and convincing narrative.
Projects and programs that produce and promote these results will be the kind of building blocks that tell our story and should generate popular support for many more years to come.
Long-Term Effects?
November 4, 2014
A recent report of NBC News has raised concern for the possibility that prolonged exposure to one of the latest versions of artificial turf might contribute to the chances that a person will contract some forms of cancer. This came as cruel irony to many who have raised funds for and installed the latest facilities that were intended to be much healthier both for participants and our environment.
It is reported that the millions of old tires that have been diverted from landfills and then ground up and spread to soften artificial playing surfaces may release elements that contribute to disease for those who spend enough time on those surfaces. Touted to be softer and protect participants from joint injuries and concussions, and advertised to promote a healthier environment by recycling old tires and avoiding the need to constantly fertilize and water natural grass fields, it’s now being suggested that this artificial product may be the less healthy alternative for participants and the environment.
As of this writing, the health benefits of current generation artificial turf are well documented, while the health risks are unproven – there is anecdotal evidence, for example, that soccer goalies who have spent many hours per week for many years diving and rolling on the new turf may have ingested unhealthy levels of the tiny black rubber pellets that give the artificial turf its soft “natural” feel.
Nevertheless, this situation is a humbling reminder of how difficult it is to assess all of the unintended consequences in the future of our actions in the present. How might a product that solves many obvious problems be anticipated to have a link to a hidden illness many years later? How might a person who plays a single sport many hours each day all year long anticipate the overuse injuries or other illnesses that such an obsession or devotion might cause?
The questions being raised about the long-term effects of long-term interaction with today’s artificial turf remind us once again to seek moderation in how much we do of any one thing and to seek humility when we think we’ve accomplished something. One seldom can be certain of what is good for us and what is not; and sometimes even the long view of things is not long enough to know.