Oyster Stew
November 13, 2015
Jonathan Swift, an 18th Century writer I was introduced to as an English major in college, grabbed my attention and loyalty with the statement, “He was a bold man who first ate an oyster.”
I’ve hated oysters for their look, their texture and their taste; and also because, as a child, oyster stew was the Christmas Eve fare that stood between me and the time when we could begin opening presents under the Christmas tree.
But I have loved Swift’s metaphor.
Imagine the courage – or the desperation – of the first person to eat an oyster … or any other ugly, slimy critter ... raw!
But it is often this person, bold or desperate enough, who looks past appearances to tackle something of such unpleasant prospects, who actually makes the discovery or connects the dots or makes the breakthrough necessary for real progress.
What are the most unappetizing issues before us? Transfers? Football scheduling? Specialization? What unappealing solutions might we be avoiding because they look so awful? Are we bold enough to take a bite out of them?
Tending a Small Garden
June 12, 2015
I offer this posting as an important qualifier to my previous posting.
Year after year I expanded the borders of my garden. And year after year the overall quality of the garden declined.
I didn't notice at first. I failed to see as I introduced new plants that some of the older plants were struggling, or that other plants were growing without shape or direction. I didn't see that some weeds were taking hold in the original space that was receiving less of my attention than the newer space.
I am unable to miss this metaphor for school sports.
When we try to grow interscholastic athletics too large, we risk becoming incapable of maintaining the essential beauty and purity of educational athletics. Certain programs grow out of control, other programs weaken. Influences are introduced, some of which can be aggressive enough to take over the whole enterprise.
Let international, professional, major college and even youth sports grow out of control. Ours is and must continue to be a small garden, tended closely and carefully.