Participant Celebrations
March 13, 2012
I was born and raised in Wisconsin; and I hope that I’m forgiven for cheering for our Lions in all but two games each year – when they play the Green Bay Packers. I just can’t shake that long loyalty.
I’m a lifelong Packer fan, one who was actually present when Don Chandler’s disputed field goal beat the Baltimore Colts (that’s right, Baltimore) on a day when running back Tom Matte was pressed into action as the Colts’ quarterback.
I was also present when Bart Starr followed Jerry Kramer’s block on the Cowboys’ Jethro Pugh to win the 1967 “Ice Bowl” in 17-below-zero weather in Green Bay.
For all these reasons and more, I’ve loved the “Lambeau Leap” which celebrates Packer touchdowns.
But, I don’t want such acts in high school sports.
The national high school rule makers have done a terrific job of controlling participant celebrations in high school sports.
After a tackle or quarterback sack, there’s no strutting or pointing in high school football. After a touchdown, there’s no prancing or end zone dancing in high school football.
Pick any sport: High school athletes will be the best behaved athletes on any level of the sport. It’s one of our trademarks. Our brand. And something we can be proud of.
(We do have one participant conduct problem, but that’s for next time.)
The Limitation of Rules – Part 1
September 2, 2016
From the age of 10 to 20, my position as a baseball player was catcher. Sometime during that decade I was taught to return the ball to the pitcher with authority, with a snap throw from my ear, targeting the glove-side shoulder of the pitcher.
I caught every inning of every game, including doubleheaders. In those years, there was less concern than today for protecting the arms of pitchers, and there was no thought given to the throwing arms of catchers.
Today, the shoulder of my throwing arm is shot; I cannot throw a ball overhand with any force.
But here’s the thing. I didn’t ruin my throwing arm in youth and school baseball; I wrecked it as an adult doing silly things with a tennis ball on the beach with my teenage son. We had a blast for a summer afternoon, and I’ve paid for it the rest of my life.
The point of this brief baseball bio is to demonstrate an example of the limitations of rules.
We can identify dozens of risks to student-athletes and we can promulgate an equal number of rules to help them avoid injuries in our programs; but we cannot protect them against a lack of common sense in our programs or accidents in other aspects of their lives.
Even if we implement new rules to limit the number of pitches by a player, what good is that if, after reaching the limit, the pitcher and catcher switch positions? Do we need a rule to address that coaching decision too?
Do we need rules that prohibit large students from practicing against small, or experienced players from competing against inexperienced? How would we ever monitor or enforce such rules? Where do rules leave off and common sense take over?
Even if we put players in bubble wrap for sports, what do we do about their decisions away from sports, perhaps in vehicles, with their friends and their cell phones? Where do laws and rules stop, and personal responsibility start?