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.)

Making a Statement

June 17, 2015

Amid the horrific destruction of Baghdad, the conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, Karim Wasfi, is making a statement. Mr. Wasfi has been carrying a chair and his beloved cello to the exact locations where violence occurs, very shortly after it occurs, and he plays.

With the roar of car bombs still ringing in ears and rubble still smoking, Wasfi plays. He told National Public Radio: “The other side chose to turn every element, every aspect of life in Iraq into a battle zone. I chose to turn every corner of Iraq into a spot for civility, beauty and compassion.”

The response of this single citizen to the catastrophic chaos in his city and country is especially powerful because of the beauty of his music amidst the brutality of civil war; but neither his gift nor the jolting juxtaposition should cause us to miss the message that our response to overwhelming problems could be and should be like his, even if less newsworthy from the perspective of a national radio broadcast. For example ...

  • We can wring our hands in despair that the Earth’s increasingly polluted air, land and waters are so far gone and the problem is of such great scale that nothing we could ever do will change things; or, we can choose to turn every corner of our little slice of the physical world into a less polluted place. We can make a statement.


  • We can weep over the slaughter of elephants, the leveling of mountains or the razing of forests or jungles by crooks or corporations that cannot see the consequences of their reckless avarice; or, we can choose to make our neighborhoods spots of beauty, conservation and sustainability. A statement.


  • We can cry ourselves to sleep over humanity’s inhumanity to those who look, dress or worship differently; or, we can choose to make our little community a welcoming place for refugees where long-suffering and persecuted people can feel safe and hopeful. A statement.


  • And we can become frustrated that the values of school sports are so regularly undermined by the excesses of youth, college, professional and international sports that it feels hopeless to hang onto what we believe; or, we can choose to devote ourselves to maintaining our little niche of the sports world as a more principled place ... where scholarship, sportsmanship, safety and a sensible scope are recognizable and reliable core values. A statement.


The great conductor carrying his chair and cello to the rubble is real. It’s also a metaphor which reminds the rest of us of other daunting problems and the opportunity each individual person has to make a meaningful response – a clear statement – where we live, work and play.