Show of Hands
July 12, 2017
Four dozen years ago, my boss, the executive director of the National Federation of State High School Associations, expressed to me his disappointment that one of the characteristics of NFHS national meetings was the much too frequent “show of hands.” That is, someone from one state would rise to ask for a show of hands on a topic: “How many states do this? ... How many states don’t? ... How many do that?”
My mentor’s point was that the time would be much better spent on a qualitative analysis of the topic, rather than a quantitative one ... a discussion of the merits of a particular policy or procedure, rather than a head count.
His message to me is recalled every time a proposal comes to the Michigan High School Athletic Association to change this or that policy and is accompanied by the meager rationale that it’s what 25 or 35 or 45 other states might do. That stat holds only mild interest for me.
Before we do anything here to be like anybody elsewhere, we need to measure the pros and cons in our place and time ... how it fits our culture or our climate, for example.
When we consider change in the start or end of seasons; or the number of interscholastic scrimmages or contests in a day, week or season; or the number of exceptions to the transfer rule or the length of ineligibility when no exception applies; or the number of classes or divisions for tournaments; or the existence or extent of seeding for a tournament; when we consider any of these things in Michigan, we need much better rationale than a show of hands.
An Athlete’s Father
December 16, 2014
My father died two years ago today. His life was filled with extraordinary success as an athlete and coach and was complimented with countless accolades as an administrator. But what he was best at was being a father.
He was especially adept – instinctively, not by any book of instruction – at being an athlete’s father.
The only unsolicited advice I can ever remember him offering me was to “stay tense through the whistle” on the football field, believing a player was most at risk of injury when letting down in anticipation that the play was ending.
Dad never critiqued my play or criticized the coach’s play-calling. If there was ever a parent who had earned the privilege of hovering, it was he; but he never did.
Dad understood that most people need praise more than a push, and approval more than advice. As an athlete’s father, he was perfect.