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.
In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.