War Stories

May 25, 2012

I recently returned from a national meeting of my counterparts – an annual gathering where legal and legislative topics are on the agenda. With increasing frequency, the business aspects of the gatherings are sidetracked by “war stories,” as my colleagues relate the latest attacks on their organizations by media, legislators, lawyers, parents and others as these good leaders assist their member schools in regulating interscholastic athletics. 

It is well known that respect for authority figures and organizations of all kinds has been slipping for decades; and there are many reasons for it.  What has made the decline even more apparent is the Internet where people can communicate with more speed and less consequence than before.

It is well studied that appropriateness of tone and language diminishes as one moves from face-to-face meetings, to telephonic conversations, to traditional letters, to emails, texts and Twitter.

People will usually research topics and learn more about the complexities of an issue before meetings and use dialogue to come to consensus during conversations.  They will be more circumspect and contemplative in correspondence (which means, literally, an exchange of letters).  But they will not hesitate to make assertions and cast aspersions without any factual basis in brief, one-sided email or social media comments; which usually adds nothing but acrimony to the issue.

Perhaps by being the No. 1 user of social media among the nation’s state high school associations, the MHSAA has made the problem worse.  Perhaps by being the only state high school association executive director in the country to blog, I’ve also added to the problem.

Sports, after all, is not a subject that often suffers from too little communication.  Perhaps, at least sometimes, it suffers from too much quantity and too little quality.

No Returns or Refunds

January 18, 2013

The “Boxing Day” tradition of New Zealand, like most of the current or former British Empire, is to return to stores on the day after Christmas the unwanted or ill-fitting gifts of Christmas. My wife and I exchanged no gifts this year, except for the gift of time with each other and our China-based son and his wife in New Zealand. So we had nothing to return, and we’ve had moments to savor.

Outside our window on Christmas Day was an extinct volcano rising 758 feet above New Zealand’s Bay of Plenty coast.  Its peak was hidden in clouds sent by the remnants of Cyclone Evan.  We couldn’t see the top of Mt. Maunganui; but our fragment of the Roberts family who had gathered for this holiday, below the equator and on the other side of the International Dateline, decided on a “Christmas climb” anyway.

Attempting a challenge whose goal is shrouded in uncertainty is an every-season experience of coaches, which may be the opiate that draws so many men and women to that vocation for so long, and consumes coaches so far beyond what are reasonable hours for most other occupations.

Even in the more mundane existence of a state high school association administrator, it is the unknown of each year, week and day that energizes the grind.  How boring it would be to know what’s at the end of each climb. How exciting it can be to come to a problem-solving table with good ideas and also with the expectation that the best ideas will come out of collaboration with others’ good ideas.

I count myself among the fortunate folks who, at the end of most days and weeks and years, do not feel inclined to want to return the gifts that each has brought.  And I’m still attracted to the discovery of what the next cloud-shrouded climb may reveal.