Words from Down Under
February 1, 2013
In the County Hotel, one of the few buildings in Napier, New Zealand, that survived the 1931 earthquake in that region, there is a library of books that have been left by previous travelers and may be exchanged for books of current travelers. Among the books I found was Lord Cobham’s Speeches. Lord Cobham was the Governor General of New Zealand from 1957 to 1962.
From his speech at the “Sportsmen Luncheon” in Wellington, NZ, 52 years ago today, I found these pearls:
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“. . . sport is a great character-former; it teaches that self-control which must always precede self-expression, and that gracious acceptance of defeat is the gold to victory’s silver.”
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“Sport is harmony, balance and rhythm, the triple heritage handed down from ancient Greece, without which art is barren and civilization itself out of joint. Above all, the acquiring of a technique is increasingly important in an age when automation and the machine have robbed human beings of that sense of fulfillment that comes of fine craftsmanship.”
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“Today we see the result of trying to hustle youth through childhood and adolescence into manhood and womanhood. Education is one of the few things that cannot be hurried, although modern techniques may facilitate instruction, for which education is often mistaken . . . In these instances, sport and games can and must play an increasingly important part in producing well-balanced citizens. But before we do this, we must see to it that the games themselves don’t fall victims to the prevalent evils of selfishness, sharp practice and greed.”
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“It is when the player of the game thinks himself greater than the game that both get into trouble.”
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.