The Work I Want
December 22, 2015
I am long past the point of working because I have to. I work because I want to.
- Because I’m lucky to work with co-workers I enjoy and a board I care about and whose members care about me.
- Because I’m blessed to have work with a mission beyond the bottom line;
- Because I see needs that I feel qualified to fill very well;
- And, I’m equally certain, because I have needs that this work fulfills.
On some days or for some tasks, my passion is not great; but on most days and for most responsibilities I have, my passion is as great as ever. And it has never been greater for what I care about most. And that is to hold school sports accountable to ...
- Pursue programs, policies and procedures that emphasize local opportunities for large numbers of students in a healthy, respectful, educational environment; and
- Resist pressures to copy the elitism and commercialism of non-school programs.
There are more than enough people advocating that “anything goes.” My voice argues, “Not so fast.” I would much rather see school sports tackle a half-dozen difficult health and safety issues than spend a half-minute debating national travel and tournaments. The former needs all the passion we can generate; the latter has nothing whatsoever to do with the moral imperatives of school sports, and wastes our precious time.
Ali
July 8, 2016
My wife has never held famous athletes and coaches in very high regard. Much of this has to do with her disdain for misplaced priorities – so much attention and extravagant spending devoted to entertainment and sports when so much of the world’s population is without most basic essentials of life.
Because of my work, my wife occasionally has been in the company of some of the biggest names in American sports; but only one clenched her in rapt attention. It was Muhammad Ali.
We were attending a banquet at which Ali was honored. We sat at adjacent tables, with the back of my wife’s chair almost touching the back of the chair to which Ali was being ushered, slowly because of his disease.
We all stood as Ali entered. My wife’s eyes were on Ali; my eyes were on my wife, for I had never seen her give respect to a sports personality in this manner.
After the banquet, and at times since then, and certainly again after his death June 3, my wife and I have talked about what it is in Ali that she hasn’t seen in other prominent sports figures.
We noted that he brought elegance to a brutal sport, and charm to boastfulness. We cited the twinkle in his eye that outlasted his diseased body.
We recalled the tolerance and dignity he brought to his faith, and how he demonstrated his faith commitment at the most inconvenient time in his career.
We recalled his poetry when he was young and talked too much, and his use of magic to communicate after disease stole his words, as he did that night we were with him.
Years after that banquet, when Ali lit the Olympic flame at the 1996 Olympics, my wife cried. She had tears in her eyes again when that moment was replayed on the day after Ali’s death.
Ali ascended to worldwide fame in a different era – when professional media tended to be enablers more than investigative journalists, and before social media pushed every personal weakness around the planet overnight. It’s possible Ali would not have been as loved if he had emerged in public life today. It’s also possible he would have been even more beloved.