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.
Kicking Bad Habits
May 4, 2018
Forty years ago, as a youngster on a venerable staff at the national office of the National Federation of State High School Associations, where the playing rules for high school football were published, I would entertain my colleagues with a quixotic proposal – year after year – to eliminate the kickoff from football.
As a college player, I got my first playing time as a member of the kickoff team. I knew it was because the coaches didn’t want to risk injury to better players.
As a high school coach, when I conducted preseason scrimmages, I always insisted that kickoffs not occur because I didn’t want to risk season-ending injuries before the season even began.
So, as the world of football from youth levels to the pros is eliminating kickoffs or altering rules to reduce their frequency, I write smugly, “What took you so long?”
Rules committees on every level for every sport have an obligation to examine the data for their sports closely and determine precisely the circumstances that cause the most injuries. And then they must create and enforce rules that will eliminate or greatly modify that most injurious situation.
If the data tells us now what my gut told me as a young coach and administrator, we should give kickoffs the boot.