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.
Leading with Heart
June 26, 2018
“I hope you have thick skin.”
Those were my mother’s first words when I informed her in 1986 that I would become the executive director of the Michigan High School Athletic Association. Mother spoke from experience, being married to the executive director of the Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association from 1957 through 1985. She witnessed how consistent and cruel criticism can be toward those administering a competitive enterprise which almost daily declares winners and losers by virtue of time, distance or score.
The past 32 years have shaded my hair and softened my waist; and while the years have also toughened my hide, they have not hardened my heart. From the very first days until now, I’ve led with my heart and exposed my passion and convictions.
I do not apologize that I’ve placed greater importance on character building than skills development. On team over individual. On the needs of the 99 percent of participants over desires of the one percent of elite athletes. On subvarsity programs. On junior high/middle school students.
On practice, more than competition. On the regular season, more than postseason tournaments. On multi-sport participation. On leadership training. On sportsmanship. On coaches education, especially with respect to health and safety.
There will always be calls for more ... longer seasons, additional games, more distant travel, larger trophies. More necessary are the voices that recall the mission of competitive sports within schools, recite the core values of educational athletics, and work to reclaim the proper place of sports in schools and of school sports in society.
I believe that under-regulated competition leads to excesses, but properly conducted and controlled competitive sports is good for students, schools and society; and I believe a life devoted to coaching or administering such a program is a life well lived.