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Baloney

January 27, 2015

When I was in high school and college I worked a different job each summer, usually looking for hard labor that would help prepare my body for the next football season, and each time confirming that it would not be my choice for lifetime employment. One summer I worked at a lumber yard and paper mill complex along the banks of the Wisconsin River.
Every day I ate lunch with the men who had made this their life’s work; and I grew in ways both positive and negative as I listened to their conversations and tales. We all brought our own lunch pails.
One day, one of the more veteran employees opened his lunchbox and flew into a rage. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed. “Baloney again! I hate baloney.”
Trying to calm him down, another worker said, “If you hate baloney so much, just ask your wife to make you something else.”
To which the complainer replied, “That won’t work. I make my own lunches,” which resulted in an uproar of laughter from the rest of us.
I thought of this incident recently as I was preparing to meet with constituents about the rules they most love to hate: policies relating to coach and player contact out of season. Those are our most criticized rules.
But it occurs to me, if we don’t like the sandwich we’re eating – out-of-season coaching rules – we should remember: we made them ourselves, and we can change them. In fact, no one is in a better position to do so than we are. And no one has a greater duty to do so than we have, if we really are in need of a new recipe.

Carry On

April 27, 2018

For many years my vocation has been that of executive director of the Michigan High School Athletic Association.  My vocation -- not my occupation, which has the connotation of a pastime that merely consumed my days and years, or a space that only my physical presence has been taking up.

No, this has been my vocation, in the sense of the root word “vocari,” which means "to be called.” The MHSAA has not been my job; it’s been my purpose.

Anyone who knows my background would understand.

I grew up at the home of the executive director of the Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association who was my role model as spouse, father and man. I was a twenty-something staff member of the National Federation of State High School Associations under the mentoring of Clifford Fagan, one of the deepest thinkers in the history of educational athletics. It was he who encouraged me to write about our work.

Anyone who has worked with me, listened to me or read what I've written would understand.

Everything has pivoted on protecting and promoting the core values of school-sponsored, student-centered athletics: policies, procedures and programs that put academics before athletics and attempt to develop the whole child.

For example, I see sportsmanship not as some corny promotion, but as a critical issue of educational athletics. I view good sportsmanship as a precursor to good citizenship. This is not the mindset of a man on the job, but of a man with a mission.

Going forward, those who love and lead school sports in Michigan must avoid doing those easy things that increase the scope and stakes of competition. Instead they must address every day those difficult policies, procedures and programs that enhance the physical, mental and emotional values of interscholastic athletics to students and the value of educational athletics to schools and society.

It's not more competition that is needed in high school sports, but more character. Not more sport specialization that's needed in junior high/middle school sports, but more sport sampling. Less attention to celebrating hype in sports events for youth, but more attention to cultivating life long-habits and good health for adults.

In leaving the MHSAA after 32 years this summer, I will have some regrets ... sad to be leaving the company of great staff and some extraordinary colleagues in our member schools ... sorry that even though we worked so hard and accomplished so much, there is still so much to do to keep school sports safe, sane and sportsmanlike. 

There’s lots to do. Carry on.