Builders
August 31, 2012
My counterpart with the Iowa High School Athletic Association, Rick Wulkow, recently spoke at a reception at the conclusion of his term as president of the Board of Directors of the National Federation of State High School Associations.
Rick reminded the assembled colleagues from across the country that, by sponsoring and conducting and regulating extracurricular athletic and fine arts opportunities, they were doing for the youth of America what is not done for youth in other countries.
Mr. Wulkow asserted with conviction and passion that there is no more noble calling than theirs: to provide and to promote and to protect programs through which students learn life skills and discipline. To be builders of young people and, through them, to be people who are strengthening schools, communities, states and our nation.
In a world where people seem often to be tearing things down, he said, “These programs build things up.”
Like me, Rick is a veteran. Now in his 33rd year with the Iowa association, Rick has been a coach, administrator and official (including 17 years as an NCAA Division I basketball official). His words put another charge in my own heart, perfectly timed for the start of public school classes (finally!) next Tuesday.
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.