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Culture Wars
January 24, 2017
Our purpose in school sports is to help develop the whole child. That’s why we do not advocate that sports consume a child’s whole life.
We recognize that it’s not good to get too much of a good thing. Too many hours devoted to sports and too many months devoted to the same sport can lead to a life that is out of balance and unhealthy.
Unfortunately, every restriction we impose to protect children from such risks and to promote their good health is exploited by others. For example, by non-school club coaches that covet our kids. And by almost every convention and visitors bureau in the country that is sponsoring sports events to boost their local economy.
While we talk of balanced participation and a long-term approach that leads to a lifetime of physical activity, better health and reduced medical expenses, we are out-shouted by a culture that does not have the whole child in mind. Our frame of reference is helping to raise a healthy human being, which is challenged by a culture that is more intent on raising revenue from the athletic dreams and fantasies of children and their parents.
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In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.