Fresh Air
June 30, 2014
On well over 300 of every 365 days each year I take a brisk early morning walk. One of the many things I’ve noticed over the years is how the smell of the exhaust of even a single passing automobile will stale the fresh air for several minutes after the vehicle is out of sight.
I’ve often thought there was a metaphor here that I could use in commenting on school sports; and my recent reading of Alistair MacLeod’s No Great Mischief gave shape to that thought when the novel’s central character said:
“. . . when we came to intersections, we would have to stop and then the blue whiteness of the exhaust would overtake us. We could see it and smell it. We thought we had left it behind us somewhere back on the road, but when we slowed down, it seemed to overtake and surround us.”
What we have in school sports that none of the so-called more “prestigious” brands of sports offer is fresh air. Purity. Wholesomeness.
This is our trump card, our ace-in-the-hole.
We lack the resources to compete on a marketing or promotional level with college and professional sports; and we look foolish and waste resources when we try.
But when we focus on local rivalries between nearby opponents – complete with pep bands and marching bands, fully-clad cheerleaders, pep assemblies, letter jackets and Homecoming parades and dances – we play to our strength. We’re local, amateur and just a touch corny. Charming is a better word.
As we travel in this direction, the air is clean and fresh. As we slow or even stop at the intersection of other choices, we will smell the foulness in the air and know immediately that the only course for educational athletics is the road we’re already on.
“Tournacation”
February 9, 2018
Here is one of several gold nuggets from Tom Farrey, executive director of the Aspen Institute, in a piece commissioned by the British Broadcasting Company and published in late December.
A study by George Washington University found that what children wanted most from sport was the chance to play and to try their best, guided by a coach who respects them.
Of the 81 reasons they gave for why sports were fun, “winning” came 48th, “playing in tournaments” 63rd, and “traveling to new places to play” 73rd.
Children’s wishes, however, are not always put first, as parents compete to provide what they believe are the best opportunities.
In the U.S., for instance, there may be no better example of the state of play than the growth of the “tournacation,” a term merging “tournament” and “vacation.”
At one of the nation’s largest children’s football (soccer) tournaments, in rural New Jersey, a drone in flight is best positioned to see the scale of such an event.
Up there, you can see the 75 pristine pitches that will host more than 600 teams of children aged nine to 14, chasing shiny balls, in shiny uniforms.
The cars of thousands of parents mass at the playing fields’ edges.
A two-day event such as this is an opportunity for organizers to make serious money, in this case up to $1,250 per team.
That’s on top of travel and hotel costs of as much as $500 and the $3,000 or more many parents pay each year to their child’s club.
It is an industry built on the wallets of parents, and the chase for opportunities to play in college, perhaps with a scholarship.
What the drone can’t see is how many other children – those who aren’t early bloomers, or whose families don’t have the funds, or time, to take part – have fallen away from the game.
They are often unable to join the best teams, which have the best coaches, training environments, and access to college scouts.
Football (soccer) has declined among those left behind, with fewer children joining either local teams, or playing informal games in the park.
Since 2011, the number of six- to 17-year-olds who play football (soccer) regularly has fallen nine percent to 4.2 million, according to the Sports and Fitness Industry Association.
The number of children who touch a football (soccer ball) at least once a year, in any setting, was down 15 percent.
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