A Game Changer
July 9, 2012
In the year 2000, fewer than 300,000 books were published in the United States. In 2010, more than a million were published.
This means that electronic media didn’t kill the book publishing industry, as some experts predicted. Quite the opposite. But electronic media surely changed the industry in several major ways, including:
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It democricized the industry – made it cheaper and easier for almost all of us to publish whatever we want, whenever we want, even if only our family and closest friends might read it.
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It dumbed down the industry. With almost everybody able to produce almost anything, the average quality of published works has plummeted.
The importance of these book industry statistics to us is that they point to what can and does happen in other aspects of life, including school sports. They provide evidence that sometimes what we think might crush us, only changes us. Causes us to do things differently – cheaper, faster or better and, sometimes, all three at once.
Some of us in school sports may, sometimes, curse electronic media; but many of the changes they have brought us are positive. Like officials registering online, receiving game assignments online and filing reports online. Like schools rating officials online; and online rules meetings for coaches and officials. Like schools scheduling games online, and spectators submitting scores online. Like the ArbiterGame scheduling program the MHSAA is now providing all its member high schools free of charge.
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.