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.
“Just A Spectator”
July 6, 2016
I have often employed one of two strategies for my attendance at MHSAA tournaments.
The one I have used least frequently is to stand where spectators enter and welcome them or, after the events, position myself at exits and thank spectators for attending. I’m an introvert, so this doesn’t come naturally and I don’t do this often, even though I’m gratified by receiving a “Thank You” from nearly every spectator who responds.
The strategy I have used more often is to be “just a spectator” – to stand in line to purchase a ticket, find my unreserved seat and listen to the people around me – folks I don’t know and who don’t know me. I’m more comfortable with this anonymous undercover approach, and I tend to learn more.
I learn that there is a general appreciation for the differences between school-sponsored sports and sports on all other levels by all other sponsors.
The spectators appreciate the inexpensive admission prices, but they complain about the cost of concessions at the college and professional venues in comparison to the school venues which host MHSAA tournaments.
I see that, generally, girls compete with more obvious joy than boys. I see that injuries are few; but, when they occur, they are taken seriously and attended to professionally. I see that the players exhibit better sportsmanship than anyone else at the venue.
The spectators expect and generally accept that mistakes will be made – by players, coaches and officials. They are hardest on officials; but many parents are hard on players, coaches and officials alike. I find this the most discouraging aspect of attending high school athletic events, which otherwise re-energizes me for the MHSAA’s work.
And I see that the MHSAA has much work to do, and that our work of the past several years to enhance the spectator experience is important, and that our work is far from finished – not just at our most high profile finals, but also (maybe especially) at lower profile championships and earlier round tournaments of many sports. This is a priority for which the MHSAA is getting more help in 2016-17 – engaging professional expertise to enhance our amateur events.