Leading with Heart
June 26, 2018
“I hope you have thick skin.”
Those were my mother’s first words when I informed her in 1986 that I would become the executive director of the Michigan High School Athletic Association. Mother spoke from experience, being married to the executive director of the Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association from 1957 through 1985. She witnessed how consistent and cruel criticism can be toward those administering a competitive enterprise which almost daily declares winners and losers by virtue of time, distance or score.
The past 32 years have shaded my hair and softened my waist; and while the years have also toughened my hide, they have not hardened my heart. From the very first days until now, I’ve led with my heart and exposed my passion and convictions.
I do not apologize that I’ve placed greater importance on character building than skills development. On team over individual. On the needs of the 99 percent of participants over desires of the one percent of elite athletes. On subvarsity programs. On junior high/middle school students.
On practice, more than competition. On the regular season, more than postseason tournaments. On multi-sport participation. On leadership training. On sportsmanship. On coaches education, especially with respect to health and safety.
There will always be calls for more ... longer seasons, additional games, more distant travel, larger trophies. More necessary are the voices that recall the mission of competitive sports within schools, recite the core values of educational athletics, and work to reclaim the proper place of sports in schools and of school sports in society.
I believe that under-regulated competition leads to excesses, but properly conducted and controlled competitive sports is good for students, schools and society; and I believe a life devoted to coaching or administering such a program is a life well lived.
Tools of Thought
July 13, 2018
(This blog first appeared on MHSAA.com on May 11, 2012.)
I am famous at home and office for my lack of keyboarding skills. The only “C” grade I received in high school was a summer school course in what was then called “typing.” At Dartmouth I paid a woman who worked at the dining hall to type my college papers. In an early job at the University of Wisconsin I typed the play-by-play of Badger football and basketball games with a clumsy “hunt-and-peck” approach.
Today, with the same lack of style, I pound out dozens of emails daily, hammering the keys like my first manual typewriter required four decades ago.
But for any document of great length or importance, I do as I’ve always done: take up pencil (my software) and legal pad (my hardware). There is no question that, for me, the nature of the equipment I’m using for writing affects the nature of the thinking.
With his eyesight failing late in his life, Freidrich Nietzsche bought his first typewriter, changing from pen and paper to the new technology of the 1800s. According to a 2008 article in Atlantic Monthly by Nichols Carr, a friend wrote to Nietzsche in a letter that, since adapting to the telegraphic style, Nietzsche’s terse prose had become even tighter. To which Nietzsche replied: “You are right, our writing equipment takes part in the forming of our thoughts.”
Which makes one wonder where all today’s tweeting and texting may take us.