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Making the Game Safer
October 6, 2015
I’ve recently overheard two insightful perspectives about football.
From an attorney for the National Federation of State High School Associations (I’m paraphrasing): “We need to remind people that we didn’t invent football. We are the ones making it safer.”
From a professor at Michigan State University (again I’m paraphrasing): “In the 1950s when automobile injuries disturbed the national conscience, we didn’t abolish cars; we made it safer to drive them. That’s where we are with football today – recognizing dangers and making the game safer.”
What this means to me is that there’s little need to be on the defensive or apologetic, but much need to be on the offensive and to be optimistic about football’s future.
Never has the equipment been better than it is today. Never have coaches been better educated about player safety. Never have there been more safety rules, and never have officials had more authority and encouragement to enforce those rules. This is true for all school sports, but most obviously so for school-sponsored football.
We are on offense, have been for years, making a game that was very good to me as a player even better, every year, for participants at the secondary school level today.
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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.