Misdirection
July 22, 2013
During the summer weeks, "From the Director" will bring to you some of our favorite entries from previous years. Today's blog first appeared May 22, 2012.
I often arrange my days so I can see their sunrises and sunsets; so I have seen more of them, and paused longer over them, than most people I know. But in spite of the large number I’ve seen, I still have some favorites.
Without question, my most memorable sunrise was observed this past January as I stepped out on the balcony of a hotel room in Panama City, cup of coffee in hand, and watched a huge, red-golden sun rise out of the Pacific Ocean. That’s right, the Pacific!
I was in one of those relatively rare locations in the world where the Pacific Ocean is located east of the Atlantic Ocean.
Nearby, great ocean-going ships were traveling east through the Panama Canal in order to reach their western destinations more efficiently.
And beneath the ocean surface, the trim tabs of the huge ships’ rudders were being turned to the left to help the ships steer right, and to the right to help the ships steer left.
Sometimes it is quicker or more economical or just more acceptable to go in one direction for awhile in order to reach an ultimate goal that’s in the opposite direction.
The Limitation of Rules – Part 1
September 2, 2016
From the age of 10 to 20, my position as a baseball player was catcher. Sometime during that decade I was taught to return the ball to the pitcher with authority, with a snap throw from my ear, targeting the glove-side shoulder of the pitcher.
I caught every inning of every game, including doubleheaders. In those years, there was less concern than today for protecting the arms of pitchers, and there was no thought given to the throwing arms of catchers.
Today, the shoulder of my throwing arm is shot; I cannot throw a ball overhand with any force.
But here’s the thing. I didn’t ruin my throwing arm in youth and school baseball; I wrecked it as an adult doing silly things with a tennis ball on the beach with my teenage son. We had a blast for a summer afternoon, and I’ve paid for it the rest of my life.
The point of this brief baseball bio is to demonstrate an example of the limitations of rules.
We can identify dozens of risks to student-athletes and we can promulgate an equal number of rules to help them avoid injuries in our programs; but we cannot protect them against a lack of common sense in our programs or accidents in other aspects of their lives.
Even if we implement new rules to limit the number of pitches by a player, what good is that if, after reaching the limit, the pitcher and catcher switch positions? Do we need a rule to address that coaching decision too?
Do we need rules that prohibit large students from practicing against small, or experienced players from competing against inexperienced? How would we ever monitor or enforce such rules? Where do rules leave off and common sense take over?
Even if we put players in bubble wrap for sports, what do we do about their decisions away from sports, perhaps in vehicles, with their friends and their cell phones? Where do laws and rules stop, and personal responsibility start?