No Shortcuts
November 28, 2017
Last Tuesday at the office building of the Michigan High School Athletic Association, 49 athletic directors gathered for training. All are first-year ADs, and 38 of them were attending their second training session at the MHSAA.
It was the fourth session for new athletic directors the MHSAA has hosted since late July. A total of 113 different first-year ADs attended.
That’s a typical number of new ADs. And we’re experiencing the typical problems with mistakes and oversights that turn into ineligibilities and forfeits that come not just from new ADs but also from more veteran ADs who have had many new duties added to their days, but with less time and help to do everything that needs to be done.
At one school, an overwhelmed AD resigned after his school’s football and soccer teams had both used ineligible players. The school posted the job opening to replace him with the salary set at 50 percent above the previous pay. It has learned that cutting the budget for sports administration can do a lot more harm than good.
Full-time, continuously trained athletic administrators are essential to the conduct of safe and successful interscholastic athletics. There are no shortcuts to success, and a competent leader who is hungry to keep learning about policies, procedures and best practices is the starting point.
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.