One-Case Causes

August 27, 2013

One of the characteristics I look for in leaders is the ability and courage to ignore certain problems. To not get worked up about every little thing and even some bigger things. To stay focused on long-term goals and objectives in the midst of fad and frenzy. To distinguish the merely hot topics from the much more important topics.

“One-care causes” – projects or campaigns launched to address an isolated incident, even of high profile – can drain the resources and distract an organization from the larger and longer lasting issues that demand even more attention than we may be devoting to them.

We must not confuse one incident with a trend. We shouldn’t assume that an isolated situation demands an immediate solution, or that every single problem needs a top-down, systemic remedy.

Sometimes a problem – ineligibility, forfeit, unsportsmanlike act – really is limited to a particular student or school, or confined to a single coach, contest or community. And in those situations, leadership means leaving them alone and letting the matter be handled by people closer to those situations.

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.