Planning & Doing

January 31, 2012

One of the MHSAA’s counterpart organizations in another state recently asked to see the business plans of other statewide high school associations.  Some of the states supplied their detailed budgets, but most had nothing to offer.

Of course, a budget is a much different thing than a business plan.  A budget is built more on past performance, while a business plan looks more to the potential of future problems and opportunities.  A business plan is much more than numbers.

Since 2007 we’ve been using a “Mission Action Plan” (MAP) at the MHSAA.  It was developed to deal with the opportunities and obstacles of three powerful trends:  (1) growth of non-school youth sports programs; (2) expansion of educational alternatives to traditional neighborhood schools; and (3) proliferating technology.

While not a typical business plan or a classic “strategic plan,” the “MAP” has become increasingly useful to point the way for the MHSAA both in terms of program and finance.  The MAP states a single “Overarching Purpose;” it identifies four “Highest Priority Goals;” and it lists four multi-faceted “Current Strategic Emphases,” many of which have quantifiable performance targets, including financial goals.

Next to each Current Strategic Emphasis are two boxes.  The first is checked if we’ve gotten started, and the second is checked when we’ve completed the task or are operating at the level we had established as our goal.  At this point, every MAP strategy has been launched, but only a portion have earned the second checkmark.

Quite efficiently, the MAP keeps us both strategic and businesslike without the formality of purer forms of strategic or business plans.    

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.