Priming the Pump
November 28, 2014
Today and tomorrow bring an end to the MHSAA’s fall tournament season that, overall, experienced the worst weather I’ve witnessed in my 29 years of watching our fall events. We are grateful to those hearty fans who followed their favorites through wind, rain, ice and snow.
The MHSAA’s “bread and butter” is its season-ending tournaments. Try as we might to diversify our revenue, all our non-tournament revenue sources combined continue to account for less than 15¢ of every $1 the MHSAA generates. Sponsorships, broadcast rights fees and officials registration fees make a contribution to our enterprise; but the MHSAA operates without membership dues, fines and tournament entry fees.
That leaves gate receipts (ticket sales) as the largest (by far!) source of revenue; and it’s the football and basketball tournaments that pay the way for the many tournaments that the MHSAA operates at a financial loss (we call it an investment).
Because of this narrow flow of revenue, I asked a team of MHSAA staff to take a comprehensive look at the MHSAA’s marketing of its tournaments. Over a series of energetic meetings, these imaginative staff members have compiled a list of ideas to promote MHSAA tournaments by better using existing means and opening up new avenues to generate interest and increase spectator support.
The MHSAA Representative Council will soon vet and vote on a wide variety of ideas generated by our in-house task force. The objectives are a growing customer base enjoying an improved customer experience.
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.