Risks & Rewards
May 7, 2012
When my terrific son was a college student, I suggested he get into sports officiating. You know, to earn some money, stay involved in sports, keep in shape. His response was “No. It’s not worth the hassle.” He didn’t want to subject himself to being criticized, heckled and second-guessed; and I couldn’t blame him.
Which told me then (and I’m reminded often) that sports officials are risk-takers. Men and women willing to step out and step up.
The best officials make the toughest calls at the tightest times in the competition. They’re risk-takers in ways mere spectators are not.
And in this so-called “modern world,” where people can sit comfortably at home and comment irritably on everything, and fans can text, tweet and transmit videos instantly, it has never taken more courage to be a sports official than it does today.
Tomorrow evening, for the 33rd consecutive year, the MHSAA hosts a banquet that honors our most veteran MHSAA registered officials. Officials who have reached the 20-, 30-, 40-, 45- and 50-year service milestones will be recognized; and Rockford’s Lyle Berry will receive the Vern L. Norris Award for a lifetime of grassroots contributions to high school sports officiating in Michigan.
It is one of the rare occasions when we ask officials, referees and judges to step out of the background and into the spotlight. Without any risk.
A Walk in the Woods
July 3, 2018
(This blog first appeared on MHSAA.com on July 30, 2010)
My wife and I were on a long walk through the woods and back roads of west Michigan this summer when she remarked, “We’re not lost; but we don’t know where we are.”
We knew how to get back to our car, but we didn’t know the direction we were headed. “We’re not lost,” I mused; “but we don’t know where we are.”
That’s an apt description for interscholastic athletics. We could back-track on the path to the origins of this journey, so we’re really not lost. But I don’t know anyone who really knows where we are, which direction we might be headed.
There are few who have viewed interscholastic athletics from more angles than I; but I’m not any clearer about the future than the newest coach or most casual fan. I’ve looked at high school sports as a coach, and as the son of a coach. I’ve been involved as a player, and as the parent of two players. I’m the son of a state leader and the protégé of a national leader. I’ve been an administrator at the state and national levels. I’ve read the old histories and handbooks, and I’ve talked at length with key leaders of the past. But I don’t know where we’re headed.
Where does this path lead that relaxes or eliminates out-of-season practice and competition restrictions for athletes and their coaches? From the repeated complaints of coaches and administrators, it’s evident that path was a bad choice; but how now to find our way back? We’ve taken a few steps back, but we know it was downhill to this point and a tough uphill climb back.
Where, if ever, is the end of this path that leads to more and more commercialization of sports? Where are we being taken as high school associations in other states relax or eliminate amateur and awards rules?
Where are the sporting goods manufacturers and street agents taking high school basketball? Will the game that has captured hearts and minds for generations continue its charm when the pervasive corruption of college basketball is exposed or it infects high school heroes beyond healing?
When, if ever, will the government’s thirst to regulate sports be quenched? Where, if ever, will the requests end for extra protections and privileges for special groups?
When, if ever, will seasons be long enough, travel far enough and the stakes high enough to satisfy promoters? Where are we being taken as high school associations in other states take down the barricades placed on those paths by the pioneers of our programs?
Eventually, on our walk through the woods, my wife and I determined it was time to turn around and head back toward our starting point. We didn’t think we could go any further ahead and still make our way back. We knew we didn’t have the power of mind to remember more turns. We ran out of memory before we ran out of energy.
I worry that some of those who are pushing the limits of high school athletics have forgotten where they parked the car. And having forgotten this, they wander in vain through the woods, trying this turn and that.
They’ve run out of memory, but not energy; and sadly, they drag us along, deceiving us and perhaps themselves that it’s only around the next corner or over the next hill that we will see clearly again or reach our goal.
(Note: This was first published in the MHSAA’s August 1995 Bulletin and in 2000 was included in the book Raising Expectations, which is now a part of the MHSAA Library.)