Swimming Lessons
January 19, 2016
I found a place between Christmas and New Year’s Day that was out of Internet reach. For four days and three nights I spent most of the days in the water looking downward into an ocean of coral canyons surrounded by swarms of colorful fish, and much of the nights on the open deck of a catamaran looking up at a nearly full moon moving between stars and swirling clouds. Here is some of what I learned from experiences, rather than from Google, on those days.
First, flying fish really do fly, on average, about the length of a football field.
Second, sea urchins have an edible element, if the spiny critters are smoked in a fire of coconuts and palm fronds and then soaked in saltwater, and if you are either desperately marooned on some remote island or just trying to be nice to the local residents you just met who believe the urchin's slimy, salty core is a delicacy that hospitality requires be shared and graciousness demands be appreciated.
And, more relevant to the work we share that I tried unsuccessfully to tune out for these four days, I learned ...
What you see in the ocean is distorted until you put on your goggles and get beneath the surface of the water. Getting beneath the surface of things is necessary for clear vision.
What you see first is likely to be the flashy fish, while the greater significance is observed more slowly in what appears to be their inanimate habitats, which turn out to be alive with movement if you wait and watch for it. Patience is necessary for clear vision.
The wavy six-inch line of purple coral was really the lips of a large clam that actually separate a fraction of an inch every minute or so to take in the nourishment of the sea. The brown stump below it was really a sea cucumber that actually moves an inch or two a day to vacuum the ocean floor. I saw none of this until I got beneath the surface, and waited.
School Sports’ Influence
June 20, 2017
As I sat a year ago in an audience consisting of my colleagues from across the U.S., I shared the general frustration – or perhaps it was exhaustion – when a veteran member of our national sports medicine advisory committee discussed the role of high school sports leaders in addressing what he said posed the greatest threat to students.
That threat was nothing we had been working on so very hard for so very long. It wasn’t heads, heat or hearts. Not extreme weight loss in wrestling or, increasingly, in other sports. Not communicable diseases, especially in wrestling. It wasn’t specialization. Not performance enhancing drugs.
He reported that the greatest threat is accidents. Away from the practice and competition venues, and especially traffic accidents. He wondered what our role should be.
He acknowledged much we’ve done regarding so many issues in the past, and all the newer issues – such as opioid addiction, depression and suicide – that are pressing for our attention; but he said it was the same issue today that it has been for decades that most threatens students. Accidents. Especially automobile accidents.
He admitted that the time and place of this threat was not under the control of athletic coaches and administrators. But his point was that the time and place is still under the influence of coaches and administrators.
Say all you want that school sports is irrelevant in this age of video games and ubiquitous non-school sports. This physician knows the score. He knows that school sports still matters mightily to kids, and that those in charge of local school sports programs still yield great power over young people.
Pick a problem – almost any problem – and people want school sports to address it. From bullying to bulimia, from obesity to overuse injuries. It is unfair to ask us to do all this, especially when funding for school sports is considered a frill in so many places.
But it’s a heck of an honor to work in an area where people think we’re the solution, or at least a deterrent. So we keep trying.