Undue Hardship
January 20, 2017
When appeals are made to the Executive Committee of the Michigan High School Athletic Association to advance the eligibility of a student for school sports, the argument is often made that application of the rule creates a hardship for a student who is not permitted to participate in competitive school sports.
Across the country when issues like these move beyond the appeals processes of state high school associations to courts of law, judges will sometimes opine that the student will suffer an undue hardship if he or she cannot play for a season, school year or career.
Given what is happening in our world, it always strikes me as absurd that anyone would allege or any court of law would rule that not being able to participate immediately or even at all in school sports is an undue hardship. There is hardship in the world, but sitting out school sports shouldn't appear on a list of hundreds of hardships being endured around the globe.
Consider, as I do regularly in one of my chief activities apart from my daily occupation, the hardships that are being endured by those who are fleeing a growing list of war-torn countries, by those who have been confined to refugee camps for many years, even by those who are fortunate enough to be resettled from those camps to far-away countries with different languages and customs.
These are real hardships that should embarrass those who suggest that sitting out school sports for a single contest or an entire career is a hardship. And the heroes are not those who challenge athletic eligibility rules but those who are being resettled in new nations, accepting work that is beneath their skills and experiences, and raising families who want nothing more than for their families to live in peace and security.
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.