Weighing Change
September 21, 2011
The national high school wrestling rules committee changed the weight classes for the 1994-95 season; and it changed them back for the 1995-96 season.
This is one of several reasons why Michigan has not adopted the national committee’s changes for the 2011-12 season. At the very least, we’re going to wait to see if the change survives.
The 14 weight classes that will continue in Michigan are as follows: 103, 112, 119, 125, 130, 135, 140, 145, 152, 160, 171, 189, 215 and 285.
The national rules for 2011-12 are: 106, 113, 120, 126, 132, 138, 145, 152, 160, 170, 182, 195, 220 and 285.
In delaying the change for MHSAA member schools, the MHSAA Representative Council listened to the overwhelming sentiments of the state’s high school wrestling coaches. Many have criticized the new weight classes because they eliminate a middle weight where most high school wrestlers are found and they add an upper weight class where many teams already have holes in their lineup.
Standing pat also eliminates the need for new expenditures for printed materials and software programs.
The greatest inconvenience of not changing is when our schools along the borders of Indiana, Ohio and Wisconsin compete with schools of those states. This is creating questions related to the weight monitoring program and seeding.
The MHSAA will stay in frequent, close contact with high school wrestling coaches and their administrators as future decisions are made.
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.