![](/sites/default/files/imported/DirectorSig2H.jpg)
“What Can I Do?”
October 16, 2015
One of the very first chapters that educators wrote on the fundamentals of school-sponsored, student-centered sports described the bad of single-sport specialization and the benefits of multi-sport participation. And the basic policies of educational athletics have flowed for decades from that philosophy.
Sadly, every reasonable restraint that educators placed on school sports was eventually exploited by non-school youth sports organizations and commercial promoters which have seen the world quite differently and have filled almost every gap in school sports programs with alternative or additional programs that started sooner, traveled further, competed longer and ended later than educators believed was healthy for youth and adolescents and compatible with their academic obligations.
Recently (and as reported in this space on Sept. 15, 2015), there has been a chorus of concerns from many different corners echoing the voices of educators who had just about given up on this issue. Suddenly, early single-sport specialization by youth is being attacked from many directions as being injurious for youth, and the multi-sport experience (aka, “balanced participation”) is being advanced as the healthy prescription.
Now I’m being asked by interscholastic athletic administrators: “Yes, I hear the chatter, and I see the evidence and anecdotes; but what can I do?” Well, one idea is to follow the lead of St. Joseph High School Athletic Director, Kevin Guzzo.
Last school year Kevin started the “Iron Bears Club” to recognize and reward the school’s three-sport athletes. And last month Kevin made the multi-sport imperative a central theme in his annual report to the St. Joseph Board of Education.
Little steps in a local community? Perhaps. But multiply Kevin’s efforts by 500 or more schools in Michigan? It could be a sea change. And it would be good for kids.
![](/sites/default/files/imported/DirectorSig2H.jpg)
In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.