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NFHS Voice: Football Powerful in Healing
December 27, 2019
By Karissa Niehoff
NFHS Executive Director
Dates of some tragedies are etched in our memories forever. On September 11, we pause to remember the thousands who perished in 2001 as a result of the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and the hijacked United Airlines Flight 93 that crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
Many individuals remember where they were when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963 and/or when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned down on April 4, 1968.
Unfortunately, in the past 20 years, there are several dates stamped in our memories because of shootings in our nation’s schools, such as the ones at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, on April 20, 1999, and Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, on February 14, 2018.
And on December 14, 2012, the nation wept when 26 people, including 20 children, were killed during the mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. While this tragedy tore the hearts of people nationwide, it was profoundly personal to me.
I was executive director of the Connecticut Association of Schools-Connecticut Interscholastic Athletic Conference and, on that day, was attending a meeting with the Commissioner of Education and the Board of Directors for the Connecticut Association of Public School Superintendents. The commissioner was interrupted to take a private call, left immediately, and shortly thereafter the news of a “school shooting” reached the nation.
Suddenly, what previously was important became insignificant as we were all shocked at yet another senseless act of violence. As details of the shooting rampage were released, the incident became more and more horrific. The principal of Sandy Hook Elementary at the time, Dawn Hochsprung, was one of the six adults who perished that day. She was a personal friend of mine.
So, like millions of Americans earlier this month, I was overcome with emotion when Newtown High School won the CIAC Class LL State Football Championship – seven years to the exact day of the Sandy Hook tragedy. Newtown won the state title on the last play of the game as Jack Street – a fourth-grader at Sandy Hook in 2012 – threw a touchdown pass just as the fog lifted enough to be able to see downfield.
Once again, high school sports, and football in particular, was a unifying activity for a community. Amid the sorrow of the day, this incredible storybook finish by the Newtown High School football team gave everyone in the community – at least for a moment – the strength to continue the healing process.
We have seen time after time when high school sports provided students, parents and those in our communities a means to come together, to band together and to rise above struggles arm in arm. This was but the latest example.
The grieving process will continue for those people who lost loved ones in the Sandy Hook tragedy, but this amazing effort by these high school football players brought smiles and tears of joy to a community that has not had many of those emotions for the past seven years.
Bobby Pattison, the Newtown High School football coach, had the following to say after the state title:
“The great thing about football and sports in general, moments like this bring people together,” Pattison said. “These guys had an outstanding year. To win a state championship, to win on the last play, it’s been a tremendous accomplishment. And these boys deserve it. They’re a great bunch.”
The value of high school football for communities across America? We would suggest what happened in Newtown, Connecticut, this season says it all.
Dr. Karissa L. Niehoff is in her second year as executive director of the National Federation of State High School Associations (NFHS) in Indianapolis, Indiana. She is the first female to head the national leadership organization for high school athletics and performing arts activities and the sixth full-time executive director of the NFHS, which celebrated its 100th year of service during the 2018-19 school year. She previously was executive director of the Connecticut Association of Schools-Connecticut Interscholastic Athletic Conference for seven years.
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School Sports Reflection: Play to Learn
December 7, 2018
By Christopher Mundy
Special for benchmarks
Christopher Mundy is a graduate of Manton High School and Michigan State University and the principal of Mundy Advisors Group in Chicago. This commentary previously was published this summer in the Traverse City Record-Eagle.
What are sports really about today? And are today's parents missing the point? Time, money, effort and energy. All for what? Trophies, medals, first place, a college scholarship or that top-five draft pick and that multi-million dollar contract that come with it. Fortune and fame?
Why does American society have such an obsession with sports, and are the true values of the games being lost in the “new” modern era of sports?
What if the games kids played were for the pure values of competition, hard work, camaraderie, trust, respect, discipline, communication and relationship building? Even just expressing these words and phrases seems healthier than the win-at-all-cost, everyone-gets-a-trophy, playing for the “end game” society we currently live in.
What messages are we instilling/infusing in our future leaders? It has become a strong and consistent message across all fronts – the arms race to be the best and win at all costs.
Families sacrificing their most precious resources, time and money, for what? For the golden child, the chosen child ... that special one. A glimmer of hope that becomes a burning obsession (for the parent). Are parents attempting to right their wrongs of their playing days or relive their youth through their child? It is an easy and complex trap.
I don’t have children, but I have played sports for nearly 40 years. I have coached, officiated, watched and listened closely at all levels. A spectator with an intense passion for the lessons to learn and a strong curiosity of why and how. I guess at 45 I am old ... or maybe just old-school.
Being raised on an isolated farm in Northern Michigan with a dirt driveway and a makeshift basketball hoop created the love affair with sports. Games of pig, horse or around-the-world with my father are some of my fondest memories. He has since passed. He would always shoot with his off-hand or easy bunny shots to finish me off. And Dad always told me, if you want to play in the fourth quarter, be a 90-percent free-throw shooter and the coach has to put you in.
Baseball would entail games of rain on the roof by myself and a homemade batting tee to hit home runs into the pasture. Football was either offense-defense (three-person football, with my father as quarterback) against my older sister or breakaway running plays against my aggressive dogs; a stiff-arm was my best defense. No video games or cable television on our farm, maybe this fueled my fire or forced my hand. It sure did not make friends want to come over for sleepovers.
Small town America was a great place to be raised. I am biased in that regard. I do think it takes a village to raise a child. Sports was and is the fiber of these communities; it was reality TV before reality TV, and what Friday Night Lights was based on. Kids playing a game for a common goal. It could not be more simple or pure. They are called “games” for a reason. When did we start taking it so seriously? Where did we go wrong?
In high school, we were pretty good. You put kids together since kindergarten and they kind of know and trust each other, they know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They know more than this. They know each other’s families. And extended families. They pretty much know everything about each other. Which family is broken and which one may have a little more love at their dinner table. Good or bad, this is the reality of being raised in a small town.
Our basketball team was so good we received a top-five ranking, and legendary Detroit Free Press writer Mick McCabe compared us to Hickory, Indiana, in the movie “Hoosiers.” No Hollywood ending for Manton in 1991 though.
This is where the lessons of sports become real; the harsh reality of your childhood fantasies begin to fade, and fade quickly. The hours spent in that driveway will lead to no state championships. The early morning trips to the gym to play against your adult coaches would lead to no college scholarships. And the thousands of hours in the weight room lifting, jumping rope and wearing ankle weights would lead to no multi-million dollar contract. Devastating. Crushing. The end?
No. This is just the beginning.
This is the beginning of life’s toughest lessons being learned. This is where the sweat of your youth meets the tears of maturity, leading to a wisdom that is worth more than any trophy. Maturity is processing these challenging life lessons, learning from them and moving on. If you do not let go of these failures, the burdens can lead you to a life of regret or maybe becoming that aggressive parent trying correct his or her shortcomings through a son or daughter. You know these parents from your kid's games, and I hope you are not one of them.
It has often been stated more is learned from losing than winning. The lessons from failure burn deep, etched into our soul, this pain more powerful than the glory of victory. These lessons and scenarios easily translate to our personal relationships and work life. Memorable. Powerful anecdotes that become part of us. Part of or history. Part of our story. Erase these chapters from our lives, and what are we left with? A shell of a person. A half-written book. A journey half-walked. Perspective with no depth.
These kinds of lessons can’t be learned in a textbook, cannot be explained by a parent or modeled by a teacher in a classroom. The field, the court, the rink is where these lessons are learned. Where family values are refined. Manners are taught. And respect is earned.
Or is it?
This is the crossroads we are at as a society. I cannot think of any other vehicle that offers so much potential and opportunity for the building of character. It starts with the family. And where does it go from there? School, church, a job. The military. A fraternity. Volunteering? An internship or apprenticeship? A civic organization?
Nope. Sports.
Sports is the most dynamic and able tool to build character. The kind of character we need right now as a country and society. Polished. Refined. Character with a sharp edge. An edge called courage. But the reality is sports has become about money, power and control. Are these qualities desirable? Have they corrupted the innocence of sports? Do we worship false idols? Is this generation entitled? Have we given them too much? Made it to easy?
Are the kids having fun? What do the kids want? Do kids have and show a genuine passion for a sport? Have we dared to ask them? Have we prepped them with the appropriate answer? Or do we answer for them? Do we hear them OR do we listen to them? To clarify, listening is an active process of hearing and then processing. Coach Tom Izzo starts each basketball camp with, “Learn to listen ... and listen to learn.” It is that simple.
I do think communication is vital to this process. Communication between all parties: athletic directors, coaches, parents and players. Governing bodies. All stakeholders. A real and raw dialogue on what we collectively want out of sports. Because somehow we have gotten lost, and the many headlines and feature stories confirm the crossroads where we’ve arrived.
Do we as leaders, adults, parents care enough to look into the mirror and ask the tough questions? Or is it just easier to proceed as is? If you believe sports has a larger impact than trophies, medals and ribbons, a larger value than money, then I encourage you to start the conversation with those around you. Our communities’ futures depend on these conversations.
We may soon reach a point of no return, and this would be a catastrophic failure for our generation. When playing for the “love of the game” is just a marketing tagline and not a real opportunity for our kids. For our children’s sake, I hope this is not the case. I know I am a better athlete, better professional and better human from all the losses in my life.
Play hard. Play to compete. Play with passion. Play to learn.