The value of sports in AMERICA
Abronze plaque bearing the words of poet Henry Newbolt hangs over the gymnasium entryway at the school where I began my teaching career. These words establish the tone for my view of sports: “To set the cause above renown. To love the game beyond the prize.”
In our time, the role of athletics has exploded. Starting in elementary school, kids are trained like professionals and high school students move from one school to another for the sake of visibility and fame; college athletes are able to earn literal fortunes while transferring willy-nilly from one campus to another. Coaches make salaries that some of us believe are way beyond their worth to society, and professional athletes make the glory of ancient Olympians pale. Money talks, consuming the attention of so many. The recent PGA/LIV business deal seems to underscore the premise that money trumps ethics and morality. While I have discomfort with the salaries that athletes and their coaches earn, I worry more about the potential distortion of values inherent therein. We are known by what we esteem most highly. Fame, glory, money. Commitment, loyalty, integrity. Service to others. All of these are far from mutually exclusive, but when we devote our energies to one goal, we have less of the same for other objectives. We have limitations.
Thinking back to the 1950s, I recall role models who helped shape my worldview. I grew up in New York and Massachusetts, so this region of the U.S. was alien to me, except that on New Year’s Day we watched bowl games.
On Jan. 1, 1957, the Texas Christian Horned Frogs and the Syracuse Orangemen squared off. While I was a northeasterner, I was attached to the Frogs. They were Christian, and so was I. Both teams had first team consensus All-Americans: Jim Brown of Syracuse from Long Island, N.Y., and Jim Swink of TCU, who hailed from a small town in east Texas.
Brown is regarded as one of the best running backs in NFL history. I loved watching him run with the ball, and later admired that he became prominent in the civil rights movement. When Swink, the “Rusk Rambler,” graduated from Texas Christian, he declined an offer from the Chicago Bears and went to medical school, later serving as an Army physician. Even as a young boy, I thought this was cool. These men were role models for any time and in vital ways.
I’ve always thought that athletic participation should be about ensuring physical health and learning lifelong values. If that sounds old-fashioned, I am reminded of the Declaration of Independence and the Ten Commandments.
These issues stand out for me:
Accepting responsibility for one’s actions.
In the fall of 1981, I coached high school football. Our team was rather mediocre in terms of wins and losses, but we showed up every day.
One beautiful autumn afternoon, we found ourselves in yet another dogfight. Midway in the second half, we launched a drive. On a crucial third down, I sent in a play. It unfolded perfectly as our tailback came wide open. We were assured of a first down and more.
Our quarterback, who as an adult is an extraordinary educational leader and wonderful author of sports novels, unfurled an errant pass. We were all frustrated. As the quarterback came to the sideline, having been replaced by our punter, I greeted him with a question of what went wrong. His immediate response was, “I didn’t do anything. It’s Lincoln’s fault.”
No, it wasn’t Lincoln’s fault. It was his. I lost my temper and told him in no uncertain terms that he was through for the day. His backup would finish the game, which we eventually won. In the locker room afterward, I approached him and asked if he knew why I was so angry. He grunted assent, but didn’t mean it. He was 17.
I explained that I didn’t care so much about the mistake. What I was unhappy about was his blaming someone else for his failure. He hadn’t accepted responsibility. Some good news of this story is that the quarterback and I continue to communicate at least once a month. And he provides me with important professional advice. That’s sports.
Bouncing back from defeat.
This is one of the most valuable lessons any of us can learn. There are no undefeated lives. My 12thgrade English teacher was wont to say “Adversity builds character.” That went over big with a bunch of 17- and 18-year-olds. However, I bet that every one of us remembers the wisdom Ms. Kineen imparted to us with that simple axiom. Back in 1965-66, her words seemed trite. Today, they represent one of my most important guiding principles.
Here’s an illustration. I was the placekicker on my college football team. Against an arch-rival late in my senior season, I missed a short field goal that would have tied the contest and put us in position to win the league championship outright. In front of tens of thousands of fans, I embarrassed myself and let my teammates and school down. All I could do was cry and shy away from everybody.
After showering and dressing, I walked to my fraternity, where I was greeted by classmates, their dates, families, and others. I was overcome by dread, but had to face the music. I approached the front door, took a deep breath and entered.
There, in front of me was a boy of 10 or so. Sympathetically, he looked up into my eyes and said, “Arnie Holtberg, you poor guy.” For some reason, I began to feel better. Someone cared about my feelings, my well-being. The sun would come up the next day. This young boy was on my side.
Being gracious and graceful in defeat.
So often today, we observe taunting by players and fans alike. Gloating is common. A couple years ago, my wife and I attended an intercollegiate football game. Toward the end of the contest, one team thought it had won by a narrow margin. A penalty altered the course of events, but before all was set straight, that team’s players ran in front of the opposing team’s bench and fans, shouting, hollering, taunting, cursing.
This occurred at an event involving teams from two highly respected universities. In many environments such behavior isn’t condoned, and yet deplorable unsportsmanlike conduct is far too commonplace. We must teach young athletes to shake hands and offer “good game” to opponents no matter a contest’s outcome, and demand the same of coaches, parents, and the general fan base.
Accepting consequences.
My senior year in high school, we lost only one football game when a completed pass in the end zone was ruled out of bounds. On Monday at the film session, our coach closed the film room door and informed us that what we were about to view would distress, even anger us.
We saw the critical play and yes, we were disturbed. The side judge had made a grievous error. Our receiver took two steps in bounds, but was ruled not to have done so. Our stunned silence was broken by our coach who admonished us to say not one word about what we had seen. Not even to our parents. If we did so, we would suffer punishment, and more than that, we would embarrass ourselves.
You win. You lose. You don’t look back. You don’t complain. If we had played better, we would not have been in that position. Over the past 58 years I’ve never heard a word about that fourth-quarter play from anyone. I’ve now broken the silence. Maybe our coach’s attitude contributed to our winning our third straight conference title that autumn.
The classroom must take precedence over the playing field, even for those who are more proficient in sports than academics.
Students at every level spend inordinate amounts of time and energy on their athletics. I value sports participation, but deplore its interfering with other critical lifelong pursuits.
The concept of the well-rounded student is sacrificed in many corners. Striving to be one’s best in our chosen pursuits is important, maybe even noble, but being consumed by an activity that has a short shelf-life is unhealthy. We read stories about coaches who push their athletes to ungodly extremes in the name of victory and headlines. Fool’s play, you say. I agree. Kids should set their sights on achieving success, work diligently and intelligently to get there, and learn from every experience.
Having fun is important, too. Athletics can be an important part of one’s life, but is only a part. Deceased eminent sports broadcaster and author Rick Wolff and Hall of Fame baseball player Cal Ripken Jr. remind us in their guiding work “The Ripken Way” that sports are important for youngsters when they are approached the right way.
And in this era when The Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care has shown that 83 percent of American parents show signs of helicopter parenting, I believe we are heading the wrong way as a matter of course.
It is my hope that amateur athletic programs at every level aim at helping their charges become responsible, hard-working citizens and teammates who value and love one other. Life lessons are far more valuable than fame and glory, because all good things do come to an end.
The New York Yankees made sure I understood that principle a long time ago.
Arnie Holtberg of Hot Springs Village played three sports in high school, two in college, and one season in the New York Yankees baseball organization. He has coached athletes from age 5 through semi-professional. Having been involved in education for five decades, he has been a teacher, counselor, coach, and administrator, and currently serves as an educational consultant.