The recent tragic deaths of NHL All-Star Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew on a rural road in southern New Jersey at the hands of an apparent drunk driver have triggered an outpouring of grief from the hockey community, the sports world at large, and politicians in both the United States and Canada.  For many fans, this served as a stark reminder:  the superstar athletes we watch, support, criticize, and praise are, at their core, human beings.

Growing up in Carneys Point, New Jersey, Johnny and Matthew were giants in the South Jersey hockey scene before leaving to play at Boston College.  Following graduation, Matthew played in the minor leagues for several years before becoming a coach.  At the time of his death, he was the head coach of the hockey team at Gloucester Catholic High School, the alma mater he shared with Johnny.

While at BC, Johnny won the Hobey Baker Award, the college hockey equivalent of the Heisman Trophy, before signing with the NHL’s Calgary Flames.  Over eight seasons in Calgary, he racked up impressive individual numbers, won the Lady Byng Trophy for sportsmanship in 2017, and placed fourth in league MVP voting in 2022.   He was named an NHL All-Star in six of his eight seasons while playing for the Flames.

After the 2021-22 season and with an expiring contract, Johnny faced an important decision.  He was a highly coveted free agent, and many wondered whether he would stay in Calgary or seek a fresh start elsewhere.  In the end, Johnny took a pay cut to sign with the Columbus Blue Jackets, a move that left many fans confused, incredulous, and even angry.  Calgary Flames fans were upset that he had left for what they perceived to be an inferior team.  Despite writing a heartfelt letter of thanks to Calgary, Flames fans showered him with boos the first time he touched the puck upon his return as a visiting player.

Hockey and money weren’t the only factors influencing Johnny’s decision to leave Calgary, a place he once called his “second home.”  He and his wife agreed that Columbus, Ohio, would be a great place to raise a family.  Further, they wanted to be within driving distance of their parents and siblings (especially after Johnny and Matthew’s father, Guy, suffered a heart attack in 2018).  Like anyone else switching jobs or moving to a new city, Johnny and his wife had to figure out the best overall fit for their family.

On August 29, 2024, Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau were pronounced dead at the scene of their accident after being struck by an alleged drunk and aggressive driver while riding their bikes near their parents’ home in New Jersey.  They had returned to their old stomping grounds because they were supposed to be groomsmen for their sister’s wedding scheduled for the next day.  Tributes from around the world flooded the news and social media.  Fans of the Flames and Blue Jackets made makeshift memorials outside their respective home arenas.  People who knew the two brothers spoke of their good character, noting how they were both great teammates and friends.  Hockey fans, many of whom had chastised and mocked Johnny’s free agency decision just two years prior, came together to pay tribute to two men who, by all accounts, made everyone around them better people.  Suddenly, all the talk of free agency, career stats, wins and losses, good teams versus bad teams, etc., seemed meaningless.

Johnny left behind a wife and two children, while Matthew was set to become a father for the first time in a few months. A GoFundMe page was set up to support Matthew’s wife and their soon-to-be-born son, and it far surpassed the initial goal of $30,000.  To add to the heartbreak, Sean Monahan, Johnny’s former teammate and best friend from his days in Calgary, recently signed with the Blue Jackets largely to reunite on the ice with his friend.  Now, that reunion will never happen.

It can be easy to get caught up in the fantasy of professional sports and to see athletes as pieces of a puzzle or tradable commodities.  It’s natural to feel frustrated when a team you support fails to acquire a big-name free agent, and it’s easy to feel angry when the face of a franchise leaves for what they see as greener pastures.  But we must remember that these athletes are first and foremost people.  They’re just trying to do what’s best for themselves and their families.  Hopefully, it doesn’t take another tragedy to put this into perspective.

The way people have come together to pay tribute to two brothers has been touching.  These were great men who just happened to be great hockey players.  But while we honor the dead, let’s also be respectful of peoples’ choices while they’re living.

One of the most controversial events at the 2024 Paris Summer Olympics was the women’s gymnastics floor final.  Due to judging errors and ensuing protocols, third place scores have changed several times, and the bronze medal has changed hands.  Regardless of where the blame truly lies, our 24/7 news cycle (improperly) demands decisions are made and information is disseminated without proper attempts to cross-check facts.  This highlights everyone’s responsibility to act in good faith and recognize that humanity is bound to make mistakes.
 
Romanians Sabrina Maneca-Voinea and Ana Maria Barbouso found themselves in the middle of the controversy with American Jordan Chiles.  To summarize, Voinea was both penalized for something she didn’t do while also having a separate appeal for her difficulty score denied.  Barbouso’s score should have left her earning a bronze medal.  And Chiles’ score was appealed for difficulty, leading to a score increase and winning bronze ahead of Barbouso.  However, the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) overturned Chiles’ appeal and awarded the bronze medal to Barbouso.  In short, three separate athletes all felt they could have walked away with a bronze medal:  one who was improperly penalized and wonders what could have been, one who won the bronze and had it taken away, and one who thought she had it, then didn’t, then won it.
 
Throughout this time, people have taken to their keyboards and launched attacks at literally everyone who was a part of this decision.  The athletes have continued to show great sportsmanship to each other and organizations during this time, encapsulated by a quote from Barbouso following her reception of the bronze:
 
“I can’t help but think about Sabrina and Jordan right now.  It’s a difficult situation for us, with so many uncertainties and overwhelming emotions.  I hope everyone understands that we have not done anything wrong at the Olympics, and that the Olympic spirit is more important than any misunderstanding between authorities.  I want to believe that the day will come when all three of us will receive a bronze medal each.”
 
At the end of the day, the athletes must respect the decisions of the officials.  Whether all three women get a bronze medal, or it stays with Ana Maria Barbouso, we can take this time to decide how we construct our conversations and guide it to the positives of sportsmanship rather than the negative nature that we see so often.  We should be mindful and decide to build people up rather than break others down.

Beginning with the 2024-2025 scholastic athletic year, the New Jersey State Interscholastic Athletic Association (NJSIAA), in conjunction with the state’s Department of Education who oversees them, will require all sports officials working high school sporting events to complete a one-time implicit bias course to be eligible to officiate.
 
The requirement is the result of a memorandum of understanding following an incident in late 2018 when Andrew Johnson, a teenage wrestler from New Jersey, was informed during a high school state tournament by referee Alan Maloney that he would be ineligible to wrestle with his dreadlocks intact.  The incident and resulting fallout have gained significant momentum in the public eye for various reasons.
 
For the unattuned, implicit bias (in layman’s terms reflective of this discussion) is the assumption that humans can have subconscious prejudices against certain groups of people which may dictate their actions.  The training in question is supposed to serve the purpose of educating people about this fact, which would cause said prejudices to surface from the subconscious and allow evolved thought to attempt to prevent stereotypical bias from occurring in the future.
 
It is important to note that the purpose of this post is not to argue in favor of or against the validity of the science supporting implicit bias.  Further, the purpose of this post is not to offer commentary on the Johnson-Maloney incident pertaining directly to the motives of the involved parties and the resulting fallout.
 
Rather, the purpose of this post is to examine two explicit arguments that pertain to the incident that are not being addressed because the loudest voices in society have not reported on them.
 
First, the interpretation and the application of rules of NFHS (National Federation of State High School Associations) wrestling as they applied during the season in question were never dissected by the public in a manner that allows any exposition to show up on the first few pages of an Internet search.  High school wrestling rules explain what is legally allowed on the head of a wrestler in terms of hair; at the time, the interpretation of this rule noted that hair should not come down to the length of a normal collared shirt, nor should it have any adornments that could be hard or sharp.  A wrestler could wear an approved hair cover or net that was attached to the wrestler’s headgear if the hair was too long.  (These rules have since been updated as the landscape of wrestling evolved.)
 
Many high school sports have (or had) similar rules due to safety, an equal playing field, and the desire to avoid any potentially litigious situations.  For example, NFHS baseball and softball had jewelry rules that prohibited players from wearing any jewelry unless it was a medical or religious adornment (and those adornments must be taped down to the body and cannot otherwise be a safety issue).  These rules were in stark contrast to the rules that governed Major League Baseball, where any jewelry was permitted unless it was found to be a distraction (such as a diamond earring in the ear of a pitcher that would glisten in the sun as a pitch was being delivered).  As kids are apt to emulate their idols, student-athletes would wear jewelry on the diamond (no pun intended) that ranged from plastic wristbands to the most expensive gold chains, and umpires were informed they had to be the “bad cop” in these situations.  (These rules have since been rescinded and only pertain to whether the jewelry poses a safety risk or contain messages directed negatively towards others.)
 
Regardless of the sport, NFHS rules interpretations (and those further adopted by each state association) would instruct sports officials to enforce these rules.  Officials would simply do their job by adhering to the rules prescribed for their sport(s), but the other parties involved (players, coaches, parents, fans, media) would use this as ammunition to criticize the officials.  The governing bodies rightly assumed that they were protecting players from dangerous situations while also protecting themselves from the throngs of people with itchy trigger fingers waiting to slap a lawsuit on anything that moves the wrong way.  However, they did not foresee these results where an overly sensitive society would react with aggression and vitriol instead of a reasonable request to revisit the subject.
 
One of the biggest evolutions of these interpretations stemmed from the procedure that officials were instructed to use when these situations arose.  When an athlete wore something that would classify as a violation of these rules, the common refrain coming from the official would be, “I’m not saying you have to take it out/off, but you can’t play with it in/on.”  This was a legally approved way to place the responsibility of making the decision on someone other than the official, protecting officials from cases of bias like the one in question.
 
Officials have been conditioned to apply these blanket statements for years.  Prior to most high school athletic contests, officials are required to ask coaches if all participants are “legally and properly equipped and will remain so throughout the duration of the contest.”  This covers items ranging from bats and sticks to protective cups, and it legally releases the officials from liability because the coaches have certified that the players will play by the rules.  Specific to the state of New Jersey (although it is mirrored in many other states), officials must also read a sportsmanship statement to the teams that states “there will be no tolerance” for any unsporting acts related to “race, gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual orientation, or religion.”
 
However, consider the method in which interpretations and protocols are relayed to the officials who are to enforce them.  If we use Major League Baseball as an example, MLB will directly teach changes and updates to the 76 full-time umpires without any middleman.  These umpires (whose livelihood and employment revolve around officiating) have bountiful resources to constantly study and as well as failsafe methods to get the call right (such as being able to call the replay review center for a check of the rules in unique situations).  A lack of execution to follow these rules may result in disciplinary actions or umpires not receiving playoff assignments.  By contrast, if the NFHS has changes and updates, they must teach it to the states; the states then teach it to the chapters; and the chapters teach it to the officials.  (States may also have the option to adopt rules specific to their state, which means that officials must learn both national rules and state rules.)  A lack of execution to follow these rules for high school umpires (who do not umpire full-time) holds nowhere near the consequences that professionals hold.  If it sounds like a giant game of “telephone” where something could go wrong, that’s because it is.
 
A common rebuttal to the realization that these “middlemen” could create the problem is to eliminate them and require the officials to report directly to the state (or other governing body).  The problem is that these officials are not invested in their jobs to the same extent as full-time officials who make their living officiating.  The average local high school umpire who is lucky to make $100 per game is more likely to leave the chapter (and the craft of officiating) and find something else to do than to adhere to the changes.  Eliminating the unnecessary vessels of information and overhauling the system doesn’t present an advantageous cost/benefit ratio yet when the world is already lacking sports officials in all capacities.
 
This predicament begs the question of determining which is more important:  having able bodied humans present to officiate sports (because without officials, it’s just an exhibition or scrimmage) or doing whatever it takes to prevent any potential litigation that stems from a misstep, intended or not?  In other words, in the worst-case scenario, would you rather have an official who doesn’t meet expected standards, or would you rather have no official at all?
 
Circling back to the Johnson-Maloney incident, and considering the above thoughts, it is entirely possible (due to the lack of public information) that Maloney’s response to Johnson’s hair was akin to, “I’m not saying you have to cut your hair, but you can’t wrestle with it as is if you don’t have a legal covering.”  When asked what would happen if Johnson didn’t wrestle, perhaps Maloney cited the rule that the match would be a forfeit, and perhaps he did it in a way that came across as amateur or crass instead of professional or courteous.  It is also entirely possible that Maloney was properly enforcing this interpretation without prejudice, but in doing so, he may have inadvertently highlighted the possibility that every other official assigned to Johnson’s contests throughout the season did not enforce this rule properly for whatever reason.
 
But if that’s the case, then why would all the other officials not enforce this rule on hair length?  Does that mean that the wrestling officials in the state of New Jersey are collectively ignoring a rule?  Did they unionize and band together to protest injustice?  The more likely answer might be one of the following:  that the officials simply didn’t know the interpretation; they were taught incorrectly; or the officials didn’t deem the issue to be as egregious as Maloney did.  In these state tournaments (where the Johnson-Maloney incident occurred), officials from other chapters within the state are frequently used to ensure balance and fairness and eliminate any potential bias.  An official who has never officiated a contest between two schools that season and comes from a different part of the state probably has no bias to see one team defeat another.
 
If it turns out that an entire chapter of officials (a chapter to which Maloney did not belong) were simply unaware of the rule or were incorrectly taught about it, then Maloney was wrongly vilified in a situation where miscommunication is to blame, not bias.  Instead of immediately concluding that Maloney is racist, why wasn’t an investigation launched into why it is so difficult to get rules enforced, regardless of whether they are good or bad?  Or why wasn’t an investigation launched into what other officials had done at Johnson’s prior matches?  Granted, as we may never truly know Maloney’s intentions, we cannot say that these viewpoints are mutually exclusive.  Instead, perhaps we are simply noting that countless possibilities and reasonable doubt exist as to what truly occurred, why it occurred the way it did, and what can be controlled in the future.  If that’s the case, then punishing Maloney and imposing new training on all officials is a gross overreaction and should be replaced with something more appropriate.  (And don’t forget that the most readily available information to the public does not easily provide pertinent information that might be classified as objective; the immediate results of searches for information contain articles and posts, opinionated or not, that either state little or immediately vilify Maloney.)
 
And what of the other people who play the roles in sportsmanship?  If this rule was “on the books” and the interpretation was in fact correct, then why is it that the wrestler, the coach, the parents, the fans, and the media had never heard of this prior?  At the very least, it is the full responsibility of the coach to know this rule and have his wrestler prepare accordingly.  To knowingly ignore this rule is irresponsible, and to not know the rule is ignorant.  When the coach affirms that his wrestlers are legally and properly equipped and will remain so throughout the remainder of the contest, he is stating that the wrestlers will adhere to the rule on hair and releasing the officials from liability.  In fact, many coaches have weaponized the threat of, “No other official has ever enforced that!” to try to gain an advantage, even though officials have enforced rules in question constantly.
 
To mandate implicit bias training because an official applied a rule in a sport when reasonable doubt pertaining to his motive is evident and that ambiguity and/or inconsistency within the confines of the spirit of a rule may exist seems to be a knee-jerk overreaction that forces conformity and “covers the ass” of governing bodies who wish to avoid litigation.  It’s a bandage, not a remedy.
 
The second argument that needs examining is that the demand for officials to take implicit bias training suggests that the NJSIAA (and the powers that oversee them) want to ensure a fair playing field so that no prejudice can affect the outcome of an athletic contest.  (It also doubles down on the fact that they don’t want to be sued.)  However, prioritizing implicit bias in this manner shows that the state does not prioritize a more common bias:  general decency.
 
It is widely (and wrongly) accepted that sports officials are the common enemy among all parties.  The stereotype implies that they are to be equally despised by all competitors, coaches, parents, fans, and media members, regardless of rooting interest or affiliation.  (Just look to social media during televised games to watch the names of the officials start to trend when calls don’t favor one team or appear to be consistently incorrect in the eyes of the unattuned.)  This attitude manifests itself in arguments and other conflicts that create bias, yet has nothing to do with race, gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual orientation, or religion.  In other words, how many times does an official have to be berated by a coach or a fanbase before the official thinks, “I don’t want to do this anymore?”
 
Amateur officials go into contests all the time with implicit biases because of this treatment.  It is a psychological defense mechanism that warns of potential danger.  The little voice in the mind of the official is whispering, “Last time you were here, the coach treated you like garbage.  Be careful.”  But rather than seek to educate players, coaches, parents, fans, and the media on this, the NJSIAA and the State of New Jersey has chosen to prioritize other biases.  It’s like they’re saying the officials don’t matter.
 
Once again, this is learned behavior that emanates from watching idols.  When a Major League Baseball manager gets ejected and gets nose-to-nose with an umpire while seething with heated anger (think the late Earl Weaver of the Baltimore Orioles), it sends a message that this petulant behavior is accepted and expected.  No thought is given as to whether normal mature commoners should act this way; it becomes part of the rote cycle that dictates human behavior.
 
In most cases at the professional level, officials and coaches are taught to put those situations behind them after the game and start anew the next day.  No apologies are warranted, even if the coach, after being ejected, calls the umpire the dirtiest and most insulting names known to man.  The next time they see each other, it’s like it never even happened.
 
Except for one thing:  that’s not normal.
 
What healthy relationship thrives when the parties continue to skirt an issue?  Instead, those relationships deteriorate and can result in situations that were avoidable if vulnerable communication was used.
 
The same applies to the humans who officiate when others treat them so poorly.  It’s no wonder that the number of sports officials in the world is exponentially decreasing:  they’re finally realizing they don’t have to be treated in a particular way and remove themselves from those bad situations and relationships.
 
However, the NJSIAA has determined that keeping lawsuits to a minimum is more important than preserving the number of sports officials actively working.  Mandating implicit bias training has the potential to drive more officials away, especially when the average age of these officials is quite old and correlates to people of a different time and generation who may disagree with the tenets of implicit bias.  That’s not an endorsement of anything:  it’s just reality.
 
There’s an old saying in officiating:  “Do what’s right, not what’s easy.”  Officials are keepers of the flame, charged with the mission of upholding the rules that govern their contests.  They will undoubtedly face conflict when disagreements or unfavorable judgments occur.  They wage moral battles big and small when faced with making the correct call even though it may cause outrage worthy of coverage on the evening news.  They are vilified in the same way that martyrs are:  think of how unpopular Jesus, Ghandi, and Jackie Robinson were when they were on the scene.  But Jesus, Ghandi, and Jackie Robinson are lauded, whereas sports officials are on the receiving end of prejudice.  Maybe the world needs implicit bias training to learn about the proper way to treat officials.

Bullying is a pervasive issue that affects many youths and adults.  It is not reserved just for kids in school:  bullying may be one of the most critical antagonists in the story of good sportsmanship because it is the antithesis of following the golden rule.  As someone who has personally experienced bullying, I understand the impact it can have on one's self-esteem and overall well-being.
 
Growing up in a Chicago suburb, I felt I was surrounded by a concoction of affluence and arrogance.  Many of my peers came from privileged backgrounds and often used their status to belittle others.  Not only did I contrast because I came from a middle-class family, but I was the only non-athlete in a family of sports enthusiasts:  my mom was a former cheerleader; my dad was a former football player; one sister was a soccer player and cheerleader; another sister was a softball player; and my brother was a football player.  My interest in the arts contributed to the experience of feeling isolated in an environment where bullying felt corrosive, leaving me to find solace in the seclusion of my studies and at libraries.  However, this took a significant toll on my confidence and made me dread going to school each morning.  Ultimately, I ended up transferring schools my junior year because I had not yet developed essential skills such as emotional resilience, conflict resolution, or effective coping strategies.
 
Today, over ten years later, I have finally learned the power of positive reinforcement, problem solving, boundaries, empathy, and respect thanks to my experience in the workplace.  The value of good teamwork, collective effort, and sportsmanship demonstrates that in life, as in sports, how we treat others truly matters:  the workplace (which, in theory, is the adult version of school) runs much smoother if we are encouraged to support one another, celebrate each other's successes, and lift each other up during tough times.  This environment of mutual respect and encouragement was a stark contrast to the bullying I faced in high school.  How ironic (but not surprising) that this dynamic mirrors the formula that helps breed success in sports!
 
Overcoming bullying, both on and off the sports field, is not easy, but with the right support and environment, it is possible.  In fact, sports can play a pivotal role in the process of eliminating bullying, providing a safe space for children to grow, learn, and mature.  Unfortunately, according to recent data from Jersey Watch, the sports participation rates for youth ages 6-17 declined by 6% between 2019 and 2022, translating to 1.2 million fewer youth regularly playing team sports within this age group​​​​.  Also, around 70% of kids in the USA stop playing organized sports by age 13, citing reasons such as burnout, pressure from overly competitive parents, ineffective coaching, or simply that the sports are no longer fun​​​.  As such, using youth sports as a catalyst to overcome bullying becomes more and more rare when the number of participating kids declines this rapidly.
 
As the entity of sports has been said to mirror life, it’s no surprise that bullying has the potential to be the same destructive force in both sports and life.  However, it becomes even more sad when bullying in sports negates the power that participation in sports might have to help overcome bullying in life!  Such a phenomenon highlights how imperative it is that we at least reverse the trend to end bullying in sports; perhaps fighting that good fight will result in a move to end bullying overall.

Imagine that you overheard this:  "The way to bring people together is to beat other people." 
 
Aside from the sadists in our midst who would perk up the way Kenny Bania does in Seinfeld ("That's gold, Jerry!"), most of us would find that beating other people is a pretty weird way to bring people together. 
 
Then imagine that another person offered a more detailed alternative:  "The way to bring people together is to make them compete over the number of points they score.  But make them do that in an artificially limited amount of time so that they can declare one group the winner and the other group the loser." 
 
Even the sadists in our midst might back away and raise their eyebrows.  "Wow, that's pretty twisted.  But yeah, I guess, if you say so." 
 
And yet that's exactly what we say about sports.  "The great thing about sports is that they bring people together." 
 
So, does that make every sports fan a sadist? 
 
No.  When people say this, they're referring to a fun and shared interest that people gather to watch or to play.  Others might add that winning isn't the only purpose of sports:  it's about staying in shape, fighting adversity, embracing a challenge, doing the best that you can, and collaborating as a team toward a common goal.  These are all true. 
 
However, it's also true that none of these things are exclusive to sports.  Hiking, learning a language, gardening, volunteer work, and more can satisfy these demands. 
 
But in a way that's true of few activities aside from war, the purpose of sports really is to win. 
 
Politics might be offered as another arena where that's true.  "The Purpose of Government Is to Win" is either the title of Kim Jong Un's autobiography or a perspective of exactly what's gone wrong with American politics.  To approach society as a sports-like battle over a fixed number of units in a fixed amount of time does not necessarily help. 
 
For a politician amid a campaign, the sports analogy might be fair.  They must be ready to take the proverbial punches and stick that out to the election to achieve their goal.  But elections exist to serve the government, not the other way around.  And the government exists (or at least democracies exist) to guarantee the rights, freedoms, and resources of the people.  Whoever wins is supposed to serve all constituents, not just the people that voted for that candidate.  It would be a stretch to say that's just as true for sports, as the workers at the stadium who must collect the broken beer bottles can attest. 


Business might be offered as another arena where "the purpose is to win."  But in business too, the problem with that mantra is obvious.  If whoever wins does that by making the best product or by offering the best service, then sure, the purpose of business is to win.  But if the purpose of business is to beat competitors by cutting corners, polluting rivers, or screwing over employees and consumers, then to win is a dubious business. 
 
That's why the substitution of the arts with sports (or the mandate to choose one instead of the other) is such a troubling trend in schools.  This is done under the guise that sports teach us the harsh reality that "life's not fair."  But the unfairness of life is encoded in the genetic material we didn't choose, made by the parents to whom we didn't choose to be born, from the areas of the world where we didn't choose to be born.  We don't need sports to recreate that for us, especially in free societies where we do choose what to value and where we do choose what to reward. 
 
The struggle to be a good person is hard enough without declaring other people to be losers.  That's why no great teacher, faith, or spiritual guide ever tells us, "The purpose is to win."  And that's why the arts are essential.  Other than the struggle to be a good person, the struggle to be a good artist is the ultimate example of intangible greatness.  It is the shared interest without sides.  It's the challenge without point totals.  It's collaboration without opponents.  It's victory without a scoreboard.  It's beauty without a clock.  And until that greatness is as valued as "winners and losers," the competitive arena will continue to be an excuse for maladjusted desires to dominate our public life.
 
To the extent that sports are a harmless outlet for competitive impulses (a substitute for war), sports do bring people together.  We just shouldn't pretend that sports are a blueprint for a society.  The best things about sports can only thrive when we stop turning to sports for our values.  That's how we win.

Our connected world makes it a wonderful time to be a sports fan.  Information at our fingertips allows us to follow nearly whichever sport we like from the comfort of wherever we might have an internet connection for our smartphone.  Accordingly, fanbases can be developed anywhere in the world, not just in the communities in which sports teams operate.  Under the circumstances where a team can theoretically be financially sustained by outsiders, what moral duty do franchises owe the surrounding community? 
 
Fans are observing a case study in real time as the Oakland Athletics face backlash with their intent to leave the Bay Area for Las Vegas.  This is not to say that the citizens of Nevada do not deserve the highest level of baseball:  the Vegas fanbase is one of the most passionate as witnessed by teams such as the NHL’s Vegas Golden Knights, the WNBA’s Las Vegas Aces, and the NFL’s Las Vegas Raiders (the latter of which also came from Oakland).  But the A’s seem to be almost treating Bay Area residents with contempt, serving up a horribly noncompetitive squad and dismissing fans’ attempts at “reverse boycotting,” defined as filling stands with fans to make their displeasure with ownership (and their support for the franchise) known. 
 
At the same time, while sports can be accessed worldwide with the help of apps, the live product seems anecdotally more inaccessible to the average fan in the United States.  Tickets to games are outrageously expensive, and price-gouging is running amuck with the food and beverage choices.  Taking the entire family to a game is a once-per-season event at most.  Promotions for inexpensive tickets to weeknight games have been relegated to last-minute ticket resale platforms in recent years. 
 
While recognizing that professional sports are businesses run for profit, is there a point at which this pursuit becomes counterproductive because local fans become alienated?  Does this also cause new fans (like young people or families) to not be created?  If we agree that sports have the power to shape young lives for the better by imparting concepts like sportsmanship and fair play, is it good for professional sports to become ever more inaccessible or for franchises to pull up stakes and move at the expense of long-suffering but loyal fans?  Expecting corporations to cut profit margins voluntarily in the name of accessibility is perhaps naïve at best, but it may behoove them to do more to make their product accessible to the local community of fans from which they draw their goodwill and, ultimately, their value.

My daughter started playing volleyball three years ago when she began high school; this year, she was fortunate enough to make the varsity team.  I always enjoy watching her play, and I go to her matches as often as possible.  Varsity tends to be a little more intense, as the stakes are seemingly supposed to be higher.  I find myself cheering for my daughter and her teammates in her varsity matches just as I had done in her first two years, encouraging them in a positive manner to do their best.  However, that changed halfway through her first varsity season.
 
A rival school was hosting my daughter's team for a match on a random weekday afternoon.  I attended the match and cheered for her and her teammates as I usually do.  Being that my daughter is one of the taller girls on the team, she plays on the front line quite a bit, making her responsible for defense near the net.  One of my usual utterances of encouragement for my daughter in this position is to shout, "Block, block, block, block, block!" which is what I did as the opposition prepared to set someone for a kill early in the match.  Such an exclamation would probably be akin to what a coach might shout in the same scenario.  It didn’t appear to be negative, intimidating, or threatening.  There was no reference to race, gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual orientation, or religion in anything muttered.  And my intent was certainly not to purposefully disconcert someone, like what basketball fans sitting behind a basket might do while free throws are being shot by the opposing team.  From what I can recall, I have been doing this for as long as my daughter has been playing volleyball, including during her club (non-scholastic) seasons, without any complaints or protests.  At this day's match, however, a player on the opposing team took great exception to my encouraging utterances to the point of tears.
 
The officials stopped the match, and the opposing coach insisted that my daughter's coach tell me to leave the gym.  My immediate reaction, and that of the parents sitting around me, was to ask, "For what?"  Out of respect for my daughter's coach and to avoid embarrassment of being asked to leave, I agreed not to make any further utterances in support of my daughter or her teammates, although I felt like I was being bullied for something that had been normalized over a two-and-a-half-year period.
 
To add insult to injury, the opposing team sent an administrator to stand near me to make sure I stayed in line for the remainder of the game.  I politely asked the administrator if he was sent to make sure I didn't hurt anyone else's feelings.  He gave no reply, perhaps out of embarrassment that he was forced to guard me.  However, one of the opposing players, overhearing my comment to the administrator, started shouting at me, yelling, "Shut up!  You're, like, fifty!"  (I took this as a compliment since I will turn fifty-five next month, so I'll take a five-year haircut off my age anytime.)
 
I admit that these student-athletes are technically children, which can invoke a new set of standards.  However, the lesson I took away from this experience is that the upcoming generations may not be properly prepared to handle the adversity that they will face in the real world.  I was told that my utterances, which I viewed as encouraging for my daughter, were "distracting" and "annoying," not rude or unsportsmanlike.  If that was truly how members of the other team felt, wouldn’t it be a smarter move for the coaches to quietly and politely conference about the situation and choose words properly?  I still may not have agreed with it, but I’m sure my defenses wouldn’t have gone up the same way if my daughter’s coach had approached me in the spirit of compromise after a civil conversation with the other coach and said, “Tom, for today, would you mind toning it down a bit?  That girl is apparently struggling with some personal stuff, and we’d like to show a little empathy as a team.”
 
If we attempt to remove every possible distraction and annoyance from interscholastic competition, how are these student-athletes being prepared for a future filled with those very things?  Yes, outstanding sportsmanship is paramount, but the pendulum can't swing too far in the other direction, or we risk raising a generation of individuals unprepared for the true obstacles one can (and probably will) face.
 

It was around 2011 when I was in my third year of managing a summer baseball team for kids aged 15 to 19.  After completing a difficult regular season, we had reached the playoffs and were about to start an early-round single-elimination game that would send the losing team home for the summer.
 
After the exchange of lineup cards with the other manager and the umpires, I noticed something that seemed incorrect.  Some of the names of the players listed on the lineup card for the other team were unfamiliar.  The league had provided teams with finalized rosters, so I decided to crosscheck.  Sure enough, there were names in our opponent’s starting lineup that were not listed on their roster provided by the league.
 
I asked the umpires for a moment to confer with my coaches before starting the game.  We wondered if this oddity was a clerical error by the league or an illegal attempt to use better players to win.  While debating with my coaches, the umpires came over and asked about the concern.  We looped them in and explained the situation.  After a few moments of questioning and debating, I informed the umpires that I felt the correct thing for me to do was to play the game under protest, which invokes a baseball rule that forces league officials to examine the situation and adjudicate if the game was played properly or not.  I justified it by saying that if it was a simple clerical error on the part of the league, then there would be no issue; however, if something nefarious was afoot, I wanted to put a stop to it.
 
The umpires understood and went to discuss the situation by themselves.  While my staff and I remained outside our dugout wondering if this was the correct decision, I verbalized my concern with a feeling of guilt.
 
“You know,” I said, “I really don’t want to come across as someone who wants to win at all costs.  But I’m afraid that’s what they’re trying to do, and I don’t want to put our kids at a disadvantage.”
 
“Don’t worry,” said Dan, the first base coach and bullpen coach.  “It is your fiduciary duty and responsibility to make this determination.  You did the right thing.”
 
Dan was right.  If the other team was truly trying to cheat, I would be doing my own team a disservice if I didn’t defend my players from a blatant violation of the rules.  Further, I could relax knowing I had chosen to address the situation calmly, coolly, and collectively.  I wasn’t throwing a tantrum or embarrassing anyone, nor was I arguing with an umpire over a judgement call that would likely not result in anything positive; I was merely fulfilling my duty to put my kids in the best possible position to win.  If we were going to lose that day, we should lose fairly, not because our opponent had an illegal advantage over us.
 
The umpires came back to our side and agreed that we could play the game under protest.  Their rationale was the same as mine:  if it was a clerical error by the league, then none of this would matter.  However, if the other team was cheating, the league would be required to step in.  I thanked them again while restating that I didn’t want to come across as the bad guy.  They understood and went to the other team to tell them of their decision.
 
It wasn’t a few moments into their discussion with the other team that one of the opposing coaches started yelling at us from across the field.  “You think we’re cheaters?!?  You don’t have the guts to come over here and say that to our face!!!”  Immediately, I felt like I had made a mistake.  I became ridden with guilt and embarrassment because I had caused a conflict primed with bad behavior and poor sportsmanship, and yet, I was the one questioning whether our opponents were cheating.  I wanted to run and hide.
 
My players began to ask why the opposing coach was yelling at us.  I gathered them around into a tightly packed group so they could hear me over the shouts from across the field.  “Guys,” I said quietly, “I need you to listen to me carefully so I can explain what just happened.”  A serious tenor came across the faces of these young men.  “I crosschecked their lineup card with the roster provided by the league, and I saw names in their lineup that were not listed on the roster, so I asked the umpires to play the game under protest in the event that the other team is trying to cheat.”
 
A tense silence grew among the kids.  They were already nervous because of the weight of this game.  Now, I couldn’t tell if it was worse.
 
“I didn’t want to make that decision,” I continued, “But I wanted the playing field to be level.  You have all worked so hard to get to this point.  If you don’t win today, I want it to be because the other team was better, not because they cheated.”
 
Some of the parents of my kids were gathering near the dugout and could hear what I was saying.  I let them stay purely because I didn’t want to have to explain myself a second time.  It was difficult enough to verbalize it once.
 
“You guys have what it takes to go out there and win, regardless of who is on the other side,” I said.  “The most important thing right now is that you have fun, play hard, and leave everything you’ve got out there today.  I’ll be proud of you no matter what happens, and all I ask is that you win and lose with grace, dignity, and respect.”
 
A new determination was beginning to set in among the kids.  Maybe they were motivated by the fact that someone thought we would be easy to fool.  Perhaps they were strengthened by the idea that another team thought the only way they could defeat us was to cheat.  Regardless, they broke from the huddle with a confidence and a unity I hadn’t seen in them that season.  I sat down and didn’t leave the dugout all game, scared that someone from the opposing side would hurl more hurtful comments my way.
 
We demolished the other team that day, advancing to the next round and eventually to our second consecutive championship.  When the teams shook hands after the game, the same coach who had been yelling prior to the game refused to shake my hand; I still felt horrible that I had to do what I did, but I took some solace in the fact that it was time to go congratulate my team.  The protest no longer mattered since we had won, so it was much ado about nothing.
 
The league president called me the next day to inform me that the situation was, in fact, a clerical error on his part:  he had forgotten to publish the last version of their roster when it was submitted a month prior.  On the one hand, I felt better knowing that nothing nefarious was afoot.  However, on the other hand, I felt bad that I had to make a decision that was interpreted as an accusation of cheating.  I didn’t have the courage to reach out to the other coach because I was afraid that he would misinterpret me again, so I asked the league president to please pass along my apologies if he spoke with him.
 
To this day, I continue to feel bad about having to make that decision and upset the other coach.  But the competitive climate is ripe with people who subscribe to a categorical philosophy:  Win-At-All-Costs (or WAAC).  To the WAAC mentality, no competition is too big or too small:  anything that’s not a victory of the highest caliber is a failure, no matter the cost.  Morality is easily sacrificed for success, and yet, the definition of what is moral is easily distorted.
 
But here’s what’s so crazy about this example:  I felt like I was the WAAC coach, a feeling that didn’t sit well with me.  Obviously, I didn’t know at the time that the situation was just a clerical error, but I genuinely wondered if winning at all costs included my responsibility to ensure the game was played correctly and within the rules.  What would I have sacrificed or ignored if I had kept my mouth shut?  Even stranger is the question of wondering how I would have reacted if I was the coach who was being accused of cheating.  I suppose it worked out in the end, but not without consternation.
 
The WAAC mentality has become so problematic in competition that there is no longer a consistency to who blatantly subscribes to it.  Yes, there are people who stick out like a sore thumb as WAAC competitors, and there are situations where it is obvious that something must be done to combat this.  But there are also people who only dip their toes into the water of this pool to test it out and utilize what they can before succumbing to the dark side of this mentality, perhaps armed with the counter mechanism that the best defense against this is a formidable offense.
 
A similar conflict would arise just prior to the following season when some of the parents of kids on my team saw an opportunity to live vicariously through the victories of their children and demanded they start their own team in the league.  When I opposed the plan because of how it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids on the team, the parents formulated a mob mentality that resulted in one mantra being thrown at me:  they accused me of only caring about winning championships (essentially being a WAAC coach), not the experiences of the kids.  In less than twelve months from the first incident with the opposing coach in the playoff game, the parents who had witnessed my plea for fairness had forgotten what had happened and decided instead to feed off their own WAAC mentality, leaving me to feel like the bad guy in both situations.  They had succumbed to Achievement-By-Proxy Syndrome, a corollary to WAAC where parents experience success as their own when it, in fact, belongs to another person (usually a child).
 
The pain felt by this mentality goes beyond whether a trophy gets raised at the end of the day.  It leaves a deeply psychological stain that damages the desires and outlook of the innocent.  Following the season where the select parents broke away from my team, I stepped down as the manager of my own team because I saw the writing on the wall:  the WAAC coaches would fight harder because of their desire to win, and I didn’t have the energy to oppose them.  It was time to move on and take my talents elsewhere.

As a college professor, I find myself feverishly grading copious amounts of assignments and tests to meet the ever-looming deadline for final grades when the semester begins to wind down.  Around the same time, however, I reflect on the overall performance of my students and their contributions to the wider field of academia.
 
College is a different beast than high school (or at least it’s supposed to be).  Almost all college students are legal adults and are given sole responsibility for their work.  Qualities such as class participation, attitude, and punctuality fall solely on their shoulders, rather than connecting home to parents or guardians who may assist along the educational path at lower levels.  The communication required between students and professors is valued so differently in higher education that it can literally impact and influence grades.
 
However, it feels like more and more students are failing every semester.  Sure, a substantial part of this comes from changes in culture that make students lazy or entitled.  However, what’s concerning is that these students lack the skills and ability to be an effective member of a class.  In other words, they don’t know how to be a student, a role that requires the ability to listen, take notes, organize, adapt, think critically, and, perhaps most importantly, ask questions.
 
Liken the setting of a college course to any sports team and you’ll begin to see similarities.  It’s no surprise that the players on the team usually want to be part of the team!  They understand what it takes to participate, both as players and as teammates.  Players who don’t want to be there (or who lack the understanding of their role and responsibility) find themselves either not playing, losing, or removed from the team.
 
Good players also ask questions.  They seek to better understand the strategy so they can do their part.  They choose a tone that emits an innocent curiosity and desire to succeed, not to be the center of attention or question the authority of the coach.
 
Sound familiar?
 
Students in a college course need to do the same thing.  They need to want to be part of the class (or at least understand the responsibility of partaking in the class, even if they might disagree with the requirement to take the class).  They also need to hold up their end of the bargain by participating and completing assignments.  Students who don’t do these things end up failing.
 
Good students also ask questions.  They seek to better understand the material.  They have a genuine desire for information, not for being insubordinate or usurping the authority of a professor.
 
Curiosity, when supported by solid communication skills, has the power to foster a strong connection between students and professors, much like it can between players and coaches.  Is it surprising that the students and players who participate in this manner are more likely to succeed?  Is it a coincidence that those who succeed can then help other students or teammates succeed?
 
I like to end every class meeting by asking my students, “What kind of question might someone have regarding what we discussed today?”  At worst, it forces students to review and reflect on the material.  At best, it gives an outgoing student the chance to help someone who might be too timid.
 
In closing, to quote David S. Pumpkins, “Any questions?”