Sometimes
Byjim Turner
Martin Alphonzo “Al” Wood was a student athlete at the University of North
Carolina in Chapel Hill from 1978-1981, when he was awarded a bachelor’s degree.
Al was an early member of the rapidly growing list of Dean Smith’s minority
recruits who achieved multiple honors on the court as he amazed the adoring
crowds of students and alumni with his basketball skills. After graduating from
UNC he continued to play the sport at the professional level for 10 years before
beginning his non-playing adult life as a private citizen.
His resume indicates that he shared as much passion for his family and his
community as he did for making three-pointers in a basketball game. Al traveled
around the country as a motivational speaker, a trainer and team builder, an
evangelist, a pane! participant, a sports radio and TV spokesperson, a prison
minister, and a private consultant. He also served as principal, athletic director, and
head basketball coach at Cornelius School of Creative Leadership. He is currently
an ordained minister with Morning Star Ministries.
That’s one heck of a resume. Yet the thing I.remember most clearly about Al,
aside from his sweet jump shot, is the dazed, inarticulate statement made by a sad
21-year-old-kid who had just lost a basketball contest to,his arch rival, Duke. Al
expressed his feelings about the loss saying, “Sometimes it just bes that way.”.
I have a number of dear friends who cringe at the reference to a member of a
collegiate sports team as a “student athlete.” That is an oxyrnoron, they say. Most of
my friends who share this point of view are, or were, educators and have endured
pressures and encouragements from coaches and alumni who have requested that
they offer a little extra kindness to their star athletes. After aU, .they argue, the
student athlete needs to remain academically eligible for game participation. Their
athletic abilities earn large amounts of money for the colleges and universities.
These dollars can then be spent to grow the athletic kingdoms. I acknowledge and
share their concerns and have sour memories of instances as a student at UNC
when I felt the athletes in my classes were given an edge. I have a vivid memory
of watching one of them, a star basketball recruit, with his open textbook at his
feet while taking an exam. There were other classes where the jocks earned a B
or higher in a really difficult course with not-so-nice professors teaching in large
lecture halls. Was the grade earned? I can only speculate. Having access to a tutor
and private, required study groups was helpful, but these assets were not readily
available to the average student. Some argue that these perks were necessary
because of all the practice time required of the athletes. Their educations are funded
because of their physical abilities on the turfs, the hardwood, the pitches, the courts
and tracks. Other students, such as this writer, paid for their education with a small
teacher’s scholarship loan and full-time jobs. I am certain I never got a little extra
kindness from a professor because I had worked a six-hour shift the night before a
quiz.
But I also believe the majority of students who represent their schools in an
athletic endeavor are not “dumb jocks.” They are bright students who are seeking
to broaden their horizons, expand their knowledge and explore new interests.
They don’t ask for, or expect, extra kindness for their academic efforts. They study
because they want to prepare to be doctors, teachers, lawyers, business leaders
and research scientists. Each year hundreds of these students, who also happen
to be athletes, are recognized for scholastic achievement. In May of this year at
the annual Scholar-Athlete-Awards Luncheon on the campus of UNC-Chapel
Hill, Athletic Director Bubba Cunningham recognized 385 individuals for having
achieved the academic honor roll. This number represented a record for the
second year in a row. Many in this group were cited for having completed multiple
consecutive semesters earning a 4.0 GPA.
Some might say I am a hypocrite. I love to attend sporting events, especially
those at my alma mater, and cheer others who perform feats that seem to be
superhuman. I love to be on the campus on those crisp fall afternoons and to
capture my 200th photo of the bell tower rising above Kenan Stadium. I love to
6 The Shoreline I November 2018
count the empty mini bottles in the men’s restrooms and wonder how many of
the fans are driving after the game ends. My head tells me that on the playing field
these student athletes are placing their futures and their very lives in their hands
as they allow their brains to slosh from one side of their craniums to the other.
Never mind that, though. Go Heels! I especially relish hearing the roar of young
students in the Dean Dome as the pep band strikes up the UNC fight song and the
basketball players are introduced to the out-of-control crowd. A large number of
us in the crowd are old folks. We’re wine-and-cheese retirees who give money to
the RAMS Club for the privilege of purchasing seats that don’t cause nose bleeds.
I love the pageantry of the contests. I love the spectacle of the venue. I love to feel
the vibrations from the noise and the music. I love the smell of popcorn and giving
and receiving high-fives from people I don’t know, as if I were somehow involved in
making the scores.
Too often I, and others who attend these events or watch from home, take it all
too seriously. We focus on Al’s unfortunate choice of words and miss the fact that,
in the end, it was just a game. Some days you are the winners, and some days you’re
not. Some days your talents and efforts faU a bit short. There will be another day
and another contest. My hero. Dean Smith, the coach of the UNC men’s basketball
team for many years, commented once on his view about wins and losses. “If you
make every game a life-and-death proposition, you’re going to have problems. For
one thing, you’ll be dead a lot.”
One of my favorite, though fictional, baseball stars was “Crash” Davis from the
movie “BuU Durham.” I recall a scene from this classic movie where Crash, the
aging catcher, is giving the rising star pitcher. Nuke, some pointers for responding
to questions from the media during interviews. “You need to learn your cliches,”
Crash tells Nuke. “Write ’em down and learn ’em. First, we gotta play ’em one day
at a time.” Crash goes on to say, “Tm just happy to be here and hope I can help the
ball club.” And, last, “I just want to give it my best shot and, the good Lord willing,
things will work out all right.”
The comedy of the press interactions with both the players and the coaches
brings me great joy. To coaches, the game of the day or evening is not just a sports
contest. It is an epic battle of opposing giants and the interviewee is holding
himself or herself personally responsible for the outcome. Others are more realistic.
Another favorite memory is from Jim Valvano, the beloved NC State basketball
coach who died from cancer at a young age. He told of his conversation with a
referee: “I asked a ref if he could give me a technical foul for thinking bad things
about him. He said, ‘Of course not.’ I said, ‘Well, I think you stink.’ And he gave me
a technical. You can’t trust ’em.” I really liked this guy except those times when his
giant team defeated my giant team. Then he could have called a technical on me.
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