May 6,2011

Sometimes the real world is
so overwhelming it sneaks into sports.  One of those times occurred
after 9/11, when the crowd at Yankee Stadium sang “God Bless America,”
with all their heart.  I’m not very religious, but it sounded
right to me.   

It seemed appropriate that
that signature moment, when we needed to be together, occurred in our
country’s most hallowed arena, the nation’s front porch.  We
are probably the most sports-soaked culture in the world – we’re
the ones who pay for the Olympics, after all – and I believe our code
of conduct when we’re competing often represents our values at their
best.   

People like to say sports teaches
us how to be aggressive.  But you can learn that through alley
fighting.  Any jerk with no regard for others can be aggressive. 
Prisons are filled with them.  9/11 was conceived by them. 

And it’s easy to play by the rules, too, if you never defend yourself. 

So, I disagree.  What
sports teaches us is how to be tough without crossing the line.
That’s the crucial difference.  That’s why every sport I know
not only has official rules, but unwritten ones, too, that anyone who
cares about the sport is expected to follow.  

If you’ve ever coached –
any sport, any age – you know that is one of the hardest lessons
to teach.  And, I believe, one of the most important. 

When I coached high school
hockey, I made it clear: I expected my guys always to play tough, but
never to play dirty.  When my players complained the other team
was playing dirty, I said: Right.  That’s what makes you
better than them.  I don’t coach those guys.  I coach
you.   

That was one more reason —
among many others, of course — that 9/11 troubled me.  It boiled
down to a few thugs going after 3,000 innocent civilians, led by a coward
who had enough money to get others to do his fighting for him. 
He just took the credit — if that’s what you call it.   

I admit I was not always heartened
by our nation’s response to 9/11, either.  So much of it seemed
sloppy and undisciplined – and counterproductive.  John McCain
has said one of the most important sources of strength he and his fellow
Viet Nam P.O.W.’s relied on to keep going was the simple belief that
they were better than their captors.  It sustained them.      

It seemed like we were losing
that.  And that’s why I was so heartened by the conduct of the
Navy Seals this week.  I know there are still many questions about
how this process started.  But I don’t have too many questions
about how it ended, or about the men who flew into Pakistan that night. 
They found their man not in a cave outside Kabul, sacrificing for his
cause – however wrong-headed it might be – but in a suburban mansion.  

I admired the Seals’ commitment
to going after this paper bully – and the incredible preparation,
the courage and the restraint they displayed under the most dangerous
conditions.   

They were not inspired by blood
lust, but simple justice.  If the choice was him, or thousands
more innocent people – an equation he created, not us – the Seals’
decision is one I can live with.  

The Seals got their man.   

It felt cathartic.  They
reclaimed a measure of our self-respect – and they left it at that,
right down to the decision to give him a proper Muslim burial at sea,
and to keep the photos private.   

“We don’t need to spike
the football,” President Obama said.  “That’s not who we
are.”  And that’s exactly what had sustained Senator McCain. 

It’s good to know we have
people like that on our team.