Nobodycaresville

More than a few folks have accused me of being a jock. (I mean, they make it sound like that’s a bad thing…) I guess I’m guilty as charged.  I won’t lie: I’m delighted whenever I discover that a young man or woman has just enrolled at Hyde who is blessed in the realm of athletics.

At the same time, my 35+ years as an educator have also afforded me the vantage point of hindsight when it comes to the future prospects of current sports heroes.  With this in mind, I have coined a very simple question that I make it my mission to ask all who fit this description:

So, tell me, How are you doing as far as preparing to live in Nobodycaresville? 

They typically respond with a quizzical, perplexed expression. I then forge ahead:

Nobodycaresville is that place where you will arrive a mere four years from now — and that’s if you’re lucky! — where no one will care how good a (insert sport here) player you were back in school.  No employer will care about how many touchdowns you scored, how many points/goals you scored, or how fast you were able to run part/all of an asphalt/rubber oval.  It won’t even be a case of “what have you done for me lately.”  They will only ask, “What can you do for me NOW.”

One of Hyde’s all-time great coaches (Gary Kent) used to put it far more laconically: “Son… that and $1.25 will get you a cup of coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts.”

To be sure, athletic prowess can open some doors when it comes to securing a coveted job interview.  That’s a good thing. Only your character can keep that door open as well as open new ones. That’s a great thing.

Onward,  Malcolm Gauld