The Cheltenham Football Scandal

Theres is a story that has dominated the news by recounting the event of hazing a first-year football player by teammates who beat him and poked at his butt resembling an attack to “broom him,” a lyric that is part of the songs of Meek Mill, the rapper. The football player who was attacked didn’t want to want his mother to know because he really wanted to stay on the team. The bullies did what bullies do which is to isolate the victim and put him or her in a double bind position where the victim is caught “between a rock and a hard place.”

We know a lot through research on the nature of bullies. They have low self esteem and depend on their actions of disrespect to win the day almost always having a group around that they are attempting to impress or to communicate “there but the grace of God go you!” It is an issue of control.

The Cheltenham Football season was cancelled so the actions of a few made it miserable for many.

The coaches of the team were informed or already knew about this bullying and did nothing except to blame one another and not take responsibility for their inaction. Throwing others under the bus is a trademark of bullies as well. I learned from a former member of my Religion Department, now the Chaplain of the Lolani School in Honolulu, Hawaii, the largest episcopal school of over 2300 in the nation, that the school’s motto is ONE. They see that everyone counts and nothing is more important than one team. (Yes, I am very proud of him. His wife, Kara, is one of my former advisees) That motto was missing from Cheltenham’s Football Team. That is the hallmark of a true winner, and I am not talking about wins and losses. A fellow faculty member of mine would say, even though a team or individual lost, they got a big W meaning it was the way that the contest was done was what really counted.

If you follow my blog, you know that I grew up differently from folks on the mainline. I am basically a working-class kid whose father suffered a debilitating stroke that left my family in great financial hardship when I was in tenth grade in a public school. He came back after working day in and day out with my weights for a year and returned to work as a meat cutter whose hand was so shaky that he was demoted to being the fish man of the store, the lowest ranked worker. But he showed me what toughness really looks like as well as my many stops in mills to get enough money to go to college. One day when he was walking home, I heard two grown men mocking him under their breath. I took them on and made a promise that I would never allow anyone to be disrespected who I came across in life. It is something that I feel deeply.

The EA community knew that about me by my actions not my words. I never had a problem with any student in any classes that I taught for thirty-eight years because I was one emotional step away from those two men who disrespected my father. It’s called subliminal communication. They called my father Sparky.

Two issues come to mind. I created the advisory groups based on student choices for their faculty advisor. When I finish the assignments, the students are informed about who their advisor will be as not all choices are honored because of caps on the number that a faculty member can have. The advisor becomes the most important person in the student’s life regarding academics as well as issues of behavior.

Just as I was about to publish the list one August day, a student who all the students thought was the toughest kid in school came to see me. He begged me to add him to my list. When I asked why, “He replied, “Because no one else can keep on the straight and narrow.” I did put him on my list because he “was hell on wheels”.  We had weekly meetings to check in. He asked me why I never checked up on him. I told him I knew that he would never do anything to go against our deal. Respect. He graduated and went on to a Division One School where he was a standout in their signature sport. I had hired a member for the Religion Department who lived near the college where this former student went. He told me that he had watched him play. “Do you know he is the toughest kid I ever saw play.” The new member of my Religion Department was a coach as well. He asked, “Did you know him?” I replied, “Yes, I was his advisor during his senior year.”

Haverford Day is a big day at EA against a rival school. Some of our students got the idea that they would paint a bridge that you go under to get to this school where we were playing. I forget exactly what the graffiti was that they wrote, but it infuriated our rival school. The Head of School of EA put out an email letting all students know that he would meet with the perpetuators in his office at 8 on the following Monday after the weekend competitions. We didn’t know who the students were. He made it clear that one way or the other he would find out who they were. He copied me to his email to all students.

I got an email from one of the people who sprayed the graffiti on the bridge. He said the group wanted to meet with me at 7:30 before they met with the head. I had a larger office in the basement of the chapel which would be the meeting place. I didn’t know who would be coming down the steps to the meeting. A half dozen students who had everything to lose came down the steps. I was surprised by who was in the group. When I asked what they wanted from me, they replied, “Nothing! We just needed to get things straight with you first”, and they apologized for their actions. There was a lot of silence. Apology accepted, but I indicated that what they did was a bad reflection on our school. They would have to accept the consequences as men.”

As they were leaving, I asked them if they would like me to go with them to the meeting, they said “yes.” Was this a way for them to get off a severe punishment? The Head was not that kind of guy. They got what they deserved. A Suspension that would go on their college applications was their punishment. They had to indicate what they did wrong to the college.

Each one of them came to my office later in the day, to thank me for walking over with them.

Respect! I always think in those moments of my father dragging his leg walking home and those two men who couldn’t see courage when it was looking them in the eye.