When is a lie the truth?

A lot of my professional work over the past 20 years has been around helping athletes and coaches at all levels—amateur and professional—understand their professional responsibilities, be aware of the needs and realities of the media, and communicate/navigate through media and public scrutiny with as much integrity and credibility as they possibly can.

Whether these individual clients meet with fans one-on-one, interact with the media daily or occasionally, or encounter more formal public speaking opportunities, the ability to communicate clearly and credibly is vital to their off-field and off-ice endeavors—and success—for a whole host of reasons.

This brings us to a recent situation involving Major League Baseball’s Toronto Blue Jays.

Revealing and/or formally reporting sports injuries is handled a little different from sport to sport.

As gambling is vital to the popularity of pro football in the United States, the NFL has long had a firm policy that teams must disclose all—even minor—injuries the week of the next scheduled game, and to declare the statistical likelihood of a particular athlete being available to play in that game.

Hockey, on the other hand, has a long history of coaches deliberately being vague about the severity of injuries; in recent years it has become a running joke about whether a player has an “upper-body” or “lower-body” injury. NHL players take great pride in playing through pain, but coaches don’t like the opposition to know what injured area they should be going after during a game.

Baseball is a little different. Some guys play with injuries, of course, but teams don’t generally make a point of hiding injury information. A hang-nail puts some guys on the 15-day DL in baseball, and Sammy Sosa missed 15 days a few years ago after he sneezed and pulled a muscle, so what’s to hide?

All this said, an ethicist or perhaps a linguist would no doubt have fun with the following story:

Toronto Blue Jays closer B.J. Ryan was placed on the disabled list earlier this season. Evidently the team had claimed the pitcher had back problems dating back to spring training. Last week, General Manager J.P. Ricciardi declared that it was actually the lefty’s elbow, not his back, that was the problem that ultimately landed the player on the 60-day DL.

As mentioned, this sort of thing (not being straightforward about injuries) happens in hockey all the time, though not in football.

Most fans could care less whether it was a player’s back or his elbow. They simply want to know if the guy is too hurt to play effectively.

In a recent Globe & Mail and Canadian Press story, Ricciardi is quoted as denying he ever “lied” about the nature of Ryan’s injury.

In the interview, Ricciardi is quoted as saying, “It was his elbow that was bothering him. So we said it was his back, so we could have a bit more time.”

More time for what, I’m not sure. But whatever his reason, the fact remains that Ricciardi and the Jays organization reported false information regarding the nature of Ryan’s injury.

Remembering again that masking the details of injury is not entirely uncommon, perhaps more troubling than the initial misinformation was Ricciardi’s explanation of his own behaviour. Ricciardi maintains that he did not lie about Ryan’s reason for being on the DL.

In a questionable twisting of words, Ricciardi reportedly made a point of telling the media, “It’s not lies if we know the truth.”

A lot of people have probably tried to understand that sentence, wondering if that is really what Ricciardi intended to say.

Assuming Ricciardi said what he meant to say, a question for him might be: If you do know the truth and don’t report the truth, and in fact report something else, is that not a lie? In fact, is that not the definition of a lie?

Regardless, it is fair to suggest that whatever equity this General Manager has tried to establish – and milk—with the media and fans over the past several years may be harmed more by the use of intentionally disingenuous language, than by a long losing streak.

Those two things together are an even worse cocktail when it comes to his believability and credibility with the media—and fans.

As I often remind my clients, it generally takes years to build your credibility, but only a few seconds to throw it away.

It's Better to go fishing

By now most NFL observers and fans are aware of the events of the recent NFL draft, and the brick-like fall of Notre Dame quarterback Brady Quinn.

Quinn is a tremendously gifted athlete from a big name school, coached by a well-regarded former NFL coach at a prestigious college.

Quinn conducted what amounts to a media and public relations campaign to project himself as the deserving number 1 overall choice in the draft.

When he was not selected first, a confluence of events conspired to see his stock fall, such that he was not actually chosen until 22nd overall, though at least still in the first round of the football draft.

Readers will know that, as with the NBA draft, many of the top college players are invited to attend the NFL draft, and sit in the so-called “green room” awaiting their name to be called before they step out onto the stage and meet with commissioner at the podium and smile for the TGV cameras.

Quinn was indeed on hand in person, looking more pained by the moment as 21 names were called before him.

Interestingly, one fellow prospective choice, Joe Thomas of Wisconsin, chose to not attend the draft, spending the day fishing with his Dad and a friend. He was selected third overall and evidently found out about his selection later, by phone.

While Quinn, by all accounts, handled his ‘fall’ with about as much grace as a young person can under the circumstances, it brings to mind something that hockey guru Don Cherry stresses to young players every spring: you may want to consider not attending the NHL draft, unless you are absolutely – absolutely—certain your name will be called when you anticipate it will be.

(I say much the same to my young hockey clients. While it can be a once-in-a-lifetime thrill to be at the draft and hear your name called, it can also be a major disappointment when agents, coaches, scouts and friends have been telling you you’ll be drafted, and then you sit there and watch name after name called, and you’re dying inside with every pick…)

There is no question Quinn worked most of his young life toward that moment when his name would be called early in the NFL draft.

His ‘late’ selection still surpassed all those who were selected after him, and in rounds 2,3,4,5,6, and 7-- and those who played hard and well throughout their collegiate careers but were not selected at all, or even offered a free agent contract after the draft.

And Quinn’s sporting achievement surpasses those who would love to be in his shoes, but had not the talent, tenacity or support system that he had over many years.

That all said, a young athlete is sometimes wise to shun the spotlight, lessen his expectations, and when in doubt .............go fishing.

If only Crosby can make it last…

Bobby Hull was one of the great ambassadors for the game of hockey from the late 1950’s throughout his entire professional career, which ended in 1980.

While there were reports of various off-ice issues over the years, Hull was nonetheless one of those sporting “heroes” who made the time to speak with fans, who would stand and sign autographs for long periods of time after games and practices, when teammates were long gone.

In a nice piece printed recently in the Ottawa Sun, columnist Don Brennan tells how, when the Penguins were in Ottawa to play the Senators, a group of youngsters, hoping to see Sidney Crosby, waved and held up signs as he was leaving the rink after practice. When security wouldn’t allow the young fans near the team bus, Crosby ventured off to meet with the youngsters, pose for pictures and sign autographs.

Shades of Bobby Hull, indeed. And in an era when so many athletes simply have no interest in the fans, and certainly wouldn’t make the time to sign an autograph unless they were paid to do so, it is at the very least refreshing to see Crosby handle his early fame in this manner.

If he can maintain his approach for another twenty years, we can speak of him in the same breath as a Hull, or even a Jean Beliveau, who has shown respect for the game and the fans long after his playing career came to an end.

This is a wonderful lesson for young athletes on one of the many off-ice/ off-field qualities it takes to become a real professional in any sport.

"I can't do it all by myself!"

It’s remarkable how seldom professional athletes will really and truly take responsibility for their actions and/or performance.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions when they do, the response is rather peculiar. Case in point: recent comments by Ottawa Senators defenseman Joe Corvo. Corvo said publicly he has not played up to par this season, and a newspaper headline in the Ottawa Sun thereafter read, “Corvo too honest?”

Corvo’s coach went so far as to say, “you’re always a little surprised when a player admits to lacking confidence publicly”, essentially suggesting it would have been better for Corvo not to acknowledge his poor play.

Corvo responded by saying, “Guys (athletes) are kind of programmed to say robotic responses…I don’t think I’m the first one that’s been honest.”

Compare and contrast Corvo’s honest, if uncommon, self-assessment with the recent reaction of Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick, after the Falcons finished a disappointing 7-9 and missed the NFC playoffs.

Said Vick, "I don't see how people can point the finger at me," he said. "I think I had a great season. ... I can't do it all by myself. I call myself Superman, but I really don't have the cape on my back. I can't change the game in certain situations. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't."

He’s not the first “star” athlete to decline accepting responsibility for the performance of the team he is paid handsomely to lead. Quarterbacks in particular accept widespread acclaim when their teams achieve success but some aren’t as keen to accept any criticism that comes their way when things go off the rails.

When an athlete says, “I can’t do it all by myself…” he is sending a terrible – and likely unappreciated— message to his teammates, especially when the words come from a so-called “team leader” such as Vick.

No athlete in a team sport – not Bobby Orr, Michael Jordan or Jim Brown—won games or championships on their own. Every player on their respective teams made contributions. Orr, Jordan and Brown may have shown their true greatness by helping make the players around them better, but those players nonetheless all made valuable contributions game by game and throughout the playoffs until the championship was won.

The moment an athlete starts thinking – and goes so far as to start saying publicly – he is “doing it all by himself”, chances are he is, emotionally, “losing” the very people he needs to achieve success, his teammates.

There is a wonderful life lesson here for young athletes – and for young people in general.

The real issue is not so much, perhaps, that Vick said what he said. Rather, the problem is that he felt that way in the first place.

How could anyone who has seen teammates work in the off-season, play through injuries and do their utmost to play at the highest level in their sport, has the support and guidance of top coaches to help him prepare to be successful every day, really feel as though he is “doing it alone”.

With this story as a backdrop, aspiring elite athletes would do well to look inside themselves, and do an attitude check.

If you think you’re doing it “by yourself”, think again.

And if you truly can’t convince yourself that you are not a one-man band, for goodness sake, don’t say so out loud.

You’ll lose the respect of teammates, coaches, scouts and fans—and anyone who had an interest in your career.

The Vick quote reminds me of a similar comment made by a young NHL draft prospect several years ago, when asked by the media why his “stats” had fallen off.

He said, “If I had better linemates and been given more playing time, I would have scored more…”

In one sentence, the player essentially trashed his teammates and his coach and publicly laid blame on others for his own shortcomings.

We all understand that teenage athletes may sometimes say things they shouldn’t. No one should be that programmed.

But that player likely lost something in the minds of his teammates, coaches – and the scouts who were assessing him—when he made that comment.

If you’re a parent, you may want to encourage your child not to follow the Michael Vick approach to leadership.

Big Promises, No Support

Over the past several years, I’ve had the opportunity to work as an advisor to a number of top Major Junior hockey players. Not as an agent, which I’m not, but as a professional who assists young athletes in terms of their off-ice development: attitude, work ethic, goal-setting, task completion, becoming a better team player and developing the qualities that will help them become more professional in their hockey life—and better people off the ice.

The work is stimulating, challenging, rewarding —and sometimes distressing.

I’m not sure if it is ironic or prophetic that, some 30 years ago when I was a young fellow breaking into the broadcast field, I hosted a cable television program in the growing community of Mississauga, Ontario. This is when ‘local cable television’ was truly local community programming.

Weekly, I brought in various guests to discuss sports issues of the day. (As an aside, only 2 individuals ever asked to be paid to appear. One was a legendary writer, the late Dick Beddoes, and the other a successful Canadian Olympic “amateur” athlete. Everyone else appeared without a fee.)

On this particular evening in, I believe, the winter of 1977, I invited guests from Canadian University hockey (Tom Watt), Major Junior Hockey (Dave Draper), Junior B hockey and others to discuss the choices young hockey players faced. My question was: What is the better route to go—Junior hockey, or accepting a scholarship to play in college in the United States?

Keep in mind in those days, the prevailing “Canadian” attitude was still very much that hockey was our game, and that the Americans were well behind us. Junior hockey was seen as the best way, by far, to earn your way to the NHL.

Canadian university hockey was even less likely to see you end up in the pro ranks, but I knew that Tom Watt, the Head Coach of the University of Toronto Varsity Blues at the time, was a passionate hockey guy and would bring a thoughtful dimension to the program.

My interest in the subject was largely spurred by a growing awareness on my part that junior hockey was not always what it was cracked up to be.

This was based to a certain extent on a situation I became aware of in the early 1970’s, when I was attending the University of Toronto. A friend’s younger brother was a rising “star” in junior “A” hockey. He was playing for his hometown team in what was then the Ontario Hockey Association. Life was good for him. At least, it was for a short while.

It’s not hard to imagine a young man, playing a game he loves and is really good at, thinking he will play for his first junior team for his entire 3-4 year pre-professional career. He believes, naturally so, what adults tell him about his potential, his future and his importance to the team.

Suddenly, he was traded at the beginning of his second junior season, at the tender age of 17. Never having been away from home, with no agent or advisor or trusted mentor to guide him (and a family with no experience at all in such matters), his world was turned upside down overnight. He refused to report to the team he was traded to. He sat at home, afraid, confused.

Threatened with what was essentially league banishment by the powers that be, he eventually reported.

He was, in his estimation, treated terribly by his new club. Soon, his confidence was shattered—a particularly tough circumstance for a young goaltender. He was eventually traded again, and played out his junior days as a back-up goalie, an unhappy young man, disillusioned, downcast, hating the game that only two years ago he had loved.

He had no education to speak of, and the league had no interest in helping him out. He had put everything he had into hockey, and only hockey. He was told, and had believed, that it would be his future.

As it turned out, he was just another casualty of the junior hockey world.

Through the years, this troubled me a lot. I argued when I interviewed junior hockey folks in my various radio life incarnations that education was not being taken seriously enough for these young hockey players; that most didn’t make the NHL, that too many were essentially used and abused.

I was always assured things were getting better and better.

Today, I’m told that there are wonderful education packages for virtually all players who give up their opportunity to go to the U.S. on scholarship, to stay and play in what is nowadays called the Ontario Hockey League (or the Western junior or Quebec loops).

Unfortunately, other issues still exist, I’m afraid.

Too often, the young athletes I work with still face the reality that they are chattel; paid a nominal gratuity every week to subsist while they travel daily to games and practices. They can be traded at a moments notice (how being traded in mid-season—and usually mid-semester in high school—is beneficial to them is still a puzzle to me after all these years.)

They are basically playing in a professional, for-profit league, but not receiving any of the benefits—other than a select few who are drafted and may some day earn a very handsome income in professional hockey. Statistically, the vast majority of elite young players at age, say, 15, never make it to the pro ranks, and even fewer for any length of time.

The bigger issue, for me, though, is that these young players—yes, sometimes too coddled and very immature in some ways—are the victims of terrible communication methods still utilized by their coaches and team management.

The adults often act like children, it seems, and the young player is left confused, uncertain and, again, disillusioned.

They are not sure how they should approach their coach. They wonder, “if I speak with him, will I end up benched, or with a one-way ticket out of town….?”

Almost weekly in junior hockey, we see players leave their teams, go home to sit and await a trade they have requested, or sit and stew on the bench as they see their burgeoning careers spiral seemingly downward.

Thankfully, more than ever, these young athletes nowadays have the benefit of more education in most instances, and access to information and off-ice support that simply wasn’t available when some of these issues were first brought to my attention back in 1972, when I myself was a university student.

I’d like to think junior hockey has the interests of its young athletes at heart. Too often, I find it very hard to believe.

I would imagine many parents, and many current and former young players could share a story or two with me about how things went off the rails for them.