The Integrity of the Sport

I have taken a self-imposed hiatus from blogging this semester to focus on other, necessary things (this is a side-line isn’t it?). But I read something today that I can’t pass up. In an age where people are only sorry if they get caught, it refreshes my soul to see someone do the right thing when they aren’t in danger of being caught. J.P. Hayes realized he had used an illegal ball in his round while qualifying for his tour card. He DQ’d himself. In this day and age, people don’t do that. They wait until caught, then deny it, spin it, blame others, and if faced with overwhelming evidence, might read a pre-prepared statement apologizing for their behavior—nothing like an apology in a monotone voice. 

Not Hayes: he realized he did the wrong thing, made a phone call that could conceivably cost him millions of dollars, and in the end new all was well. May his tribe increase.


I’m sorry—I got caught.

Jesse Jackson had to apologize to Barack Obama for a crude comment he made when he thought the microphone was turned off. It seems Jackson doesn’t appreciate Obama spending time talking to the black community about morality. Once again, Jackson shows his lack of integrity. Would he have thought to apologize had he not been overheard? He later goes on to say that more important issues than morality threaten the black community like unemployment and the number of blacks in prison. Yet wouldn’t the morality issue deal with both of these to some degree? Jackson does not appear to be interested in integrity, thus Obama’s morality speeches would likely anger Jackson. Jackson is interested in saving face, not the black community.


Jenna and I are reading To Kill a Mockingbird together. The other night we came across a passage that held me up to the light and showed some deficiencies. Miss Maudie and Scout are discussing the saneness of Boo Radley and Scout says,


“You reckon he’s crazy?”

Miss Maudie shook her head. “If he’s not he should be by now. The things that happen to people we never really know. What happens in houses behind closed doors, what secrets—

“Atticus don’t ever do anything to Jem and me in the house that he don’t do in the yard,” I said, feeling it my duty to defend my parent.

“Gracious child, I was raveling a thread, wasn’t even thinking about your father, but now that I am I’ll say this: Atticus Finch is the same in his house as he is on the public streets.”


Well, that got me thinking. Am I the same in my house as on the public streets? Would I do anything or say anything in the house that I wouldn’t do or say in the yard? What’s my behavior like when no one is watching or when just certain people are watching? We have a word for that kind of consistency: integrity.