Public high schools in Hillsborough County have as many as 23 sports teams, filled with eager young lads and lasses about to experience the thrill of competition.
Competition is good, right? Sports can teach valuable lessons.
Participants learn to handle failure as well as success. They learn the value of preparation and teamwork for a common goal. Both of my sons were on athletic teams while in high school, and one of them coaches now in the county. I've been around sports my whole life.
But I never quite got the big picture about what it really takes to play now until the day my wife came home from her front office job at a local high school. She was carrying a large box overflowing with file after file after file.
She stacked the contents on our dining room table and started going through them.
"What's that?" I asked warily.
"Athletic packets."
I shrugged and said something like, "Oh," wandered off to the other room and flipped on the telly. That's when I started hearing mumbles, grumbles and bah-humbugs coming from the other room with increasing volume. My sainted wife, I should note, is a Christian lady and doesn't use locker-room language.
This scenario has been repeated several times. I have since learned to hate the start of the school year because I know that means it is Packet Time.
Simply put, these packets are filled with multiple forms that must be completed before a student can even practice, much less play in a game. The number of required forms seems to multiply each year.
They include proof of a physical exam, insurance, liability release, media release - oh, lots of stuff, including proof that a student lives in that school's attendance boundaries and wasn't recruited.
What? Recruiting in high school sports?
It happens.
Back in my high school days, about all we had to do was go to Doc Simendinger's office for a physical that lasted about three minutes. If your heart was beating and you were breathing, go ahead and suit up.
I guess that was before lawyers got involved. So, she checks and double-checks these forms because something might go wrong.
A player could get hurt, so the insurance better be in order.
A player might live within the boundaries of another school. Proof of residency is required because you don't want to forfeit a state football championship (see Hawks, Armwood).
A player might get a concussion during competition, so everyone involved better know how to recognize it and what to do.
If something bad happens and the paperwork isn't complete, the school could get sued and the world could come crashing down on my beloved's head,
Now, this would all be fine if the paperwork was ship-shape when it landed on her desk. But that's a Christmas-morning wish. Think of it as herding more than 300 cats.
Coaches know the importance of getting these forms done, but - not naming names - there have been a few over the years who didn't quite see the big picture.
Some turn in incomplete packets and wonder why they get bounced back. And they will get bounced back because I can tell you after 37 years being married to this woman, she misses nothing.
Some coaches forget to turn them in. Or they lose them. Or they don't have them because the athlete didn't bring the packet. Or the parent, juggling a job and other responsibilities, hasn't had time to provide everything required for participation.
I leave you with a heartfelt plea directed to the parents of high school athletes, no matter the sport. Do the paperwork. Do it correctly. Turn it in. And don't yell at the secretary from your school if more clarification is needed.
There are a lot of rules, but they don't make them. They just have to follow them.