And the winner is... the losers

On one hand, I’m happy Dean Smith is being awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Smith was a great coach and, by all accounts, is a good man.

I’d definitely never lump him in with anyone associated with today’s athletic department. Smith, now 82, has a condition that negatively affects his memory — not to be confused with the condition of most University staff now, which only affects memory during investigations, under oath or when their best player gets arrested.

So I’d definitely never want to blaspheme Coach Smith — peace and blessings be upon him — but as important as teaching men to throw balls through a hoop is in the grand scheme of time, I can’t help but wonder: Is there no one else?

The medal is the highest civilian honor in the country, and Smith will be joining the ranks of Rosa Parks, Nelson Mandela and, of course, Oprah. But what about Claudette Colvin, or the firefighters from 9/11 or whoever invented yoga pants? We give too many awards now, to too many people and for all the wrong reasons.

And Smith’s family will be accepting the medal from a president who won the Nobel Peace Prize before he had even finished shaping the conflict-free Middle East we know and love so much today.

It’s not just the people in power. America’s become one big, feel-good group hug.

So many people have awards, we can’t recognize who really deserves them anymore.

You practically need them for just a starting internship. And am I the only student at this school who isn’t a f—-ing Morehead-Cain Scholar?

Even our state fair isn’t exempt. I saw signs everywhere that said, “A prize every time.”
Why, I was so angry I almost threw up my Krispy Kreme sloppy Joe.

There isn’t a prize in life every time, but we’re afraid to let just the best win, because so many more would have to lose. And that hurts.

This year, even the DTH Editorial Board supported taking class rank off of high school students’ transcripts, because it would help reduce “immense stress.”

High school, they wrote, should be “a place for adolescents to explore interests, learn about themselves and take chances.”

No, that’s the Craigslist personals. Or, at least — going by what I’m reading on bathroom walls — the Davis library stalls.

High school’s the place to be miserable. It prepares us for the real world, which is even more miserable.

In high school, I was ranked near the bottom. Come to think of it, not much has changed. But dumb enough as I was, I never expected to be recognized for anything other than special assistance.

It was only the kick in the ass called Life that made me start working hard enough to re-enroll in school to eventually get here. That’s what’s changing.

Take it from me: For the right people, not winning is more motivating.

Memet Walker is an award-winning columnist.