by Mitch Albom | Sep 5, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
Football is a game that takes hours to play but is defined by seconds. A fumble. A slip. A snap decision. You add those moments together and more than any statistic, they tell you who won. Here was Scott Mitchell, on the ledge of such a moment, late in the game, his debut in Detroit, trailing by a touchdown, his knee throbbing from an earlier collision and the new radio speaker in his helmet squawking like some old Russian telephone.
Also, it was fourth down.
And they were using their last time-out.
“Let’s pass it,” one of the coaches said.
by Mitch Albom | Sep 4, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
“Hey, aren’t you Rosa Parks?”It was a sentence she had heard a million times before, usually followed by a handshake, a hug, and congratulations for her historic deeds. Now she was in a red bathrobe, it was nighttime, and she had come downstairs to...
by Mitch Albom | Sep 3, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
I thought about retiring.After all, I’ve been making these pro picks since the mid- 80’s, back when Curt Sylvester’s hair was black.OK. Maybe that’s a stretch. Nobody goes back that far. But it has been many years and many tears and many names...
by Mitch Albom | Aug 7, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
It was an ocean town, where people strolled barefoot on the boardwalk, ate saltwater taffy, and rode the Ferris wheel on a grimy promenade called the Steel Pier. Those who lived there worked in food joints, small hotels, or as jitney drivers. They made seaside wages, which were low, and many older residents did not work at all. It was hardly a boomtown, but it had its charm. Poor charm, perhaps. It became a poor place. A poor place that wanted to be rich.
It turned to casino gambling.
The town was Atlantic City.
by Mitch Albom | Aug 5, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
HAMILTON, Ontario — The funny thing about these Dream Team performances: It’s damn hard to tell who won. Is it the team with the long faces, answering questions about a disappointing night? Or the team waving little flags and blowing kisses to its fans?
by Mitch Albom | Jul 30, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
DRYDEN — “May I see the bird, please?”
I actually yelled this. I know. It is not a sentence you can picture me yelling. It is not a sentence you can picture anyone yelling, except maybe Prince Charles or Ace Ventura, Pet Detective. “May I see the bird, please?” And that’s not all. Here is the whole phrase:
“May I see the bird, please?” . . .
BANG!
Blown to pieces.
by Mitch Albom | Jul 29, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
PRYOR, Mont. — These are grown men talking:
“HO, CATTLE! . . . yo, cattle, yo, cattle! . . . EEEEE YUTYUTYUT! . . . move, you no-goods . . . AGGAGAGAGAGA! . . . HO, CATTLE! YO, CATTLE!”
This is not normal conversation. Then again, we are talking to cows. Not we, exactly, because I am on a horse with my mouth open in utter disbelief. But the other people here at the Schively Ranch are instructing the cows to
— in cowboy talk — git.
Git?
by Mitch Albom | Jul 28, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
LIVINGSTON, Mont. — A river ran through me.It ran through my shoes, my socks, my pants and my underwear. Cold Montana river water. Did I mind? Ha! I am rugged. I am tough. Besides, I was too busy having this stimulating discussion with my fishing...
by Mitch Albom | Jul 27, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
DEVILS TOWER, Wyo. — It was not a good time — with my fingers trembling, my feet slipping, my heart pumping and my body pressed like flypaper against the cold, hard rock — to look down.I looked down anyhow.This is what I saw: trees. The tops of...
by Mitch Albom | Jul 21, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
Nothing for nothing. That’s the bottom line of the Bob Probert equation. You watch him walk out the door now, motorcycle helmet under his arm, off to make big cash and who knows what trouble someplace else, and all you can do is shake your head and say what a mess, what a waste, what an ending. For all the stupid sympathy the Red Wings gave this guy, all the excuses, the lying, the coddling, the protection, the rehab — not to mention the money — in the end, he gives them his worst season and walks freely out the door, thanks mostly to their mistake. Nothing for nothing.
