by Mitch Albom | Apr 28, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
You are calm. You are serene. You are a perfectly mature adult who is not the least bit worried that tonight could mark the quick death of a once promising hockey season. Not at all.
“Coffee?” asks your spouse.
“COFFEY? WHAT ABOUT COFFEY? DON’T TELL ME HE GOT HURT! THAT’S ALL WE NEED! HOW DID HE GET HURT? BLAST IT! CURSES! RATS! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”
Your spouse runs upstairs. Must be having a bad day.
Not you. You are fine. You are at peace. You go to work, enter your office, nod at your colleagues.
One of them says, “How’s things?”
by Mitch Albom | Apr 24, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
You can’t run your own farewell party. Sometimes, you can’t even attend it. Today, in his house in Bloomfield Hills, crutches by his side, heel in a splint, Isiah Thomas no doubt realizes this.
And it must bother him. He had hoped for a better ending, a cleansing rinse on his long career, dotted toward the end with unanswered questions, bad press, injuries, and snickers from longtime critics.
by Mitch Albom | Apr 19, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
What makes a man? Strong hands, to bend destiny in his direction. Strong shoulders, to bear the weight of his actions. Strong heart, to weather the ups and downs of life, the grins, the headaches, the tears.The tears. There were plenty of those in Steve Fisher’s...
by Mitch Albom | Apr 18, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
You can’t tell anymore by the way he looks. With that stringy blond hair that he flicks out of his eyes, he could be any Generation X-er with high cheekbones and pouting lips.Nor can you tell by the way he talks. Most of the time, it’s awfully American...
by Mitch Albom | Apr 12, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
A city.Mobs of people spilling out of corner hamburger joints, noisy pubs, open-doored restaurants. Lines for souvenirs. Lines for bathrooms. Taxi cabs stopping, passengers stepping out.A city.A traffic cop directing streams of pedestrians, whistles between his teeth,...
by Mitch Albom | Apr 10, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
Once upon a time, when you asked someone for an interview, you didn’t plan on calling him names.
Then again, once upon a time, we used leeches to cure the common cold.
Times have changed. So it didn’t surprise me when an NFL quarterback named Jim Everett went on a cable talk show last week, and the host insultingly called him “Chris” — as in Chris Evert, the female tennis player — not once, not twice, but three times.
“I’ll bet you don’t call me that again,” the quarterback warned.
“I’ll bet I do,” the host said.
He smirked.
“Chris,” he said.
by Mitch Albom | Apr 6, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
CHARLOTTE, N.C. — The sweat was still dripping from the national championship victory when Arkansas decided it was time to use the r-word.”We didn’t get any respect all year,” Corliss Williamson said, holding the trophy.”Nobody respected...
by Mitch Albom | Apr 5, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
C HARLOTTE, N.C. — The shot was a prayer; it left Scotty Thurman’s hand with one second left on the shot clock and arched so high, the President of the United States could have reached out and touched it from his special seat in the upper deck. Who knows? Maybe he did. How else could a championship like this be decided, but by presidential decree?
by Mitch Albom | Apr 4, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
CHARLOTTE, N.C. — The big lie began every morning, with the book bag he carried and the clothes he wore. He would eat breakfast, kiss his mother good-bye, make like he was going to school, then not go to school at all. He would go to a gym and play ball. All day. When one gym closed, he would go to another. In between, he’d sit in parks and stare at the sky.
by Mitch Albom | Apr 2, 1994 | Detroit Free Press
CHARLOTTE, N.C. — If he wore a red sweater, if he kicked over chairs, if he spoke in a churlish southern accent or shaved his head and screamed “TIME OUT, BABY!” Or if he looked like Rick Pitino or wore suits like Pat Riley or sucked his way up to...
