WE NEED ARETHA, MADONNA TO MATCH UP WITH LAKERS

Partners In Green Make Spartan Memories

PASADENA, Calif. — They will see each other again some day, maybe 20 or 30 years from now, at a picnic or a party or an alumni function. Bobby McAllister, the quarterback. Lorenzo White, the tailback. They will laugh and slap backs, remember this story and that story.

WE NEED ARETHA, MADONNA TO MATCH UP WITH LAKERS

Msu Rises To Rosesthey Had The Ball; They Had It All

PASADENA, Calif. — They had the ball! They had the ball! Todd Krumm was cradling it, dancing with it, raising it above his head and leaping into the arms of teammate Kurt Larson, and only gravity kept them from flying off into space. All the waiting, all the lean years, all the talk of Rose Bowl jinx — it was all crushed down and squeezed inside this little brown football, and now, Michigan State had it. God. At last.

WE NEED ARETHA, MADONNA TO MATCH UP WITH LAKERS

Focus…Right Over Here…On The Team In Green…

NEWPORT BEACH, CALIF. — GOOD MORNING! HAPPY NEW YEA– WHAT’S THAT? TOO LOUD? OOH. SORRY. ROUGH NIGHT, HUH? I CAN TELL BY THE TORTILLA DIP ABOVE YOUR EYELID. ALSO THE FACT THAT YOU SAID “TOO LOUD” TO A NEWSPAPER. THAT’S PRETTY STRANGE, DON’T YOU THINK? BY THE WAY, YOU MIGHT WANT TO WIPE THAT DIP OFF BEFORE YOU ATTEMPT TO OPEN THE OTHER–

WHOA. LOOK OUT. OVER HERE. NO.

DOWN HERE THAT’S

IT.

TOUGH TO FOCUS WITH BOTH OF THEM, ISN’T IT?

WE NEED ARETHA, MADONNA TO MATCH UP WITH LAKERS

Campanis, The Goat Of ’87, Offers Lesson In Perspective

NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. — His phone number was easy enough to find. He still lives in southern California, same house, same patio, same swimming pool. Someone said he was working on a book. I dialed the seven digits.

For the last column of 1987, I wanted to talk with the year’s biggest goat.

“Al Campanis?” I said.

“Speaking,” said the voice.

WE NEED ARETHA, MADONNA TO MATCH UP WITH LAKERS

Perles In Paradise It’S The Best Week Of The Best Year Of The Best Job Of His Life

NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. — The bus rolls off the avenue and into the crowded parking lot. The passengers peer out the window. Most of them are muscular young men wearing green satin football jackets. The coach, a round figure with silver hair, stands up in front.

“AWRIGHT, GUYS. YOU KNOW WHO YOU’RE GONNA SEE HERE? HUH?”

Silence.

“YOU’RE GONNA SEE MICKEY MOUSE. MY MAN MICKEY.”

Laughter.

“AND DONALD DUCK.”

Laughter.

“AND . . . AND . . . ” He looks for help. “Who’s that other guy?”

“Pluto?”

Speaking Of The Lions, Let’S Try Not To Until June

Speaking Of The Lions, Let’S Try Not To Until June

ATLANTA — I know many of you would like to strangle the Lions for winning Sunday and dropping themselves from No. 1 to No. 2 in next year’s draft. To which I say:

Go ahead, do it.

No. Just kidding. Where’s your Christmas spirit? We might have looked at the Lions as the worst team in football all year — but obviously we weren’t looking far enough.

Here in Georgia, in the last game of the season, we found a creature few people thought existed. The Atlanta Falcon. So inept, so pathetic, that Detroit looked playoff-bound by comparison.