by Mitch Albom | May 14, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
“How you feeling?” someone asks.
“Ah . . . OK,” Kirk Gibson mumbles.
He limps through the doorway. His left ankle is in a plastic cast as big as a ski boot. He plops down near the whirlpool and undoes the straps. It is 9 a.m. It is the Henry Ford Hospital, Center for Athletic Medicine. Kirk Gibson is the first patient. As usual. Every morning. An hour and a half. At least. And more in the afternoon.
There are no bat boys here. No pine tar. No tossing jock straps at each other. This is therapy. This is dull. This is boring, and it hurts.
by Mitch Albom | May 13, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
My heart was pounding. I entered the room. I’d faced mobs before. The Super Bowl. The Kentucky Derby infield. The Hertz ticket counter.But nothing could prepare me for this. Nothing could prepare me for . . . the third grade.The third grade?”They’re...
by Mitch Albom | May 11, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
ANN ARBOR — This is a sad and wonderful story and it begins with a college pitcher. His name is Jim Abbott. He is tall and beach-boyishly handsome, with a shock of brown hair, a fetching smile, broad shoulders and one hand.Only one. He was born without the...
by Mitch Albom | May 9, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
THE LIVE ALBOM . . .
* The Cleveland Indians are in first place. The San Francisco Giants are in first place. Billy Martin wants to manage again. My head hurts.
* Only a very sick person would sneak up behind Jack Morris these days and scream: “IT’S A LONG FLY BALL, DEEP TO LEFT. . . ”
* Come on. Admit it. You miss Kirk Gibson.
by Mitch Albom | May 8, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
When she was a kid, her father never let her read her newspaper clippings.”Why can’t I see them?” she would ask.”Because that was yesterday,” he would say.The yesterdays piled up. Past Eisenhower and Kennedy and Vietnam and punk rock. Now...
by Mitch Albom | May 6, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
He sat in an office behind smoked glass windows. He wore a sports jacket and a button-down shirt. No pads. No helmet. These were the final 60 minutes of Doug English’s football life. He was going out as a civilian.
“You OK, big fella?” a front-office guy asked.
“I’m OK,” English said.
“You mind waiting here until the press conference?”
“I don’t have any other plans,” English said.
by Mitch Albom | May 6, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
He sat in an office behind smoked-glass windows. He wore a sports jacket and a button-down shirt. No pads. No helmet. These were the final 60 minutes of Doug English’s football life. He was going out as a civilian.
“You OK, big fella?” a front-office guy asked.
“I’m OK,” English said.
“You mind waiting here until the press conference?”
“Well, I don’t have any other plans,” English said.
by Mitch Albom | May 4, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
LOUISVILLE — The beasts were pawing at the gates.
“START THEM UP!” someone screamed.
“WOOOH!” screamed someone else.
Only the gates stood between them and mad glory. The beasts were restless. The beasts wanted to run.
“IT’S TIIIIME!” someone screamed.
“DO IT!” screamed someone else.
A cop checked his watch. There were about 75 cops there, billy clubs by their sides, safe on the other side of the gates, away from these wild animals. The cop with the watch looked up. He nodded.
by Mitch Albom | May 4, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
LOUISVILLE — The beasts were pawing at the gates.
“START THEM UP!” someone screamed.
“WOOOH!” screamed someone else.
Only the gates stood between them and mad glory. The beasts were restless. The beasts wanted to run.
“IT’S TIIIIME!” someone screamed.
“DO IT!” screamed someone else.
A cop checked his watch. There were about 75 cops there, billy clubs by their sides, safe on the other side of the gates, away from these wild animals. The cop with the watch looked up. He nodded.
by Mitch Albom | May 2, 1986 | Detroit Free Press
LOUISVILLE, Ky. — The horse named Snow Chief was alone in the stable. A reporter approached.”Can I have a minute?” the reporter asked.The horse looked up with a mouthful of oats. “It won’t take long,” the reporter continued....
