For weeks, Larry Brown has said he'll go to the Mayo Clinic, spend three days, then let the Pistons know if he can coach. Those three days are up today. But if you're expecting a yes or no, forget it. For one thing, this is the Mayo Clinic, not Lourdes.For another, this is Larry Brown, where the answer is rarely yes or no, but more like "Well, if these guys want me, and if these guys don't "
The old man on the mound had been masterful, dominating, placing pitches as if he'd been throwing them all season instead of just a few weeks out of retirement. But he was leaving now, growling, cursing, glaring at the umpire, with no runs to support him and two baserunners he had created with ball fours. It was the seventh inning, under deepening blue skies, and one thing was certain on this summer night in this summer of Detroit baseball: the Tigers were not losing to Roger Clemens. But it might be the other way around.
So everyone has a gun.Let's start with that idea. Everyone has a gun. What will this mean? In the minds of some people - those who think last week's Supreme Court decision protecting gun ownership was wonderful - it means if you come after me now, I can take you down. If you try to take what's mine, I can defend myself - by shooting you dead, if need be.If I'm scared, I don't need to be, because I have my gun. If you scare me and I want to scare you back, I can, because I have my gun.
It's never good to start with an apology, but we owe one to the Tigers and we should say so at the top. This is a good team with a great story and until very recently, some of us in the media treated them the way middle-aged disc jockeys treated early rock 'n' roll: just a fad, a flash in the pan.Well, they're more pan than flash. The Tigers have talented young pitchers, a proven veteran starter, hungry hitters and a manager who understands games are won by what's in the players' heads as much as what's in their swings.
So I was sitting down to write this column about summer and how that season has changed, because the official "first day" of summer came last week, and for my generation, that meant a shift into slow motion, long, languid days nursing a Coca-Cola, or rolling cornmeal on fishing hooks, or seeing who had a sprinkler to run through, or taking another bicycle ride around the same five blocks.
Soldiers face the worst kind of dangers. Gunfire. Explosives. Missiles. Bombs. But who knew their biggest worry might be a chocolate chip cookie?That's the ridiculous message being sent to a group called the Maine Troop Greeters, which provides applause, hugs, smiles - along with cookies, cakes and fudge - for troops coming back from war through the Bangor International Airport.Not anymore. Too dangerous, the greeters were told.
SAN ANTONIO - They were taking Richard Hamilton to the interview area, and because the Pistons' locker room was on the other side of the arena, the walk was long and he had to look at everything. This is what he passed. He passed a huge open area with tables full of Spurs fans. He passed a group of Frenchmen, soaked with champagne, cheering Tony Parker. He passed Spanish-speaking journalists, emerging from the steamy San Antonio locker room, gushing over Manu Ginobili. He passed a curtained area where Spurs VIPs posed for photos with a giant golden trophy.
To: Mr. Joe Glass, Larry Brown's agentDear Mr. Glass,I would like you to represent me.Before you say yes or no, may I say how much I admire your work? I have watched you take Larry Brown from Denver to New Jersey to San Antonio to L.A. to Indiana to Philadelphia to Detroit to New York City. Wow! Where I come from, you only move that much if the cops are chasing you. Any agent who can find that much work is my kind of guy!
Novelists say when they start a new book that they often have several endings in mind. But at some point they choose one and throw out the others. No more "maybe this happens, maybe that." They find their North Star and sail toward it defiantly.Same goes for the Pistons, on this morning of the last day of the last game of the year. All other endings have been thrown out now. All other possibilities -- early exits, unexpected collapses -- are crumpled in the trash can. There is one page -- and one page only -- that completes the book of Detroit's operatic season.Win it.
With all the problems facing this country, the issue of "who sits where" shouldn't rank very high. But last week it did, after two Muslim women were denied seats behind Barack Obama at his rally at Joe Louis Arena, seats that would have placed them in full view of the TV cameras broadcasting his speech.The women were moved away, they said, because they each wore a hijab, the traditional Muslim head scarf. That image, volunteers told them, was politically sensitive for Obama.
All right, Rasheed. You want to make up for it? Have a monster game tonight. Have a game where you not only start strong, you finish strong, too. Have a game where you don't float in and out like a ghost going from room to room looking for someone to scare. Because the Pistons need you to be scary tonight. And, quite frankly, you owe them one.
SAN ANTONIO - They took every stone the devil could throw, and they caught the last one and threw it back in his face. It took history. It took belief. It took desperation in every dribble. But mostly it took hope, and with every Pistons achievement - every Rip Hamilton jumper, every Rasheed Wallace put-back, every Ben Wallace block, every Chauncey Billups three-pointer - there was hope. They were supposed to die, because that's what teams do when faced with silly odds. But here they were at the end, heading off the floor with one more game to play.Dead men walking.
