The nice thing about a Pistons-Pacers game is you go in with such low entertainment expectations a fast break seems like Paul McCartney doing "Yesterday." You want to scream.Well, let 'er rip. When Ben Wallace is playing like a mad scoring machine, when the Pistons have 52 points at halftime, when you can actually hear their thundering feet moving downcourt with (gulp) speed -- then holler away.Because you know the night will at least be fun -- and most likely victorious.
Niklas Kronwall came plowing into his Dallas opponent like a football linebacker running to make a bus. Shoulder in. Opponent goes up. Opponent crashes. Kronwall skates away. What rust?
Like it or not, the Pistons are playing the Pacers again, starting tonight at the Palace. So listen up, because these are the rules:1. If you can drink it, you can't throw it.2. Popcorn goes in your mouth.3. It's a buzzer, not a boxing bell.4. Chill.5. If a player lies on the scorer's table, give him a break: Maybe he's tired.6. Ron Artest is not playing. There's no reason to scream at him.7. It's a ticket, not a hunting license.8. It's a hot dog, not a missile.9. Be nice with your ice.10. Be like Yoda with your soda.
SAN JOSE, Calif. - Mike Babcock sat alone in a windowless space in the bowels of the Sharks' arena. Because reporters were rushing to file stories, there were mostly empty chairs before him. He spoke about victory, the sense of pride and relief.But it felt too small, like a presidential candidate talking at a bus stop. So we should take a moment here to appreciate how damn hard it is to do what the Red Wings have just done: reach the conference finals as a favored team.
When Chris Osgood was a kid in Edmonton, Alberta, his dad was principal of his grade school. One day, the class was asked to write about their fathers. Young Chris turned in his paper, which surprised the teacher."My father," Osgood wrote, "is a fireman."A fireman?"I didn't want the other kids to know," he says now. "I thought it was embarrassing that he worked in the school."
SAN JOSE, Calif. - As we always say, you can never have enough Swedes on your hockey team. Mikael Samuelsson may not be the first name you think of when rattling off Swedish Wings, but Monday night he was the Nordic Nuke, the Scandinavian Slayer, the Go-To Goteburger. His two goals in less than five minutes continued a streak of Swedish successes that have finally, finally, given the Red Wings two things they desperately wanted:1) A return to the Western Conference finals for the first time in five years, and 2) A day off.Swedeness and light.
When Chris Osgood was a kid in Edmonton, Alberta, his dad was principal of his grade school. One day, the class was asked to write about their fathers. Young Chris turned in his paper, which surprised the teacher."My father," Osgood wrote, "is a fireman."A fireman?"I didn't want the other kids to know," he says now. "I thought it was embarrassing that he worked in the school."
A knuckleballer can make you look like hell, and the Tigers need no help in that department. So Tuesday night at Comerica Park had potential ugly written all over it - even before it started. In that way, it did not disappoint. Against Boston's Tim Wakefield, who turns 94 as you read this, the Tigers looked impatient, imprudent and totally imperfect.This is a floundering baseball team.There's no other way to say it. You could say "slump," but that wouldn't explain the bad defense or tepid at-bats. You could say "growing pains," but these are not all young guys.
Mitch Albom writes about running an orphanage in impoverished Port-au-Prince, Haiti, his kids, their hardships, laughs and challenges, and the life lessons he’s learned there every day.
