NEW ORLEANS -- "Hello, Doc.""Why, Mr. Elway. You're back.""Yeah.""Something wrong?""Kind of.""Want to talk about it?""Guess so.""Lie down on the couch. Now then, is the press bothering you again?""A little bit.""You feel suffocated.""Well, I--""You are overwhelmed.""Well, I--""They're asking what kind of Halloween candy you gave out. They're interviewing your milkman. They're picking through your trash, hoping to find what brand of toilet paper you use."
NEW YORK -- Near the back of the men's locker room, on a wooden bench, Aaron Krickstein sat by himself, counting down the minutes. Soon he would become the loneliest man in New York City, the man who would try to beat Jimmy Connors, a former tennis bad boy who just turned 39, and suddenly everyone wants to take him home and hug him."When was the last time you played a 39-year-old?" someone asked Krickstein. "My coach," he said, smiling.
MINNEAPOLIS -- The Japanese, we are told, don't want our cars. They don't want our electronics. They don't want our work habits. But they do want our Super Bowl.That was pretty clear this week, when I spotted no less than 30 Japanese workers from a single Japanese TV station, all here for the big game. I noticed them racing around the Metrodome, seeking interviews with players. I noticed them lugging video equipment, often running from one location to the next, the heavy steel units slamming on their shoulders.
They don't resent each other, and they don't resent the media. They resent the coach. Let's get that straight. Andre Ware, Rodney Peete and Erik Kramer, the three quarterbacks on this odd little merry-go-round in silver and blue stretch uniforms. Point the finger at one man: Wayne Fontes.In this way, they are no different from most American workers. They blame the boss.And, like most workers, they have to bite their tongues and keep it to themselves.Andre Ware played all day Sunday in the win over Phoenix at the Silverdome. He was not bad, but not great.
It's that time of year again, when the temperature drops and winds howl and snowstorms hit and so people naturally say, "Hey, let's go up in a plane!"This explains the huge lines at ticket counters this past week, as airlines ran their annual "holiday" fares.(By the way, the word "holiday," as we all know, is airline code for "more small print at the bottom of the ad." No one has ever read this print, since even a cockroach would need glasses to do that. However, scientific research reveals that one of the lines, blown up 5,000 times, reads as follows:
* Detroit 20, NY Giants 17: First of all, you should know that I always get these Lions picks wrong. Second, the Giants stink.* Dallas 107, Cincinnati 102: The Bengals score all their points in the final three minutes, after the Cowboys leave the field because they're laughing so hard.
PASADENA, Calif. -- In the end there was no Santa Claus. No Happy New Year. Bo Schembechler could only stand there, the headphones dangling, as the final seconds of his career ticked away. The wrong way. Michael Taylor, his quarterback, threw wide, the ball hit the ground. He threw deep. The ball sailed past the intended receiver.
Cecil Fielder, his hair still wet from the shower, was buttoning his shirt with a towel around his waist, as if he couldn't get out of Detroit fast enough. A TV reporter approached for an interview. Fielder waved him off. Sorry. Not talking."See you next spring, Cecil," said a locker room guy."All right," Cecil said, not looking up. He pulled a gray sport coat off the hook and slipped it over his shoulders.
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.
