Eleven years old. I was in the fifth grade. I wore black sneakers. I rode a Sting-Ray bicycle. I climbed trees with friends. I had never kissed a girl. I ate Cocoa Puffs for breakfast. That summer I went to sleepaway camp and a man landed on the moon. When I got home, I built a plastic model of Apollo 11 and kept it in my bedroom.Eleven years old. I have been thinking about how young that is, in light of arguments last week over how old it is.
I would like to write a glowing column about Chris Webber, one that celebrates him home. But it's not that easy.I would like to cheer his return, talk about winning a title with his hometown team in the autumn of his career. But it's not that simple.I would like to share only positive things about Chris Webber as I have been privileged to know many of them, his family, his intelligence, his grace. I once liked this kid as much as I've ever liked any young athlete in Detroit. But that wouldn't be the whole story.
Before we close the book on the college football season, I wonder if you had the same feeling I did watching Florida trounce Ohio State for the national championship. It didn't leave me cheering. It didn't leave me satisfied.It left me depressed.
When are certain people involved with this Duke lacrosse team case going to use the word they seem to be consciously avoiding?Liar.It's a word for someone who tells lies. And so far, the only thing certain in this case is that the accuser has told many of them. The biggest, of course, may be that she was raped. Now she says she can't be sure. As a result, rape charges against the three players were dropped, charges that have damaged their lives forever.Yet no one calls her a liar.
And what if Chris Webber became a Piston? It could happen. The Pistons would like it to happen. Hey, any team that could pick up a guy of Webber's talent - or what's left of it - for the price of chewing gum by NBA standards would be crazy not to.And so the Pistons might.And wouldn't that be something?
When I was a kid, I shoveled snow to make a few dollars. One time, a friend and I did a driveway for a grumpy old neighbor. We pooped out before all the snow was gone, and when we asked to be paid, the old man refused."You don't finish, I don't pay," he said.We skulked off. But those were the rules of the marketplace. You wanna get paid, you gotta do the job. Simple enough, right?
PASADENA, Calif. - Here came a linebacker. Here came a nose tackle. Here came a cornerback. Here came another linebacker.It's supposed to be the ocean that smacks up against you in these parts, but on Monday it was the Southern Cal defense that crashed like waves against Michigan quarterback Chad Henne, over and over, chasing him, knocking him down, until you half expected some "Baywatch" lifeguard to come flying out of the stands to save him.No such luck.
PASADENA, Calif. - Here came a linebacker. Here came a nose tackle. Here came a cornerback. Here came another linebacker. It's supposed to be the ocean that smacks against you in these parts, but on Monday it was the Southern California defense that crashed like waves against Michigan quarterback Chad Henne, over and over, chasing him, knocking him down, stuffing him into the turf, until you half-expected some "Baywatch" lifeguard to come flying out of the stands to save him.As Kid Rock might say, where's Pamela Anderson when you need her?
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.
