Detroit Free Press

As any chased rabbit can tell you, running from in front is not much fun. You can hurt yourself looking over your ...

By now you know about "the head-butt that shook the world." It happened last Sunday, when French soccer star ...

Ben Wallace is scheduled to talk today. But I have heard him talk before. I've heard him talk by his locker. I've ...

There's a time when you cast a shadow and a time when the shadow casts you. This, more than anything, is why ...

From the day he was drafted, a shaggy haired kid with a soft, nervous voice, he promised to do his best, even though, as he warned a TV interviewer, he sometimes tried to do too much. Who knew that sentence would be an understatement? He did so much for his team and his town that in time it became immeasurable - and impossible to reproduce. Steve Yzerman, the man, will get up today as a retired hockey player and go on with his life.But Steve Yzerman, the idea, is likely gone for good.

It was a graduation. It was June. The ceiling fans spun overhead and the microphone squeaked when a young woman began to speak."Before I came here," she said, "I was a student. …"She paused. The crowd listened patiently, some fanning themselves against the heat."I was a student addicted to cocaine and marijuana. And I was an alcoholic. …"Many nodded."My attendance decreased. I had no self-esteem. … I was just a lost soul. …"More nods. A yell of encouragement."Today, I have the tools to lead a successful, productive, sober life. …"

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 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.