MINNEAPOLIS -- The elbow flew, it made contact, and suddenly, Chris Webber was Rocky, taking the whack and hitting the deck, as the crowd noise swirled like a jet engine on dope. He was halfway to la-la land, head on the floor, eyes wet with ooze. You could almost hear Burgess Meredith yelling "Stay down! Stay down!" Jalen Rose leaned over him. Steve Fisher leaned over him. The trainer, Dave Ralston, leaned over him.What do doctors tell you when your nose is broken? 1) Take it easy. 2) Avoid stress. 3) Avoid contact. Above all, avoid contact.To which Chris Webber says:
* Lions 23, Patriots 14: New England. New Coach. New Quarterback. Same mess.* Minnesota 20, Chicago 17: Jim McMahon steps under center, looks across the line at his old Bears teammates, and says, "Hey, you never returned my albums . . ."
I've seen heavyweight fights go like this: One guy comes out on fire and gets the crowd all worked up. Pow! Pow! His fists are flying, and his opponent takes every shot, the blood spitting from his face, until he looks like he'll go down any moment -- which only excites the aggressor more. Only the opponent doesn't go down. He stays standing. Blow after blow. And finally, the first guy, exhausted from all this punching with no reward, takes a breath, says, "Hey, what's with this lug?"And pow! The other guy knocks him out.
From those dirty summers in downtown Los Angeles, when he unloaded watermelons from a supermarket truck, now to this: Gray pinstripe suit. Wife in a fur coat. A contract worth $36 million to play a game many would play for free. And you know the thing that made the biggest impression on Cecil Fielder as he sat before the lights and microphones in the Detroit Tigers' conference room? This is what made the biggest impression:Somebody wants me.
BARCELONA -- In the old, bloody days, when his was the only sport worth talking about in this country, the young man's courage would make him a hero. Kings would applaud. Senoritas would throw roses into the ring.
HUNTINGTON BEACH, Calif. -- The helmet will not go easily. He has had it since arriving at Michigan, five years, five autumns, same helmet, same face mask. Every spring he would hand it to the equipment man for safe-keeping, and every fall he would make sure to get it back. Once, after a practice in his junior year, an excited fan tried to grab his chin strap, yank it off as he ran past. Elvis Grbac made the save."It was down to its last snap," he says, clearly relieved. "I got it just in time."
Let's talk about terrorism. Not the kind that puts bombs under car hoods; that is terrorism we associate with foreign countries. No. Let's talk about a terrorism that is taking place right here, right now, in the heartland of America.Kansas.Wichita, to be exact. In the past four weeks, Wichita has become a battleground. The jails are stuffed. A judge requires 24-hour police protection. And workers inside an abortion clinic stay days at a time, sleeping on cots, afraid if they leave they will not be allowed back in.
I don't usually go to bat for professional athletes. I figure they are strong enough, rich enough or lucky enough to take care of themselves. But once in awhile, an athlete comes along and hits a tough spot and, well, I don't know. Something stirs inside you.
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.
