SAN FRANCISCO -- Well, I'm sure the Denver Broncos were very happy to make it back to the Super Bowl. But had their AFC championship been played after the NFC title game, instead of before it, they might have changed their minds. They might have told Cleveland, "Listen, uh, you guys go instead, OK? We have a dental appointment."
TUCSON, Ariz. -- Less than five minutes into Tournament II, the Michigan Wolverines saw all they needed to see. Jalen Rose had the ball on the perimeter. He should have dumped it inside. Instead, he pulled up and fired a long, long three-point try. It missed. A mistake. No matter. Juwan Howard got the rebound, and out it came to Jimmy King. He also should have dumped it inside. Instead, he took a long, long three-point try from the baseline. It missed. A mistake. No matter. Juwan Howard got the rebound. Out it came.
CHICAGO -- What really hurts is this: I remember when Jim Harbaugh had pimples. I remember when he had long, shaggy hair. I remember when he first started playing quarterback for the Michigan Wolverines. And the time he broke his arm in his sophomore season and was lying in a hospital bed when Bo Schembechler came to visit. "Don't forget me, coach," he sobbed.I remember when Harbaugh used to live off-campus, in a house with several of his teammates. I remember when he said things like, "I'm so jacked!"
The ball was passed downcourt, and nine players followed it. They left the 10th player behind. He was on his knees, his massive palms holding his weight, his head down, facing the floor. His eyes were tight with pain. He held there for a moment, then slowly began to crawl, inch at a time, inch at a time. He wanted desperately to get off the court, a car trying to cross the line on fumes. Inch at a time . . .
Usually at this time of year, I engage in a lively debate with fellow columnist Mike Downey, who is a wonderful guy in every way except that he lives and works in Los Angeles, which makes him a ninny.
DALLAS -- The last shot was an air ball by Jalen Rose, which, given the circumstances, was appropriate. The Michigan miracles were gone now, no more time, no more magic, nothing but the weak breeze of a missed jumper. The president of the United States was coming out to high-five the opposing team, and the arena was an Arkansas chorus, roaring for the Wolverines to get off the court. Ray Jackson ducked toward the bench area, trying to exit the fastest way, but a security man stopped him with an epitaph for the Michigan season: You can't go out the way you came in.
Here was my first clue that things had changed down at Tiger Stadium: I heard a vendor recite poetry."Don't be shy, don't walk bytill you try our roast beef on rye. . . . "His name was Rasean Reeves, a 19-year-old from Detroit, he was smiling while he worked -- maybe that was my first clue, come to think of it -- and he was working in something called the Ball Park Deli, which was in something called Tiger Plaza, which is a giant food court on what used to be the players' parking lot. Now Rasean had a new poem."Fill your belly,
Someone once told me Isiah Thomas planned to run for mayor. Why not? He loved power, he had ambition, and at the time -- this was a few years ago -- he probably had the votes. He was, without question, the most popular athlete in Detroit since Gordie Howe. Billy Sims and Mark Fidrych were big stars, but they never delivered championships. Thomas (Hit Man) Hearns made a name for himself, but not a personality.
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.
