KANSAS CITY -- They can talk MVP. They can talk Cy Young. But there are a few other awards to come out of this 1985 World Series that should not be overlooked. A little less well known, maybe, but just as cherished by the recipients. Sort of.May we have the envelopes, please?THE MISTER ROGERS "WOULD YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?" AWARD: To Cardinals pitcher John Tudor, who, when asked by a reporter why he didn't seem to be enjoying his Game 5 victory, replied, "Do you want me to punch you in the mouth? Would that make you happy?"
IONIA -- He didn't see the bodies. Not when he arrived. Just the car, a 1972 Chevy Malibu, parked right where the phone call said it was, on a tractor path just off Frank Road. State Trooper Jim Rogers got out of his squad car and sighed. "Probably some guy fell asleep," he figured. Happens all the time. It was, after all, Saturday morning, and most people don't leave their vehicles overnight in a deserted field with the motor running.
MIAMI -- You expect, now and then, to run smack into your conscience. You just don't expect it to happen at the Super Bowl. A game. A gunshot. And today we must ask ourselves what America is all about.
SEOUL, South Korea -- Before he decided to become the best hurdler in the history of the world, Edwin Moses had plans to be a doctor. Can you imagine that?
NEW YORK -- No fair! The words screamed inside Oil Can Boyd's head, pounding off the sides of his skull, even as he pulled his cap over his eyes and tried to disappear. No fair! Forget the team, forget the Big Picture. Man is an animal that, when cornered, thinks first of his own survival. When John McNamara stood at the top of the hotel escalator Sunday night and told Boyd, "I'm going with Bruce Hurst" -- the Can would not start the last game of the World Series -- Boyd did only what comes naturally. He began to cry.
LOS ANGELES -- It was less than an hour after Boston beat Detroit for the Eastern Conference title that the ugly whispers started in the press room. "Did you hear? . . . " they began."Isiah Thomas said what? . . . ""Dennis Rodman said what? . . ." You could feel it swell like an ocean wave. Rodman had commented in the losers' locker room about Larry Bird's being "overrated" because he was white. And Thomas, when asked, had said he agreed. And that was enough.
The burning question of this NBA final, to me anyhow, is no longer who will win or when will they win but if they win -- the Pistons, that is -- how will Adrian Dantley celebrate? "I'll do something crazy," he told me a few days ago. And since then, these pictures keep running through my brain. Something crazy? Adrian Dantley? Like what? Will he kiss a fan? Will he moon the TV camera? Will he pull off his sneakers and run barefoot through the Silverdome?
Ahhh.Feels good.Toss me some suds, will ya?Yep. Here we are, neck-high in this tub full of champagne, me and my Southern literary agent, Mr. Bobby Will Getcha. Been here since Sunday. Just jumped in with all our clothes on. You do that kind of stuff when your team is undefeated. Like ours is.The Detroit Lions, I'm talking about.Un-deeee-feated. A perfect season.1-0.Hear that Miami? San Fran? Washington? A big fat zero in the loss column.Bet you guys wish you were us, huh?Tough.
There are some big shots in New York who have been trying to get Bo Schembechler to leave Ann Arbor, just for a few hours, to promote his new book on shows such as "Good Morning, America" and "Late Night with David Letterman.""I can't leave my team during football season," he says.End of conversation.Last year, George Bush personally called to ask for his support. One night, that's all. Schembechler told the future president: "I can't leave my team during football season."End of conversation.
LOS GATOS, Calif. -- His body is limp and covered with a blanket. His mouth moves, but there is no sound. His wife sits next to the bed, reading his lips."It began . . . when I was playing basketball . . . and I kept dropping the ball. . . . Then in the classroom . . . I would drop the . . . what was that, honey? Oh. . . . I would drop the chalk. . . . "
ATLANTIC CITY, N.J. -- Beneath his wool ski cap, Mike Tyson was sweating. The camera lights were hot. A hundred people were crammed in front of his table. Everyone was screaming."DID HE EVER HURT YOU?""WHEN DID YOU KNOW YOU HAD HIM?""WHO'S NEXT? WHO'S NEXT?"
