This is the second of five excerpts from "Bo" by Michigan football coach Bo Schembechler, co-authored with Free Press columnist Mitch Albom. Today's excerpt, "Woody and Me," deals with Bo's relationship with Woody Hayes.I loved Woody Hayes. I am not ashamed to say it. In the 37 years I knew him, he coached me, humbled me, employed me, angered me and taught me more about the game than anyone could. I guess I was about as close to him as anyone, but to the day he died, I never considered myself his equal.
The fans got up early. They drove for miles in the snow. They marched through the stadium turnstiles.They had come for a brush with greatness.Members of the media loaded their tape recorders. They sharpened their pencils. They filled the press box with excited whispers.They had come for a brush with greatness.The Lions pulled on their helmets. They tucked in their blue and silver jerseys. They trotted out through the Silverdome tunnel.They had come for a brush with greatness.
The fans got up early. They drove for miles in the snow. They marched through the stadium turnstiles.They had come for a brush with greatness.Members of the media loaded their tape recorders. They sharpened their pencils. They filled the press box with excited whispers.They had come for a brush with greatness.The Lions pulled on their helmets. They tucked in their blue and silver jerseys. They trotted out through the Silverdome tunnel.They had come for a brush with greatness.
MUIRFIELD, Scotland -- He was inch-deep in wet sand, swinging in a way that did not fit him at all. One stroke, two strokes. The ball barely moved. Three strokes. Four strokes. The ball curled back into the dent of his footprint. Five strokes. Five strokes? How crazy was this? Arnold Palmer, one of the greatest names in the history of golf, was swinging himself right out of this British Open, without ever leaving the sand trap.
MUIRFIELD, Scotland -- He was inch-deep in wet sand, swinging in a way that did not fit him at all. One stroke, two strokes. The ball barely moved. Three strokes. Four strokes. The ball curled back into the dent of his footprint. Five strokes. Five strokes? How crazy was this? Arnold Palmer, one of the greatest names in the history of golf, was swinging himself right out of this British Open, without ever leaving the sand trap.
LAKELAND, Fla. -- Where have I been?A) At Adrian Dantley's house, cleaning up.B) On vacation.C) With Salman Rushdie.If you guessed (A) you would be wrong. If you guessed (C) you would also be wrong, but you get credit for imagination. If you guessed (B) -- "On vacation" -- aha! You were reading the newspaper in my absence!And you would also be wrong.
SEOUL, South Korea -- She walked along the corridors of the Olympic Stadium, alone, unrecognized, her calf muscle still throbbing from the race."I think I go around here," said Mary Decker Slaney, pointing to a concrete post. "No . . . wait. It's the other side. Oh geez."No one stopped her. No one recognized her. Were this Los Angeles, 1984, she would be unsafe in these crowded halls, she would be mobbed, either by fans or by reporters.
MIAMI -- This is a story about a star who is now a substitute, a party animal who now gets up early, a playboy who is now engaged. In other words, this is a story about growing up, something Cris Collinsworth never thought he'd be good at."You should see me now, I'm like the old man on the team," he says, shrugging his lean -- and nearly 30 year-old -- shoulders. "I get my kicks vicariously these days. I advise the younger players what lines to use on women. Like 'This one used to work for me. Try it.' "He laughs. "They do OK, too."
So tonight the Tigers begin their final series of 1989, in New York City, a perfect cemetery for a garbage season. Say good-bye to this year's model. Hopefully, we'll never see it again.I paid my respects Wednesday night, the final home game. The atmosphere in the clubhouse was not morbid. It was more like a huge sigh of relief, the kind where you wipe your brow and tap your coat pocket to make sure you haven't lost your plane ticket home.
LAKELAND, Fla. -- Where have I been?A) At Adrian Dantley's house, cleaning up.B) On vacation.C) With Salman Rushdie.If you guessed (A) you would be wrong. If you guessed (C) you would also be wrong, but you get credit for imagination. If you guessed (B) -- "On vacation" -- aha! You were reading the newspaper in my absence!And you would also be wrong.
SEOUL, South Korea -- She walked along the corridors of the Olympic Stadium, alone, unrecognized, her calf muscle still throbbing from the race."I think I go around here," said Mary Decker Slaney, pointing to a concrete post. "No . . . wait. It's the other side. Oh geez."No one stopped her. No one recognized her. Were this Los Angeles, 1984, she would be unsafe in these crowded halls, she would be mobbed, either by fans or by reporters.
MIAMI -- This is a story about a star who is now a substitute, a party animal who now gets up early, a playboy who is now engaged. In other words, this is a story about growing up, something Cris Collinsworth never thought he'd be good at."You should see me now, I'm like the old man on the team," he says, shrugging his lean -- and nearly 30 year-old -- shoulders. "I get my kicks vicariously these days. I advise the younger players what lines to use on women. Like 'This one used to work for me. Try it.' "He laughs. "They do OK, too."
