"It is not the critic who counts. . . . The credit belongs to the man in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly . . . and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." -- Teddy Roosevelt
Like most Americans, I have been glued to my TV, watching the war in Iraq. My channel of choice has been CNN. After a while, I began to notice a name I hadn't heard before: Walter Rodgers.There it was again. Walter Rodgers. I wondered whether this was a general, or a strategist, or maybe a soldier exhibiting great bravery, given that his name -- Walter Rodgers! Walter Rodgers! -- was being tossed about with unabashed worship.
And his name is Chauncey.He was not the most famous guard on the floor Wednesday night. That distinction belonged to a guy named Kobe. You know Kobe? Best player in the NBA these days? Speaks Italian? Scores 40 points the way Sergei Fedorov skates a circle?Kobe was the famous one, the richer one, the Chosen One. He came out of high school and has been with one team ever since, the L.A. Lakers, winning three championship rings by his 24th birthday.
Tonight, on "60 Minutes," history will be made. An ex-president, Bill Clinton, and his old rival, ex-senator Bob Dole, will begin a stint as point-counterpoint debaters.Andy Warhol got it wrong. It's not fame everyone will have in the future; it's a chance to scream at someone on TV.The liberals already do it to the conservatives on CNN and Fox. Celebrities do it with Bill Maher on HBO. Ebert used to do it to Siskel, and now he does it to Roeper.
There are bonds you are born with, like your parents or siblings, and bonds you choose, like friends and lovers. Then there are the bonds that come along by accident, that somehow choose you, and draw you in like destiny.For Kris Draper, the Red Wings' oft-grinning forward, the bond began with a phone call. A teenage girl from Shepherd, he was told, had leukemia and was in the hospital. She was a huge Draper fan. Could he possibly call her?
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.
