Not about race. Not about color. Not about image. Not about style. Brian Ellerbe is about to be fired as Michigan's basketball coach for two reasons and two reasons only. Wins and losses. The lack of the former and the preponderance of the latter.Never mind what some people are saying, that four years is not enough of a chance, that he is being unfairly judged, that because he is black, that the administration did not hand him the same things to work with as his predecessors.
Take a kid. A skinny, mixed-up kid. A kid who feels picked on, persecuted, bullied -- a kid who vows revenge.Now add a gun. A gun kept in his house, by his father, in a glass case. One morning, when whatever crazy, unloved portion of that kid's brain fires the wrong synapse, he takes that gun to school and opens fire, killing two classmates.Now take that same kid. But subtract the gun. He gets up that same morning and something snaps. But there is no firearm at hand. What does he do? Maybe he takes a knife? Or a brick? Or a can of spray paint?
Ask the average American sports fan, "Who's contending for the NBA scoring title?" he'll probably say, "Kobe, Iverson and that guard from Detroit."Welcome to Jerry Stackhouse's world, where the sign could read, "Be careful what you wish for." Nearly every NBA player dreams of being "The Man." Some even ruin careers over it.Jerry Stackhouse actually got it. Grant Hill went away. No big names were signed. And Stackhouse became The Man on the Pistons the way Eminem became The Man for musical controversy, the way Dr. Phil became The Man for relationship rescues.
This is a story about taking pride in your work, whether it's saving children or cleaning toilets -- or, in Willie Davis' case, both.Willie Davis is a janitor. Oh, you can call him a custodian, or a caretaker, or a sanitation engineer. You can call him the King of England if you want, he still takes a broom every day and cleans the dirtiest corners of Arthur Smith Junior High School in Alexandria, La.And when he's done sweeping, he mops. And he waxes the floors. He does the windows. He mows the lawn. He plucks the weeds. When he has to, he cleans the toilets.
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.
