Having not seen Grant Hill in a few months, I go to Pistons practice with a twinge of concern. Off-seasons, I believe, are when egos take root. Players go home to friends and family. They hang out in clubs and parties. They hear the sycophants saying, "Man, you should be making more money . . ." or "How come you're not bigger than such-and-such? He doesn't have half your talent . . ."They come back with an attitude. A chip on their shoulders. During the season, there is barely time for playing, sleeping, and catching the next plane; it's the off-seasons when monsters are hatched.
BALTIMORE -- He arrived for his last game hours before the first pitch, early Sunday morning, as the fog was breaking up and most people were still in church. He removed his clothes in stages, hanging up his gray sports coat, followed by the tie and the shoes. He pulled his baseball shirt over his dark slacks and socks, and he sat down that way, half-man, half- manager, munching a doughnut and holding the omnipresent cup of black coffee, part of the reason his hands now tremble like a nervous safecracker. The other reason is that he is 61 years old.
GOOD MORNING, class. The question today is simple: Which of the following is the greatest mystery of all?A) The riddle of the Sphinx.B) Stonehenge.C) Charlie Batch's thumb.The answer is C, Charlie Batch's thumb. Not because it is as complex as the Sphinx or Stonehenge. In fact, Charlie's thumb is pretty simple. It's attached to his hand, like the rest of our thumbs. He can stick it out if he wants to hitchhike. He can wiggle it, bend it, he can jam it in his nose.
Just under a year ago, we took a talented young golfer and turned him into a god. Fortunately, for Tiger Woods, he has turned himself back into a man.Unfortunately, for Tiger Woods, he's had to do it by losing.That's right. Tiger loses. He loses close. He loses far. He loses a playoff. He loses by collapsing on the final day. He even loses, once, by missing the cut.
GREEN BAY, Wis. -- This was all you needed to see, safety Ron Rice, pointing at the sky. "The sun! It was the sun!" he screamed, as if the refs should throw a flag on Mother Nature.
First, I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican. I vote for people, not parties.Second, I am neither a liberal nor a conservative. I worry about people, not ideology.Third, I am not a gun owner.Ah. Changes things, doesn't it? I was safe on the first two, a common-sense type of guy. But as soon as I wrote that third item, some of you said, "Friend," and others said, "Enemy."
TEMPE, Ariz. -- Jerry Jones is talking to me, something about revenue sharing or marketing ideas, but it isn't the conversation that holds me, it's his look. His eyes are wide, bigger than they need to be, his mouth is curled up in the corners as he speaks. His neck is tight above his expensive white shirt collar, his complexion is ruddy, and, to me, he seems slightly crazed, his words appear to fly from his own mouth straight into his ears, fueling him with energy. He enjoys listening to himself.
Here's the scene: The door opens and a recruiter walks in. He sits down with the high school basketball star. Says he wants the kid to play for his team. Says the kid might only have to stay a year or two before he's ready for the NBA. And don't worry about attending math class, it won't be necessary.Then the recruiter reaches into his bag and takes out ... a checkbook.At this point, you're thinking the NCAA bursts down the door with its surveillance camera and yells, "FREEZE!"
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.
