So this is how you make history. You wait until after the midnight hour, double overtime, when the voices are gone and even the sweat glands are exhausted, then send a young Russian -- whose last name is easier to pronounce than his first -- charging down the ice, have him wind up and fire and . . . bingo! With a game so exhausting it took two days to play, the Detroit Red Wings finally jumped the moat and are outside the castle, banging on the door with an octopus.Knock, knock, Stanley.Guess who's coming for dinner?
Although I live in the Midwest, I try to keep up with what's happening on the coasts. You can bet if a hot trend develops in New York or Los Angeles, a few years later we are mimicking it here in the heartland.For example, in the '70s, we didn't know what therapy was, and by the '80s, everyone had a shrink. Just like LA.Or remember a few years ago, when you could buy bagels only in supermarkets, and now you can't drive half a mile without a bagel shop that sells 15 flavors. Just like New York.
NAGANO, Japan -- "Come, Alberto, we take walk.""Si, Mitchi," Alberto Tomba says. "We take walk." I pat him gently on his shoulder, and we move along the mountain path, the cold morning wind shaking snowflakes from the trees."Vino, Alberto?" I say, taking a flask from my satchel."No, Mitchi, grazie," he says."Panna?" I say, taking a roll from my pouch."No, Mitchi, grazie.""Dolce?" I say, offering a candy bar."No, Mitchi." He pats his growing stomach. "I am still in training, si?"
Rrrring."Hello, and thanks for calling The Sports World. For owners, press 1. For athletes, press 2-"Beep."Welcome to the Sports World Athletes Center. To speak to an athlete, press 1."Beep."Please select the type of athlete to whom you'd like to speak. For athletes convicted of sexual assault, press 1. For others, press 2."Beep."For athletes convicted of weapons possession, press 1. For others, press 2."Beep."For athletes convicted of rape, arson or other crimes, press 1. For athletes with no convictions, press 2."
"Right now, I'm in awe of myself." -- Mark McGwire, after Sunday's gameThat was no home run, that was an exclamation point.Mark McGwire's final rocket shot of the season -- which launched on the last Sunday in September, traveled more than 370 feet, and landed in a leftfield box at Busch Stadium, plopping into a group of partying lab researchers -- was more than McGwire's 70th of the year. It was more than the all-time record. It was more than nine better than Roger Maris, whose mark they said might never be broken.
It is not my place -- as a man who needs a month to grow a five-o'clock shadow -- to ask why Red Wings players are suddenly sporting the same facial hair. But I'll do it anyhow. Someone has to. I mean, if everyone in your office suddenly came to work looking like Magic Johnson, you'd ask, "What's going on?" Wouldn't you?So what's going on?"I don't know," says Aaron Ward, rubbing his mustache. "I just grew mine because you're supposed to.""Don't ask me," says Darren McCarty, scratching his beard. "I don't know who started it."
NEWS ITEM: Kobe Bryant, a 17-year-old high school basketball player, announced last week that he would skip college and immediately enter the NBA draft. He follows 19-year-old Kevin Garnett, who did the same thing last year. Many worry that the pattern will continue, and that college may one day be seen as a meaningless step in a pro sports career. "How much younger can it get?" one coach wondered . . . LOS ANGELES, May 5, 2014 -- Six-year-old Joey (Slamma) Jamma called a press conference to announce that he was skipping elementary school and jumping straight to the NBA draft.
We lost a good man last weekend. His death was sudden. It shocked those who loved him. When he finally was laid to rest, it was hard to believe how many people paid tribute.I am not talking about John F. Kennedy Jr., although you probably thought I was. Such is the state of American culture that even death can be usurped by the rich and famous.No, the man I am talking about was not a Kennedy. He was never dubbed "America's Prince." He was neither famous nor Adonis-like. He never Rollerbladed through Central Park.
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.
