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.
WIMBLEDON, England -- In tennis, there are always two big stories: the reigning champions, and the young turks on the horizon. In case you missed it, the horizon these days is dwarfed by a pair of tall, gangly, American teenaged sisters named Venus and Serena Williams. They hover like twin tornadoes. Both are unorthodox, fast, wickedly powerful with their ground strokes, and as promising as a tooth that bursts through the skin.
And now for the Lions' newest weapon:Prayer."The good Lord did it," said Luther Ellis."I know I found religion," said Brett Perriman."Somebody wanted us to have a break," said Van Malone.What they were talking about, of course, was the last play of Sunday's game, a play that had "fade to black" written all over it. The Seattle Seahawks were lined up for a very makable 42-yard field goal that would have sent the Lions to their fifth straight loss, swallowed their meager playoff hopes, and assured them a spot in the Waste Of Talent Hall of Fame.
EAST LANSING -- In the closing seconds of Tuesday's hissing defeat, several Michigan State fans began to razz Purdue's bald-headed senior forward, Cuonzo Martin."Hey, Cuonzo, how's it feel to be ranked 25th in the country?""Hey, Cuonzo. Nice haircut.""CBA! CBA!"Martin, hands on hips, breathing hard from the 12 points he scored in the last six minutes, rolled his eyes and pushed his lips together. He blew them a kiss. Mmmwah! A winner's revenge.
DAYTON, Ohio -- The hamburgers are on the grill, and the margaritas are flowing like small green waterfalls."GO JAYHAWKS!" someone slurps."GO HILLTOPPERS!" screams another."Pardon me," I mumble. "'Scuse me. . . . Pardon me. . . . "I make my way through the tailgating parties like a police officer assigned to Beach Blanket Bingo. A van full of students is booming rock music and singing along. Suddenly, in the middle of the song, someone stops and yells "HOW ABOUT THEM HOGS?""WHOOOEEE!" they answer. "HOGS, HOGS, HOGS, HOG--"
What do Isiah Thomas, Barry Sanders and Juwan Howard have in common? All have been celebrated as "good guys." All have been hailed as humble star athletes who have their priorities straight.And all have fathered children out of wedlock.I bring them up only to prove that the current Sports Illustrated cover story, "Where's Daddy?" about paternity and athletes, is not some device to sell magazines, and not some blown-up tale about a few sex-crazed deviants. It's as real a problem as there is in sports, and it says a lot about who we are and what we choose to admire.
The people who run sports at the University of Michigan insist their basketball coaching job is a juicy plum, a sparkling treasure, a gem of a position that the best coaches in the business would lunge at if given the chance.The funny thing is, they never get the chance.
Like many people, I have trouble picking a favorite movie, a favorite food or a favorite song. But I have always been able to pick a favorite possession:My passport.It has long been at the top of my list, ever since I got my first one as a teenager on a trip to Paris. I had never been overseas before, and at the airport, when I slid my passport under the glass, the French officer said, "Vous ete Americain?"And I said, "Oui."And he stamped my entrance to his country.
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.
