PHILADELPHIA -- Thank heaven there's a hockey game tonight. If people here had to wait any longer, they might implode.I'm not talking about the normal Philadelphians. Normal Philadelphians might have a few other things in their lives, like jobs. The Philadelphians I'm talking about are the rabid fans who have nothing better to do but call into Philly sports talk radio -- or as it's known in the industry, Lawsuit Central.Now, it's true, most towns have some kind of sports talk radio station. Many sound like this:
Dead men tell no tales. And dead parents make no complaints. So it's impossible to know what Dorothy Mayfield would have thought about her daughter's acceptance to Harvard University.Or what she might have thought when Harvard changed its mind.It seems that her daughter's application -- which featured straight A's and glowing recommendations -- left out one alarming fact: The girl had murdered her mother four years earlier.Not exactly a small detail.
The year is almost up. I want a refund.I don't want money. I want time. I want back every minute wasted on subjects that were trivial, gossipy or just plain idiotic.Subjects on which I can't believe we wasted any breath at all. Things that dominated our newspapers and our TVs and, therefore, our conversations, like whether the Spice Girls have any talent.The answer is no. There. That took half-a-second. I want back anything over that.
HUT ONE: Finally, it's upon us, the annual Michigan- Michigan State game, where Spartans fans accuse Wolverines fans of being rich, spoiled, candy-panted dweebs, and Wolverines fans retort, "Run along, Sparty, time to chew your cud."* HUT TWO: In games like these, of course, the trash talk at the line of scrimmage can be very entertaining:
ST. LOUIS -- It was the perfect portrait to end this series. Brendan Shanahan scoring over a fallen Grant Fuhr, raising his fists as the red light went on. For so much of this first round, the pose was something opposite, Fuhr upright and strong, stonewalling the Red Wings, sending them away, their heads down, their pockets empty.
Chris Osgood was standing by his locker when I approached. He was sucking on a candy that smelled like a LifeSaver. Interesting choice of sweets, a LifeSaver, since that's what half this city seems to want to throw him after Wednesday night's loss.But here's a piece of news. He doesn't need it. Doesn't want it. And doesn't deserve it."How do you feel about what happened?" I asked."Ticked off," he said. "I was 85 seconds away from my best playoff series ever.""Does it make you want to play right now?"
The newspaper near his chair has a photo of a Boston baseball player who is smiling after pitching a shutout. Of all the diseases, I think to myself, Morrie gets one named after an athlete.You remember Lou Gehrig, I ask?"I remember him in the stadium, saying good-bye."So you remember the famous line."Which one?"Come on. Lou Gehrig. "Pride of the Yankees"? The speech that echoes over the loudspeakers?"Remind me," Morrie says. "Do the speech."
WIMBLEDON, England -- God has been very involved with sports lately -- at least if you believe the newspapers here."God Had A Hand In This!" read one London headline after England lost in overtime to Argentina in the World Cup."Hand of God, II!" read another tabloid.And a British journalist actually penned the following: "This was football the way God invented it ..."
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.
