DENVER -- The ugly thud could be heard in the rafters. It was Brendan Shanahan's head smashing into glass. The bone cut the skin. The blood surged down his face. It ran in map-like lines, down his cheeks, chin and neck, trickling into a thin red river that dripped into the neckline of his jersey.The fans jeered. The players cursed. The refs blew the whistle and dived into the scrum.Game on.
LADIES AND gentlemen, kiss your sports fan good-bye.Check back in a week. Follow the trail of empty pop cans and pizza boxes. Listen for the sounds of a whimpering voice, hoarse from screaming. Sniff the aroma of unwashed jeans, dirty socks and ...OK, forget the sniffing part.You get the idea. We are about to enter the mother lode of sports hysteria. Seven days of playoffs without a break. Red Wings. Pistons. Red Wings. Pistons.Two sports. Two teams. Two playoff series.And -- get this -- alternate nights!
LET'S TRY to figure how far the Pistons will go in the playoffs.First let's try to figure whom they'll play in the playoffs.Well, before that, let's try to figure whether they'll make the playoffs.Maybe we should figure out the playoffs.You see the problem.
GRANDPA'S HOUSE, THE YEAR 2035 -- The old man put his grandson on his knee and opened a dusty scrapbook."Who's that, Grandpa?" the child asked."That's the greatest quarterback I ever saw," the old man said. "His name was John Elway.""Where's his rocket booster?"
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.