By now, most people have formed some sort of opinion on Jim Wacker.Wacker is the coach at Texas Christian University who last week dismissed six of his football players -- including a Heisman Trophy candidate running back -- when he discovered they were accepting money from wealthy alumni.Accepting such money violates NCAA rules.Some call Wacker a hero. Some call him an idiot.Some say he showed courage and morality. Some say he simply beat the NCAA to the punch.And many are missing the point entirely.
LAKELAND, Fla. -- The subject was fear, and Kirk Gibson was coming up empty."Heights?" I asked."Nah," he said."The dark?" I asked."Nah," he said."Fast cars?"He just laughed at that one."Snakes? Scorpions?"He paused for a second. "Well, I don't like snakes," he said, "but if I saw one, I'd just . . . kill it."
FOXBORO, Mass. -- "That was the play that beat us, man. Right there. That play was the game."Thirty minutes after the Lions' devastating 23-6 loss to New England Sunday, free safety Demetrious Johnson still was fuming over his interception return for a touchdown that was called back by the officials. More than any other single play, it determined the fortunes of this game.It was late in the third quarter, Patriots ball second-and- eight from their 38. Quarterback Tony Eason dropped back to pass, and Johnson recognized the play as a tight-end option route.
I must say I feel pretty good this morning, considering I've been dead for six months.How I came to pass is an unlikely story. It began a few days ago, when I received a note from a reader named Theda Everett. She wrote:"What is going on here? I just saw the movie 'The Rosary Murders' and in one scene your name is listed in the obituary column. I was horrified and upset . . . Can you share a story about it please?"
You laughed. You scoffed. You rolled up the newspaper and stuffed it in the cat's litter box.And then the Lions beat Dallas -- just as I predicted one week ago -- and you felt pretty bad, didn't you? Really ashamed. You wanted to send me flowers, but you didn't know the address. It's OK. All is forgiven. Really. Don't worry about it. It's all right. No problem.321 W. Lafayette, Detroit, Mich.OK. Here we go again . . .
"Sometimes bad is bad"-- Huey LewisRicky Mahorn is alone, sitting in front of his locker, eating pistachio nuts."Do you have a minute?" he is asked."Gotta sauna, then leave," he mumbles."Um . . . is that a no?""You can take it as a no," he says, sneering, "or you can take it as a maybe."The visitor says he'll take it as a no, and leaves.
BOSTON -- There was fever. In the streets, in the shops, in the dirty hallways of Fenway Park and in the Red Sox clubhouse, where reporters darted like waterbugs, player to player, gathering news for the third game of the World Series. The Sox had won the first two in New York. Now they were home. The town was juiced. The town was electric. There was fever everywhere.Except here, in the lazy slouch of Wade Boggs, who stood alone by the bat rack, sifting through the lumber, looking for the handles marked "26."His number."What are you doing?" someone asked.
Isn't life funny, Mark Messner thought. He held a spoonful of malted shake up to his father's lips, which were black and peeling, burned from the chemotherapy. "Here you go, Dad," he said. His father rolled his eyes and made a "mmm" sound, like a child. Mark smiled, pulled the spoon out and dug it back into the cup.
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.
