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Fans Should Bag Talk Of Trade, Not Their Heads

Fans Should Bag Talk Of Trade, Not Their Heads

The first thing I saw when I entered the Silverdome parking lot Sunday night was a Lions fan leaning against his car. He had a bag over his head.This was not an encouraging sign. As headgear goes, the bag rates low on the sports list, behind the rainbow wig, the big piece of cheese, and the beer cans with plastic sucking straws. Still, I had to wonder how many fans would be there at all -- including Mr. Baghead -- if Barry Sanders were not on the team.
What Happened To Our Neighbors?

What Happened To Our Neighbors?

Let me tell you about my neighbors.On one side, in a tri-level house, are Morty and Josie, who have two kids. Josie has big blond hair and wears frosted lipstick. Morty is the life of the party, always laughing and smoking a cigar.On the other side are Jay and Shirley and their three boys. The boys play football at the side of the house. Whenever they get any spare change, they put it in a cup in the kitchen so that one day they can buy a swimming pool.
And It Was All Over But The Shouting — By Ross

And It Was All Over But The Shouting — By Ross

PHILADELPHIA -- And then, the coach went ballistic."I'm ticked off!" croaked Bobby Ross after his football team's latest exercise in humiliation. "I get all the damn criticism -- people hammering me! I'm a good coach! I know what the heck's supposed to be done! And I'm not going to second-guess myself one damn time!"(Let's pause here to wipe the spittle from the microphone. Also to remove all children from the room. OK ...back to the tirade....)
It’S Election Day: For A Change, You Have The Power

It’S Election Day: For A Change, You Have The Power

News media reports indicate that apathy is at an all-time high in our country, and that small percentages of the voters are actually planning to go to the booths today. Six years ago, I wrote the following poem about apathy. The Free Press reran it before the 1996 presidential election. And it still rings true today on the cusp of another election.I heard a knock upon my doorAnd opened it to seeAll the poor around the worldLooking back at meIn tattered clothes and worn-out shoesWith families to feed,They held their hands out, hopefully,
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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.

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