Detroit Free Press

CHICAGO -- This is the face of a man confused. This is the face of man of being spun around like laundry. This is my face."Heck of a game last night," someone says."Uh . . . yeah," I answer, quickly flipping open my notepad, "excellent forechecking.""In the baseball game?" he says.Oh. Wrong pad. I sigh. This has been going on all week. You say baseball, I say hockey. I say baseball, you say hockey.

Forgive me. This is not about sports. I promised myself nearly two years ago that if this moment ever arrived and this crazy JOA was approved, I would write this column.It was a Tuesday. I went down to a coffee shop and sat with Dave Lawrence, who, as most of you know, is publisher of the Free Press. He said he had a favor to ask.

BOSTON -- I know you should try to find the up-side in everything. But the word that Pistons' GM Jack McCloskey might be moving on to busier, if not greener, pastures in New York City doesn't seem, at first glance, to have a lot of positive implications for the Pistons.

PAMPLONA, Spain -- They were running toward us, hundreds of men, their faces filled with horror because the bulls were right behind them. I looked anxiously at Pablo, my Spanish guide, whom I had met just hours before in the drunken streets of Pamplona. He had promised me, in broken English: "You run with me, you no die."It was a comforting thought.And suddenly we took off. Somebody screamed. A man next to me went down and was trampled. I glanced to my right and saw a black bull just three feet away. "This is it, this is it, this is it," I heard myself say. . . .

CALGARY, Alberta -- It was over before the second guy even skated. You knew that watching Brian Boitano Saturday night, knew it when, in the middle of the final cyclone twist of a brilliant routine, he jerked his head skyward with a smile that said it was all worth it, all the wait, all the work, everything, because the gold medal was coming, it was just a matter of time.

LAKELAND, Fla. -- And now, for the national anthem. Everyone stood up. The man inside the Marchant Stadium press box pushed the button for the pre-recorded tape. Music, maestro . . . "Ohhh, say can yooourrp---"And silence.The tape was dead. The speakers were blown. And 6,288 people were standing in the Florida sunshine craning their necks to see what was going on.Welcome to baseball, 1986.

LAKELAND, Fla. -- I know it is early. I know spring training is still in diapers. But I am going to make a prediction.I predict Dave LaPoint will become the best quote on the Tigers by midseason.Now, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, a "good quote" is someone who, after getting bombed for 17 runs in three innings, does not sit by his locker and say, "I dunno wha' happen' (burp)."Nor is a good quote someone who, after getting bombed for 17 runs in three innings, says, "Get that microphone out of my face before I chew your arm down to the veins."

People in New York are all abuzz about the amazing odyssey of Julie Ridge. Ridge, a professional actress, is swimming around Manhattan -- 28 miles up and down the Hudson and East Rivers -- once a day for six days.On the seventh day she shall rest.The event is billed as a "sports spectacular." But I don't know. I figure if God meant for woman to swim 28 miles he would have given her fins, or at least put some sharks behind her.Besides, as most New Yorkers can tell you, the East River is not something you just go diving into.