He was wearing a Detroit Lions cap and he stood under a Detroit Lions banner. He was still wearing his Detroit Lions pants."Had you ever played in the Silverdome before today?" a reporter asked."No," he said."Had you ever been in the Silverdome?""No.""Had you ever been in Detroit?""No."
CALGARY, Alberta -- We are watching the sleds come down the hill. The sun is warm. Our feet are in mud."Who's winning?" someone asks."Who cares?" comes our answer.We are not interested in winners in this Olympic two-man bobsled competition. We know the winners will be East German or Soviet, because they are winning everything else.Nor are we interested in the U.S. team, because every time we turn around, someone on the U.S. team is suing someone else on the U.S. team. Besides, the Americans are in 24th place.
ATLANTA -- He has the eyes of an eagle and the touch of a card shark. And with his collegiate career on the line Sunday afternoon, he left the floor in three-point territory, bent the forearm, flicked the wrist, waved good-bye with the fingers -- somebody get a video camera, this is beautiful -- and the ball arched in glorious perfection, dropping through the net the way a pearl might drop through water.Swish!We're outta here.
LAS VEGAS -- Well, the people "in the know" out here are saying Michael Spinks will get his head taken off tonight. They liken the fight to an ant and a boulder. The ant moves around, real quick-like, and, oh, my, see how fast it scurries, how quickly it darts, left, then right, and yes, oh yes, it sure is quick, and then plop! the boulder squashes it dead.The boulder is Larry Holmes. But you probably figured that out.
I was fascinated last week by accusations by the Lions that several Green Bay Packers were stealing signals from the sidelines. Not that I don't believe them. It's just that, well, how on Earth can you do that? And who has the time?PLAYER 1: They're going with the red dog, deep six, drop four.PLAYER 2: Yeah. Better signal into our quarterback.PLAYER 1: Right. Let's see. Red dog, that's the closed fist isn't it? And deep six, that's a wipe of the forehead. Or wait. Is the forehead for a blitz, or --QUARTERBACK: Hut!See what I mean?
NEW YORK -- What could possibly be left in this World Series? What could possibly equal the bottom of the 10th, the two-out drama, the hitting, the pitching, the rain? The rain? What could be left in this made-for-TV-deal, except . . .But of course.
CHAMPAIGN, Ill. -- Jeff George, the celebrated Illinois quarterback, had his hands on his hips. He fidgeted with his helmet strap. "Damn," he seemed to say, pacing up and down, "this is my time." It was the final seven minutes. He was the miracle man. The sold-out crowd was waiting breathlessly for his magic, his typical rally to victory. But he was a prisoner of the sideline.
NEW ORLEANS -- Oooh, Freddie. A free throw? How mortal. How sadly mortal. Time running out, Nevada-Las Vegas is losing, about to be sent down the NCAA mountain, and suddenly, the guy switches on, what he throws up is going in -- and we're talking rainbows from space here --so the crowd goes nuts, like a thousand hot crap tables, and look out, UNLV is coming back at Indiana, straight for the jugular.
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.
