NEW YORK -- There is, as I write this, the sound of rain drumming the pavement of Seventh Avenue. Taxicab headlights move quietly through the city night. The hotel room window is open, late October is blowing in, and I know this. They are out there somewhere, the baseball ghosts, dancing in the water.
MIAMI -- Cincinnati Bengals linebacker Reggie Williams has one of the most interesting backgrounds among Super Bowl players.Williams, who grew up in Flint and went to Flint Southwestern High, is a Cincinnati city councilman, holds a psychology degree from Dartmouth, was elected NFL Man of the Year in 1986, and attended a state dinner at the White House last year. He has received numerous awards for work with charities and the community.That made Williams, 34, a popular subject for reporters during interviews this week. Some of his comments:
HONOLULU -- Are you sitting down? Good. Let me break your heart.Let me introduce you to your daydream, your fantasy, the thing you should have done when you were 18 years old and you realize only now, as you shovel three feet of snow from around your Plymouth Horizon.Let me give you Joe Piccola.Linebacker, University of Hawaii."Hi," he said, "how ya doin'?"
After a while, in any good marriage, you learn to read each other's faces. You can sense anger, glee, disappointment. So it was that Isiah Thomas, who has been professionally married to his coach, Chuck Daly, for the last five years, sat on the curb of a parking lot Sunday afternoon, acting out all of Daly's courtside expressions."There's this one," he said, tugging on an imaginary coat lapel, "and that means, 'Calm down, relax, slow it up.'
SOMEWHERE IN THE SKY . . . -- "So what do you think tonight?" I ask the man sitting to my left. "Pistons by eight? Celtics by eight? What do you think?""I think . . . " he says.I know what he thinks. He thinks Boston is on a roll after its last win. He thinks Boston will win tonight. But I say no. I say tonight is the Pistons' night. I say Silverdome mystique prevails. I say tonight's star will be . . . John Salley. Yeah. He hasn't had a night yet. John Salley's night. Tonight."Well?" I repeat. "What do you think?""I . . . uh . . . I don't think--"
TORONTO -- So what if his front teeth were missing? He was smiling as wide as an open net and he was answering the same question a hundred times -- "Describe the goal!" "What happened on the goal?" -- and suddenly a teammate's voice broke through the steamy locker room and stopped the interviews in mid- sentence."PROBY! PROBY!" yelled Joe Kocur."YEAH?""YOUR FIRST PLAYOFF GOAL?""YEAH.""HERE. CATCH."
The glove was gone. It was just gone. Everything else happening around Chet Lemon, all the players shaking hands and welcoming each other back, it didn't matter. Because the glove was gone."Have you seen it?" he asked.The equipment man said no."I thought I left it here," he said.The equipment man said no.
ST. LOUIS -- Put down those bats and gloves. Drop those box scores. Just for today we're talking mood. Color. Flavor. For all you unfortunate souls who can't be here at this All-Muh-ZU- rah World Series, and you don't know what you're missing -- but then, how could you know what you're missing? How could anyone know what they're missing, come to think of it? -- I am here to capture some of the sights and sounds and smells. A Day in the Life of an I-70 Classic. Spanning the streets. Leaving no Bud can unturned. The thrill of the foam, the agony of the hangover.
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.
