SEOUL, South Korea -- They never found the men who killed Damon Hembrick. Whoever did it robbed him and stabbed him and threw his body in the street in front of the McDonald's where he was working. And they got away. This was two years ago, they are still out there somewhere, and Anthony Hembrick, Damon's older brother, thinks about them all the time, even here, at the Olympic Games.
"Hey, if I were somebody else, looking at me? I'd think I was an a------, too."-- Bill LaimbeerBOSTON -- Wait. Don't tell me. You hate his guts. He's a stiff, a boor, a spoiled brat, an actor, a loudmouth; he can't jump, he can't block shots, he runs like a pregnant deer, his nose is pointy, and, when he high-fives, it looks like party time at nerd training camp."Who cares?" says Bill Laimbeer, sitting across the breakfast table. He reaches over with one of those long arms. "I'm gonna have some of your grapes. Thanks."
TEMPE, Ariz. -- Well, it didn't take long. The first Impossible To Answer Sports Question of 1986 came in the late afternoon of January 1, when the final gun went off here at the Fiesta Bowl.Did Michigan win it? Or did Nebraska lose it?I figure you can make a case for either side. And you will. Depending on what colors you prefer in your sweaters, blue or red.This was one of those games that people argue about in the car ride home, each one countering the other with a seemingly valid point, until they all go hoarse and have to turn on the radio.
SOUTH BEND, Ind. -- All afternoon, the only thing that hung in their way was the scoreboard. They were clobbering the national champions, hurting them, leaving them dizzy. Michigan State had Notre Dame breathless and confused; the Spartans had them every which way but beaten. The scoreboard. The damn scoreboard. If only they could pound that thing, tackle it, knock it silly until it coughed up some points the way the Fighting Irish had been coughing up the football.
Can I tell you something about the NFL draft? It starts early. Can I tell you something about the NHL playoffs? They end late. So only a complete fool would try to cover the latter in Canada and the former in the United States within an eight-hour span, right? Only an absolute idiot?Hey. I had a plan.
CHAMPAIGN, Ill. -- There were four seconds left; the score was tied and Andy Moeller, blood smeared across his uniform, was rocking back and forth on his feet, just trying to time his leap.A piece. That's all he wanted. Just a piece of the football. He knew this field goal try by Illinois would be the last play of the game.A piece. Just a piece.The crowd of 76,000 sucked in its breath. Everything was riding on the kick. For Illinois. For Michigan. And for Andy Moeller and his father, Gary -- the Wolverines' defensive coordinator -- who had ties to both.
Adrian Dantley came spinning out of yet another basket, a beautiful fast break, and he got the foul, the crowd went wild, and he whirled toward the Detroit bench on bended knee, made a fist, and ooooh, ooooh, was he actually going to . . . smile? Well. Almost. What do you want? Miracles? A smile from Master Scowl was the only thing missing in this grab bag of gestures that was Detroit's 122-104 playoff win at the Silverdome.
CHAMPAIGN, Ill. -- Jeff George, the Illinois quarterback, fidgeted with his helmet strap. This was his time, wasn't it? The final seven minutes. He was the miracle man, the can-do kid. He does more with a football in the closing minutes than some teams do all afternoon. Hands on hips. Look up. Look down. It was his time.
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.
