By the time you read this, I will be home. At least I should be home. On a book tour, you never know. I might be stuck in a St. Louis radio station, between Oasis records.Which is not an exaggeration. There I was, out on tour for "Tuesdays With Morrie" -- which is a small, inspirational book about an old man who is dying talking to a young man about what's really important in life -- so naturally I was ushered into an FM alternative rock station, where a disc jockey introduced me by fading down the volume on -- I'm not kidding here -- the new Oasis single.
If you've ever wondered how much of sports is hype and how much is achievement, look no further than the man who said good-bye Saturday. He was the greatest athlete of our time. Quick. Do you know his name?He dominated his game like no one before, but his name is not Michael Jordan. He lasted a near eternity in his sport, but he is not Cal Ripken. He was the champion of the world, but he is not Muhammad Ali. He excelled in more than one discipline, but he is not Deion Sanders.
The newspaper near his chair has a photo of a Boston baseball player who is smiling after pitching a shutout. Of all the diseases, I think to myself, Morrie gets one named after an athlete.You remember Lou Gehrig, I ask?"I remember him in the stadium, saying good-bye."So you remember the famous line."Which one?"Come on. Lou Gehrig. "Pride of the Yankees"? The speech that echoes over the loudspeakers?"Remind me," Morrie says. "Do the speech."
Here's the scene: The door opens and a recruiter walks in. He sits down with the high school basketball star. Says he wants the kid to play for his team. Says the kid might only have to stay a year or two before he's ready for the NBA. And don't worry about attending math class, it won't be necessary.Then the recruiter reaches into his bag and takes out ... a checkbook.At this point, you're thinking the NCAA bursts down the door with its surveillance camera and yells, "FREEZE!"
They say bad news is best delivered through poetry. Actually, I just made that up. But pretending it is true, allow me to wax poetic after the Lions' depressing loss Sunday to the suddenly brown Tampa Bay Bucs.Barry, oh, Barry, oh,Wherefore art thou, Barry-o?We are now two weeks into the Lions' season, the season that was supposed to be the liberation of the Greatest-Halfback-Never-To-Have-A-Fullback, the season of the "organized" coaching staff, the season Sanders' awesome talent would be unleashed in its rightful power.
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.
