ATLANTA -- The coach wakes up before the alarm clock. He rubs his eyes. It's another hotel room ceiling, and his very first thoughts are: "Where are we? Who are we playing?"It's like this every morning on the road. But this is a big morning, the morning of the opening playoff game for his Detroit Pistons. The NBA playoffs are a reward of sorts -- the reason you endure seven months of coffee-and-heartburn breakfasts in Indianapolis and Cleveland and Houston. The games will be won or lost by the athletes. But the coach is the first one up.
NEW ORLEANS -- It is all familiar. I have been here before. NFL banners hang from the rafters, and Dixieland music plays all day long. Fans are swarming through the lobby. Someone wants to sell me a T-shirt for $20. I say no, and head for the house phone. I have been here before. "Can I help you?" the hotel operator says."Don Shula's room, please.""I'm sorry," she says, "we have no Don Shula listed here."I am patient. These things happen. Especially on Super Bowl week. I have been here before."Please check again," I say.I wait.
For a moment there Sunday, I thought all of Tiger Stadium had died and been sent to eternity. The sun would set. The moon would rise. Then it would be winter. Then, the year 2000.And we would still be in the fourth inning.How long did that inning last? High school went by quicker. Tiger batter. Tiger batter. Tiger batter. I would like to explain what happened in clear, precise detail. I would like to, but I can't, because my scorecard looks like a treasure map drawn by a two-year-old. Who can't draw.
SEOUL, South Korea -- Hey. What are you doing on this page? Don't you know the Olympics are on TV? Hurry up! Get out of here! There's some important table tennis you're missing!OK.Now that they're gone.
NEW YORK -- AAAAYYEEEEEE!Welcome to the wacky world of -- LOOK OUT! -- Tim Wilkison, who likes to -- DUCK! -- try for every shot, no matter how -- YAAAH! -- far, no matter how -- BANZAI! -- impossible, no matter how -- COWABUNGA! -- out of reach.AWWW . . . FIDDLESTICKS!Fiddlesticks?Well, yes. He says "fiddlesticks." But only when he's angry. He also waves to the crowd, blows kisses to his wife, and wears a baseball cap. Not just when he's finished his tennis match, mind you. While he's playing.Every point.
Try to rememberA time in September When heavyweights Were oh, so mellow . . .LAS VEGAS -- You should have seen it. Larry Holmes, cracking jokes, looking like he was ready to go out for dinner, 25 minutes after he'd lost the heavyweight championship of the world.And Michael Spinks, the man who'd taken his title, giggling, showing his muscles, looking like he'd just taken his morning shower and was fresh for a day at the office.Fight?What fight?And that about says it.
WIMBLEDON, England -- The match had been going on forever. Back and forth. Ivan Lendl wins a game. Tim Mayotte wins a game. People shifted nervously in their seats. How long already? Two hours? Three hours? Back and forth."It goes to a tie-breaker, right?" someone whispered when the score went to 5-5 in the fifth set."They don't play those at Wimbledon," someone answered.
The ball came back. It just came back. It wasn't supposed to come back. It never came back before. Usually, when a punter punts, the ball goes somewhere -- anywhere -- up, out, away, vertically, longitudinally. Somewhere.This one came back.
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.
