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.
He was a breath of cool air in a stuffy closet. A splash of water in a sun-baked desert. Vinnie Johnson was doing something most of his Pistons teammates had suddenly found nearly impossible -- hitting his shots. Hitting? Try insisting. He would not take "no good" for an answer. He rose like destiny over any defender, in his face, in his skin, didn't matter how close, didn't matter if the guy ate onions and garlic for dinner. Vinnie wanted it. The Pistons needed it.Cook, baby.
10 predictions for Super Bowl XXIII:* Jack Sheppard, St. Petersburg Times: San Francisco, 28-17. "I don't think there's any way the Bengals can stop Roger Craig and the passing game at the same time."
BOSTON -- "BIRD STOLE THE BALL! BIRD STOLE THE BALL! BIRD STOLE THE . . . " The words echoed across the New England airwaves, across cable television stations, they splashed onto morning headlines and morning talk shows and they pierced the hearts of every Detroit Pistons fan alive.
OAKLAND, Calif. -- It is not for me, as a sports writer with ketchup stains on his shirt and a screaming editor on the other end of the phone, to take sides in this World Series. But I am. Taking sides. Actually, I'm taking a front. Rick Reuschel's front. Actually, just the part from his chest to his belt. I like it. Reminds me of my Uncle Mort, the pickle man from Baltimore.
It's a good thing the strike is over so we can get back to the really important things in football, like finding lost sisters.Yes. That is what I said. Lost sisters. In a week full of the strange and weird, this incident may have been the strangest and weirdest of all:Reggie Rogers, the Lions' No. 1 draft pick, gave his sister, Jackie, the keys to the Bronco last Saturday. And she did not come back: not on Saturday, or Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday.On Wednesday, Rogers skipped practice to search for her.
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.
