LOUISVILLE -- The beasts were pawing at the gates."START THEM UP!" someone screamed."WOOOH!" screamed someone else.Only the gates stood between them and mad glory. The beasts were restless. The beasts wanted to run."IT'S TIIIIME!" someone screamed."DO IT!" screamed someone else.A cop checked his watch. There were about 75 cops there, billy clubs by their sides, safe on the other side of the gates, away from these wild animals. The cop with the watch looked up. He nodded.
WIMBLEDON, England -- What you noticed most was the laughter. How often do you hear that during a Wimbledon semifinal? Chris Evert would hit a great shot, and Martina Navratilova would shake her head and chuckle. Then Martina would scoop a volley out of the grass and Chris would drop her racket. And smile. It was not loud. It was not even often. But it was there. Quiet, gentle, familiar.Laughter."Wasn't that a little strange?" someone asked Evert afterward. "For such an intense match? To smile and even laugh at certain moments?"
I study the line sheet. I move my pencil toward my pick. I am picking against the Raiders."Not so fast," says a voice.Who said that?"Never pick against a team that's lost three in a row. They're bound to come back."Well . . . all right, I say.I move the pencil to the Seattle- Washington game. I start to circle Seattle."Not so fast," says the voice.Who is that?"Never pick a team that's won three in a row. They're bound to lose."But you said--"Trust me."
I am not worrying about the Tigers. I am not losing sleep, or chewing my fingernails. I am not placing a Detroit cap next to a string of garlic to ward off evil spirits. I am calm and cool. "But they're in sixth place," my fellow workers say. "How can you not be worried?""Worrying never skinned the cat, boys," I say, leaning back in my chair."Huh?" they say."Forty games," I say. "That's what Sparky Anderson said. Forty games before you can tell anything. And I believe the man."
KANSAS CITY -- They can talk MVP. They can talk Cy Young. But there are a few other awards to come out of this 1985 World Series that should not be overlooked. A little less well known, maybe, but just as cherished by the recipients. Sort of.May we have the envelopes, please?THE MISTER ROGERS "WOULD YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?" AWARD: To Cardinals pitcher John Tudor, who, when asked by a reporter why he didn't seem to be enjoying his Game 5 victory, replied, "Do you want me to punch you in the mouth? Would that make you happy?"
IONIA -- He didn't see the bodies. Not when he arrived. Just the car, a 1972 Chevy Malibu, parked right where the phone call said it was, on a tractor path just off Frank Road. State Trooper Jim Rogers got out of his squad car and sighed. "Probably some guy fell asleep," he figured. Happens all the time. It was, after all, Saturday morning, and most people don't leave their vehicles overnight in a deserted field with the motor running.
MIAMI -- You expect, now and then, to run smack into your conscience. You just don't expect it to happen at the Super Bowl. A game. A gunshot. And today we must ask ourselves what America is all about.
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.
