Detroit Free Press

CALGARY, Alberta -- This is a story about an American hockey team that did not play defense, lost three times in five tries, and watched helplessly as a West German player put a final nail into its Olympic hope chest.The puck stops here. For the second Winter Olympics in a row, the United States has been eliminated from the medal round. It was a sad moment for American fans who saw West Germany's Roy Roedger whack a puck into an open net with 51 seconds left -- the final dagger in a 4-1 U.S. defeat.

This is how bad it had gotten for Darnell Coles. He was playing third base and praying the ball would go elsewhere. "Not just once in a while, all the time," he says, shaking his head. "It was like, don't hit it to me! Don't hit it to me! And if you're gonna hit it to me, then let me just step on the bag for an out. Don't make me throw it."

They have been "the kids" since the day they arrived in Detroit. We dressed them in short pants, we carpooled them in the backseat. "Wait'll the kids develop," we whispered to each other.

He didn't have room for the trophy at his fraternity house. So he gave it to his Aunt Gussie. She used it as a doorstop."It worked really well," recalls Jay Berwanger, 74, the first Heisman Trophy winner. "Later on, she used it as a hat rack. You know, with the arm sticking out, you could just hang your hat right on it."

BOSTON -- He sat at the scorer's table with the radio announcer, Johnny Most. Out on the Boston Garden court his Celtics players were taking early warmups. The arena was not yet open to the public. There was only the gentle echo of balls thumping against hardwood. Few people in the building knew that K.C. Jones' mother had died the night before."K.C.," Most began, in his gravelly voice, "on behalf of myself and all our listeners, I want to express our deepest sympathy for your loss."

LAKELAND, Fla. -- When will they write the last Alan Trammell/Lou Whitaker story? Four years from now? Five? Ten? And what will it say? Probably some syrupy prose about the longest- running keystone combo in baseball, Trammell, the boyish California shortstop, Whitaker, the brooding-but-gifted second baseman, and what great partners they were on the field and off the field and how sad it is to see them breaking up and walking into the sunset arm in arm and . . .

I don't know about this new instant replay business.Did you watch Monday Night Football last week? Did you see that call? The refs checked the instant replay, what, for four hours? I could have taken a bus to Dallas in that time. Why does it take so long? What were they doing in front of that screen? What were those refs talking about? . . . "Let's see that one again, Jake.""Yes, let's.""Roll it back.""Rolling.""Ooh. Look at that angle.""Yes, very pretty.""Let's see it again.""Yes, let's.

Call me chicken. I would not want to go against Bill Lajoie in a business deal. Maybe it's that deep voice. Maybe it's the narrow eyes. Maybe it's the way he cups his chin in his hand while you're talking, hiding his mouth, as if to say: "This guy is so dumb I'm gonna crack up."Whatever. The man is sharp, you can't miss that. And it's always surprising to go into his office at Tiger Stadium in the off-season and find him alone there, like a priest in a confession booth, when you know he's pulling all the strings for this Tigers team.