Detroit Free Press

SEOUL, South Korea -- As a general rule, boxers do not have much to say. In fact, unless it is Ali talking to Cosell, the sum total of a boxer's vocabulary often can be listed as: "I hit him good. . . . I hurt him bad. . . . Where's my check?"Riddick Bowe is an exception. Riddick Bowe has something to say. Unfortunately, it is not always something his coaches are eager to hear. After his first fight at these Olympics, reporters asked Bowe, 21, a super-heavyweight, why he went for a knockout instead of boxing for points.

I've been hearing a lot of talk lately about the apathy of Tigers fans.The Tigers, as we know, are in first place in the AL East. Yet, critics claim, you couldn't tell it by the crowds at Tiger Stadium. According to recent league attendance statistics, you'd think they were showing old movies down at Michigan and Trumbull. Detroit ranks 15th out of 26 teams.Sunday at Tiger Stadium was Autograph Day. It was also Sun Visor Day. It was also a day Jack Morris pitched, and a wonderful, warm summer afternoon.The attendance was 35,977.

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 . . .