He entered the ballroom and walked briskly to his seat. The crowd applauded as strobe lights flashed and photographers lifted their cameras that made whirring and clicking sounds. He smiled and sat down, an arm's length away, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I am sitting next to the next president of the United States.
Patience, patience. If there was one lesson learned from the opening of the most anticipated hockey playoffs in Detroit history -- and let's be honest, you shouldn't learn more than one thing from the first game, right? -- it was that patience will not only be a worthy companion on this horse ride through the postseason, it may keep you sane."When already?" Wings fans seemed to ask, as Detroit went scoreless in the first and second periods Wednesday night, and trailed the eighth-seeded Jets by a 1-0 score as the final frame began. "What are you waiting for?"
For one night, they could let it go. They could allow themselves a flush of satisfaction. The war was not won, but a battle had been claimed, and only the most stoic soldier could come out of Friday night without a smile. So here, at Joe Louis Arena, amidst a shower of octopi, and a deafening chant of
It's Opening Day here in Detroit, and fans are preparing in the traditional way, shoveling snow.Soon, players will be pulling on their ski masks, and hot dog vendors will stick their hands in boiling water, just to get some feeling back in their fingers. The tarp will be lifted from the field -- so the snow plows can come in -- and once the salt trucks finish in the parking lot, and the umpire is defrosted, finally, the big moment, when the first batter walks to the plate, turns to the catcher and says, "M-m-m-man, even my bleep is cold."And he spits.
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.
