CHICAGO -- Here's one good reason the Blackhawks do not deserve to win this playoff series. They build this gorgeous new arena, and they don't have any seats for the Red Wings.I'm not kidding. It was a few minutes before Game 3, and I happened to pass Mark Howe, Martin Lapointe and several other scratched Detroit players wandering up in the press box, dressed in suits and ties, their hands in their pockets, like kids waiting for their moms in church."What's doing?" I said."No place for us," Lapointe said, glumly.
He remembers his goals. Both of them. You ask Kris Draper if he can describe the two times he scored during the regular season and he gushes, "Oh, yes, of course. . . . You want me to describe my assists, too?"
My philosophy of life is simple: Anything you can do lying down is OK by me.Which is how I came to be here, Joe Louis Arena, pulling a mask over my nose and mouth and sliding into the infamous hyperbaric chamber that now sits behind the Red Wings locker room. The chamber has made quite a stir as the latest techno edge in sports. As I understand it, you put injured or fatigued hockey players inside, they breathe pure oxygen for around half an hour, and they come out as Michael Jackson.
No chance, you told yourself. No way. Nicklas Lidstrom wound up for a slap shot, just a few feet in front of the blue line, and you whispered, "Forget it," because that's nearly 60 feet from the net, and in a game like this -- a sweaty, hard- checking, goaltenders-like-flypaper affair -- a shot like that, at best, only serves to set up another, right?Lidstrom swung anyhow. The puck went screaming. Suddenly he couldn't see it."Have you ever made a winning playoff goal before?" someone would ask later."Never before," he would say.
The last time the Red Wings went this far, his hair was dyed, it was red, white and brown. Looked like a half-gallon of supermarket ice cream. I felt like pouring hot fudge on his head."We only did that because someone said, 'Let's grow playoff beards,' " Shawn Burr now admits, "and I didn't have enough facial hair to grow one."Today, seven years later, Burr has facial hair. Not a lot. Enough for a blond mustache, which, thickness-wise, is somewhere between Larry Bird and Rik Smits. In other words, not completely finished. But then, neither is Burr.
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.
