I have been to many funerals in my life. I have never been to one like they had for Sam Washington on Saturday. They came from all over, white, black, old, young, basketball players who looked like prisoners in a suit and tie, kids in sneakers, little girls, mothers, fathers, coaches.
SEATTLE -- He was racing down the court, his arms wide open, looking for someone to hug, someone to squeeze, someone to celebrate this unbelievable moment. Oh God, what had Sean Higgins done? Grabbed a rebound off a missed baseline jumper, tossed it back through the hoop like honey down a funnel, and sent the Michigan Wolverines to the national championship game in the most fairy tale-ish season we could ever imagine.A-maizing.
What's gonna happen," you ask, pacing the room in your Red Wings sweater. "Will Yzerman play? Will Fuhr be beatable? Wings or Oilers? What's gonna happen? I gotta know.""Well, OK," I say, rubbing the crystal puck, "if you've gotta know . . . "
I have been to many funerals in my life. I have never been to one like they had for Sam Washington on Saturday. They came from all over, white, black, old, young, basketball players who looked like prisoners in a suit and tie, kids in sneakers, little girls, mothers, fathers, coaches.
SEATTLE -- He was racing down the court, his arms wide open, looking for someone to hug, someone to squeeze, someone to celebrate this unbelievable moment. Oh God, what had Sean Higgins done? Grabbed a rebound off a missed baseline jumper, tossed it back through the hoop like honey down a funnel, and sent the Michigan Wolverines to the national championship game in the most fairy tale-ish season we could ever imagine.A-maizing.
BOSTON -- Suddenly, summer. With one swing of Alan Trammell's bat, sending a long fly ball over the Fenway Park wall, everything old was new again: the hot dogs, the scorecards, the razzing from the bleachers. Baseball, ladies and gentlemen. The kind that counts.Opening Day.
LAKELAND, Fla. -- Maybe they're just waiting for the right moment. Some night next week, Darnell Coles will walk into the clubhouse and it will be dark. He'll grope for the light switch. And when he flicks it on, all the Tigers will pop out with little party hats on and scream "Surprise!" and blow horns and then Coles will know he's the third baseman, for sure.
BOSTON -- Suddenly, summer. With one swing of Alan Trammell's bat, sending a long fly ball over the Fenway Park wall, everything old was new again: the hot dogs, the scorecards, the razzing from the bleachers. Baseball, ladies and gentlemen. The kind that counts.Opening Day.
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.
