Dead men tell no tales. And dead parents make no complaints. So it's impossible to know what Dorothy Mayfield would have thought about her daughter's acceptance to Harvard University.Or what she might have thought when Harvard changed its mind.It seems that her daughter's application -- which featured straight A's and glowing recommendations -- left out one alarming fact: The girl had murdered her mother four years earlier.Not exactly a small detail.
Grant Hill had a decision to make. Quickly now, before he answers. Mr. Jordan? Michael? Mike? He was sitting in his car, with the cellular phone set on speaker, because his buddies were cramped in there with him, hoping to hear the famous man's voice. Hurry up. What should Hill call him? Mikey? Mr. Mike? Your Highness?"Hello?""Hello . . . MJ . . . it's Grant Hill."MJ? He called him MJ?"Well, yeah," Hill laughs now. "At least I didn't say 'It's GH.' "
Kirk Gibson was yelling like a banshee. His teammates froze. I still remember that scene, even though I can't tell you the day, can't tell you the opposing team. I can tell you the Tigers had lost several games in a row, during a pennant race, and that was enough to boil Gibson's blood. He was screaming, calling them -- and himself -- names I can't repeat here, pacing like a caged beast, swearing they would never lose again or he'd kill somebody.The other players -- older and younger -- looked up the way children look at a raging parent.They won their next three games.
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.
