DATELINE UNKNOWN -- This is how it began. They put their hands on a bat, one at a time, rising up the neck, a black hand, a white hand, a young man's hand, an aging second baseman's calloused fingers, up, up, until there was room for just one more. All eyes turned to, of all people, Michael Jordan, who smiled, because it was his turn. He grabbed that handle like a climber grabbing a mountaintop."We're the home team," he declared."National League bats first," Ryne Sandberg said.
* Washington 12, Arizona 9: When Buddy Ryan went to the desert, they compared him to Moses. They were right. It'll be 40 years before that team will be good again.* Pittsburgh 24, Cincinnati 7: Another fun Sunday night at the Shula house.
Most of our mommies are gone here on TV Street. We come downstairs and there's no breakfast anymore, no bacon, no eggs, no toast, no pancakes. None of us knows what's happening. But it's been going on for a while, and we're getting tired of eating doughnuts out of the box.First it was that nice family down the street, from "The Donna Reed Show."They woke up one day and Donna was gone. Never came back. Her kids were real upset. There was nobody to cook those nice dinners and mend the Halloween costumes.
TAMPA, Fla. -- There is fertilizer, there is horse manure, and then there is the game the Lions played Sunday. Did I say played? I meant dis-played. They dis-played punts, they dis- played returns, they dis-played snap counts. They even sent 12 men on the field and couldn't do anything. This was after Tampa Bay sent 10 men on the field and couldn't do anything.Why not send the Little Rascals out there? Then we'd have a fair fight.
All they want is an office, or even a few desks in someone else's office. A telephone. A chair. A place to conduct business. It isn't much.But you never know when you ask for help. Take Saturday morning. It was raining in Detroit, cloudy, depressing. A perfect day to sleep in. Baseball players were sleeping in, because, despite an average salary of over $1 million a year, things are just so lousy, they had to go on strike.
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.
