One by one they came up to Chris Webber, smiling, batting eyelashes, bearing gifts. They gave him candy.Photographs. Phone numbers. Lots of phone numbers."Call me," a young woman cooed."Call me," rasped another.He smiled at them all. He took their numbers but lost them quickly after they'd gone. He stepped into the limo and marveled at the crowd as the car sped away."They don't even know me," he said, shaking his head. "Why would I call them?"
A friend in Hollywood keeps me up on certain things, which is how I know the following: Nancy Kerrigan, and her agents, accepted an enormous business deal last week from Disney. It includes $450,000 for the rights to make a TV movie about her, plus her own ice show after the Olympics, plus five TV specials, plus her own book, plus a children's book, plus her own video and a few other perks. The friend in Hollywood knows this, because he, too, was bidding for her TV movie. He lost to Disney.
ATLANTA -- Bruce Smith, the symbol of Buffalo power, was on his knees in the end zone, the posture of surrender. All around him, Cowboys were dancing, doing high steps, mugging for the crowd. Half of them had their helmets off so the TV cameras could catch their faces. They mobbed Emmitt Smith, who had just scored a touchdown on fourth-and-one, a muscle test, yours versus ours, late in the game, the championship on the line; Smith had gone in standing up. Touchdown. Now flashbulbs exploded and rolls of toilet paper came flying from the stands.
ATLANTA -- Not that I spend a lot of time looking at other men's bodies, but I'll tell you this: Bruce Smith is an eyeful. He will grab your attention. This is not a human, this is a sculpture. This is a block of granite in comic-book proportions. The Incredible Hulk? The Thing? Schwarzenegger's role model?
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.
