Here was my first clue that things had changed down at Tiger Stadium: I heard a vendor recite poetry."Don't be shy, don't walk bytill you try our roast beef on rye. . . . "His name was Rasean Reeves, a 19-year-old from Detroit, he was smiling while he worked -- maybe that was my first clue, come to think of it -- and he was working in something called the Ball Park Deli, which was in something called Tiger Plaza, which is a giant food court on what used to be the players' parking lot. Now Rasean had a new poem."Fill your belly,
NEW ORLEANS -- They walked slowly into the breakfast room, their feet making no sound on the carpet. James Voskuil pulled at a dry biscuit. Juwan Howard poked at a plate of bacon. They joked softly about the night before, their first trip to Bourbon Street on their final night in New Orleans. For a few minutes, it was as if nothing had happened. Then someone mentioned a North Carolina player who was also there on Bourbon Street, surrounded by a cheering mob.
NEW ORLEANS -- When tonight's game is over, and the Michigan kids look anxiously for their parents in the tunnel, the way most college players do, Juwan Howard will be alone for one hurtful moment. He was raised by his grandmother. She died the day he committed to Michigan. So when his teammates share their joy, or seek parental comfort, when they hug their mothers and fathers, Howard will close his eyes and pretend he's hugging his Grandma. "Just because I'm here, and she's there in heaven, doesn't mean we can't do the same thing as these guys."
First, I fire the organ player.Hey. It's my team. My rules.I fire the organ player, because organs are for church, carnivals and '60s groups such as Paul Revere and The Raiders. Which might be a good name for my team. The Raiders. Or maybe The Rough Riders. I'll tell you this much: my team will not be named after a bird. The Orioles? The Cardinals? What were those owners smoking?Also, no peanuts. Go throw shells on someone else's carpet.My team. My rules.Oh, the possibilities! If I owned a baseball team? It's like Tevye in "Fiddler on the Roof":
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.
