LONDON -- Ah, England. My favorite place to watch baseball."Baseball?" you say. "They don't have baseball over there." You are correct. They also don't have cursing at umpires, free agency, domed stadiums or Rickey Henderson. They don't have players driving drunk. They don't have agents moaning "$3 million a year is an insult to my client."All they have on baseball is what you find on the back pages of the British newspapers: the scores from two days ago, and the standings.You know what? You could fall in love with the game all over again.
THE LIVE ALBOM* I must admit, I am glad the NBA season is over. * Not thatNIKE I've been affectNIKEed or anyNIKEthing. Sure, it's been twoNIKE months of nonstop basketNIKEballNIKE, but I've done a good job of keepNIKEing my persNIKEpecNIKEtive.
INGLEWOOD, Calif. -- Bulls win. I think. At least I'm pretty sure that was Michael Jordan dancing off the court with his first NBA title, and Scottie Pippen and Horace Grant and John Paxson hugging in a tight circle on the Forum floor. It sure looked like them, anyhow. As for the final game of this championship series, I would like to tell you what happened, but I must confess an embarrassing mistake: I obviously drove to the wrong arena. That couldn't have been Bulls-Lakers. It looked more like Kings-Clippers.
LOS ANGELES -- Go ahead. Break my heart. Tell me Magic Johnson is serious when he says, "I'm thinking about retiring. I'll go home after this season and see if I want to come back." There comes a time in every athlete's life when words like that escape his lips. And with some guys, you are only too happy to hear it. But with others. . . .
INGLEWOOD, Calif. -- The question is no longer can the Bulls win it, or will they win it, or, when they win it, will Michael Jordan wind up with more money than OPEC? No. The question is now: Why are we waiting until Wednesday to finish this thing? Even Dyan Cannon can tell you these NBA Finals are history, done, stick a fork in them. Michael Jordan and his CapaBulls will not be beaten, not by challengers, not by defending champions, not even by all those yellow banners hanging from the Forum walls.
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.