They come at Bill Laimbeer like kids in a zoo. Look at the beast. You think he bites? This is Laimbeer's life now, every day, in a restaurant, on the street, you can't hide when you're 6-feet-11. Even at home, he's sitting on his porch by the lake, and people approach in their boats and they kill the engine and float past, staring, whispering, "That's him, there. Look."
Late in the game, with the score tied, the crowd on its feet, Chuck Daly leaned toward his captain and snapped an ammonia capsule under his nose. Isiah Thomas jerked his head as if someone had slapped him right across the cheek. The message was clear: Wake up.Message received.
Usually at this time of year, I engage in a lively debate with fellow columnist Mike Downey, who is a wonderful guy in every way except that he lives and works in Los Angeles, which makes him a ninny.
I know, I know. The suspense is killing you. So I'll save you a few anxious hours as you await today's Game 7 between the Pistons and Bulls. After all, we know what's going to happen, don't we? . . .
CHICAGO -- So there was another bullet in the chamber after all. The Bulls fired, the Pistons went down, and now we are left with 48 minutes of basketball war to determine who gets off the ground and who stays there until next fall.
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.
