He began to die in a grotesque fashion, dropping to the floor, convulsing in spasms, his arms and legs twitching as teammates stared in horror. Like many people, I cannot get that image of Hank Gathers out of my head. The question is: Should it be there in the first place?
WEST LAFAYETTE, Ind. -- Last time I looked, the NCAA tournament was a sporting event, not a shower. But you listen to the Michigan Wolverines in these suddenly losing times, and they act as if the post-season will rinse away their troubles and leave them smelling like a champion. "Something about being in the tournament," Terry Mills said Sunday afternoon as he slipped on his coat. "You get there, everything moves up a notch."
He used to practice on the metal flap doors that dotted the sidewalks of Harlem. Tappety-tap-tap-tappety-tip. When it got too cold, he danced in the hallways of nearby apartment buildings. Tappety-tip-tip-tappety-tap. One day, when he was 14, a fellow "hoofer" knocked on his door, said they needed somebody up at the Apollo, quick, let's go. A few breathless minutes later, he was auditioning in the basement of the most famous theater in his universe, just him and his dream and the silver plates on his shoes. Tappety- tappety-tappety-tip!
If I were in charge of baseball, there would be no spring training lockout. I would simply take the two negotiators, Donald Fehr and Chuck O'Connor, stick them in a hotel room, tie them to the bedpost alongside a drooling German Shepherd and have the door hermetically sealed. Then I would inform the world that they had run off to Mexico together. And the players and owners, none of whom really know what's going on anyhow, would shrug and say, "Well, shoot, (spit) heck, (scratch) let's play ball."
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.
