MINNEAPOLIS -- Four years ago, Greg McMurtry sat at the family kitchen table in Brockton, Mass., across from a football coach named Bo Schembechler."Would you like to wear No. 1?" Bo asked. "If you come to Michigan, I'm gonna give you that number.""OK," said McMurtry. "Great. Sure."
The locker room was noisy and they were slapping Wayne Fontes on the back and someone said to him: "Hey, Wayne. The governor's on the phone."Fontes looked up. Really? The governor? He jogged to the office and someone handed him the receiver and whispered in his ear, "I think he's gonna commute your sentence."Fontes smirked."Hello, governor! How are you!" Something about congratulations."Thank you, sir . . . uh-huh . . . "Something about the offense."Improving, governor . . . that's right . . ."
Let me get this straight. Jerry Ball is complaining about his salary. Again. After he renegotiated a few months ago.And let me get this straight. Bennie Blades, who does more fist-waving than intercepting, and Lomas Brown, who is a member of Detroit's internationally famous offensive line, figure, hey, if Jerry can do it, we can, too. So they're complaining about their salaries and talking about renegotiating.
CHAMPAIGN, Ill. -- Jeff George, the Illinois quarterback, fidgeted with his helmet strap. This was his time, wasn't it? The final seven minutes. He was the miracle man, the can-do kid. He does more with a football in the closing minutes than some teams do all afternoon. Hands on hips. Look up. Look down. It was his time.
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.