The beating began when he was 7 years old. His father, a drunk, would whack him with the back of his hand. He would scream insults. "You're no good!""You're stupid!" He would hit the boy's sisters, as well. Worst of all, he would hit their mother, his wife, over and over, night after night. He would split her lip. He would smack her forehead until she bled. She never spoke of it. And so the boy never spoke of it. And the shame began to bubble inside him.
I had this idea, before the rematch between the Red Wings and Penguins, that Marian Hossa might wait until Sidney Crosby had the puck and was flying down the ice and then he'd yell, "Yo, Sidney, right here!" and out of habit, Crosby would fire the puck to his old teammate."I did that against New Jersey," Hossa told me earlier this week. "Their defenseman (Colin White) was under pressure and I yelled, Whitey, Whitey!' and he sends me the puck behind the net."Really? "Yeah. Right on the tape."
You give them life, they try to kill you.That sentence should never apply to your children. But it does in the sad case of a Maryland teenager named Cory Ryder, who tried to hire a hit man to kill his parents.According to reports, Ryder, who was 16 at the time, met with a man he believed to be an assassin - but who was actually an undercover police officer - in a hotel room last June. During their conversation, Ryder offered his stepfather's pickup as payment for the kill."Two bullets is all it takes," he allegedly said.
FT. BRAGG, N.C. - One by one they approached, polite and smiling. They were so young. I have been on a book tour for weeks, and the bags under my eyes are so noticeable that I have taken to jealously checking the lack of bags under other peoples' eyes. Theirs had none. No crow's-feet around the edges. No wrinkles on their foreheads. They were so young."Thanks for coming," they said."Thanks for having me," I said.Some were holding babies. Some were with pregnant wives. Some were so clean-shaven, they did not appear capable of growing more than a few stray whiskers.
Friday night, at a high school football playoff game, it was damp and cold, and the players bounced on their toes to keep warm. Near the Rochester Adams bench, amidst all these bigger teenagers, stood Jordan Kidder, barely five feet tall, with glasses and braces, a school cap, a jersey, a varsity jacket and a job to do."Watch this for me, Jordan, OK?" a player said, running over."OK," he said."Some water, Jordan," another said."Here," he said, handing over a bottle."How's it going, Jordan?" another said, slapping his hand.
There could be 1,000 things in the world, and Terrell Owens and I would disagree on 999 of them. But one thing he said recently did strike a familiar chord - not only with me, but with every Lions fan out there.Owens suggested that if Brett Favre were the Eagles quarterback, the team would be better, maybe even undefeated. Now, he may be dead wrong. He may have insulted his actual quarterback, Donovan McNabb. But in saying what he did, Owens was only doing what fans here have been doing for years: Playing the what-if game.
As I watched Daunte Culpepper get sacked, miss receivers, bump into teammates and hear boos from fans, I was hit with the following thought: Nobody needs the NFL this badly.Culpepper, who came out of retirement for Sunday's game, began the first quarter with an incompletion and an interception. He ended the second quarter by banging into his running back. He got three snaps in the third quarter. And he sat for the fourth.
MINNEAPOLIS - Don't blow a fuse. Don't raise your blood pressure. It's not worth it. This team is not worth it. The season is perfunctory. It's a different organ grinder, but the same old monkey.
Being a sportswriter may not get you much - besides a decent seat and mustard on your tie - but it does prepare you for race relations.Maybe that's why, from the start of the presidential campaign, I've been less concerned with Barack Obama than some of my countrymen. There were many white voters who were hesitant about a black president. Some were painfully blunt. They spoke, insultingly, about watermelon patches on the White House lawn and rappers like Ludacris as official guests.
A friend said I must buy this "new" CD."It's great!" he gushed. "Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane live at Carnegie Hall."They're both dead, I said. "But this is their best stuff ever!"I have given that sentence some thought. Perhaps we've been worrying over nothing. Being dead is not the career killer we thought it was.In fact, it may do wonders.
Now we'll see what it means to be a "great American."For nearly eight years, anyone who dared to criticize President George W. Bush risked being called unpatriotic. The people doing this name calling are mourning John McCain's loss today.We'll soon see if it's about country or party. Remember, if you need to support the president to be a "great American," critics must get behind Barack Obama or risk total hypocrisy.
America gets a new president. The Lions get a new quarterback. Quick. Which of these events happens every other week?Right you are! The Lions' new quarterback is 31-year-old Daunte Culpepper, who, simply by signing a contract just became the most famous player on the team. That's sad enough. He also became the biggest attraction on the team, the most recognizable name on the team and, to hear some people tell it, the best player on the team. He also may start Sunday's game. Heck. By Monday, he could own Ford Field.
