SYDNEY, Australia -- One lap. One glorious lap. One run around the track when you are faster than them all, faster than anyone in the world. What does such a lap mean?For Michael Johnson, it was about a legacy: his own.For Cathy Freeman, it was about a legacy: her nation's.
Afew weeks ago, I wrote a column extolling the virtue of newspapers. I left out the most important thing.With a newspaper, you can skip over the stories you don't want to know about.No such luck in television, where you watch the news as it's presented, in order of importance -- determined by what will get the greatest ratings.Which brings us to the frenzy over Robert Blake and his murdered wife.Let me sum up the case:Robert Blake's wife was murdered.
"I may not have been the fastest skater out there, but I'm the Olympic champion. So I'm stoked!"-- Steven Bradbury, Australian short-track speedskaterSALT LAKE CITY -- It is not for me, as a man who can barely stay upright in dress shoes, to advise Olympic speedskaters about their tactics.But I'll do it anyway. For when it comes to winning a gold medal, there are many approaches, but one of them should not be this:Go as slowly as you can and wait for everyone else to fall down.
Understand something about Joe Dumars. He loves to ask questions. He loves to learn. That is the reason he was able to go from a sneaker-wearing player to president of the Pistons in a few short years. He asks. He learns. And he admires learning in others.
SYDNEY, Australia -- Once upon an Olympics, you came to the party broke and anonymous. You arrived as an amateur, without fanfare, a small suitcase in hand, a flag on your lapel.You gave the best performance your body could deliver, you burst across a tape, touched the wall in a swimming pool, netted a winning shot -- and suddenly, you were an Olympic champion. Your world was never the same.
What is a chair? What is its intent? To provide rest after a hard day? To give order to the dinner table? To pull up in front of the TV set? All of the above? Yet a chair is never more than an in-between stop. In time you rise and get on with your life.Unless it is a wheelchair.Unless you cannot rise.Unless, your life, like Mo Gerhardt's, is shadowed by a congenital disease like Duchenne's muscular dystrophy, an often fatal affliction that robs you of the protein you need to build muscle. In cases like his, a chair looms the way the horizon looms for a setting sun.
Rock 'n' roll never forgets. That's what Bob Seger said. At least I think it was Bob Seger. I forget.Anyhow, last week, I tested Bob's theory by attending my first rock concert in years. The band was Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, a hugely popular group back in the late '60s and early '70s.Now, Crosby, Stills and Nash are no longer young. Even Young is not young. They have not had a hit in years.
When it comes to a teenaged basketball player named LeBron James, everybody has an excuse.His Ohio high school, St. Vincent-St. Mary in Akron, which is showcasing James around the country this season, flying him everywhere from L.A. to Philadelphia, has its excuse: "We're giving him a chance to face top-flight competition," it says.And the school's athletic director, who sanctions a large appearance fee for James and the team to play in your gym -- reportedly between $10,000 and $15,000 a game -- has his excuse: "We're helping raise money for our school."
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.
