HAKUBA, Japan -- To appreciate the scene -- one man, leaping into the sky, soaring above his flag-waving countrymen -- you must first appreciate the culture. Japan is a place where you do not stand out, where conforming is good, where joining is good. Those who dare to be different risk scorn and disgrace. There is an expression taught to the very young: "The nail that stands out gets hammered down."
Since we now turn to computers for shopping, banking, planning vacations and building bombs, I suppose it was just a matter of time before this happened:Therapy has gone on-line.That's right. For those of you who feel uncomfortable looking a therapist in the eye, you can simply log on and type in your problems. According to Time magazine, "the convenience and anonymity of the Internet beat $100 sessions on the couch hands down."Not to mention the parking.
Whenever this country starts to depress me -- more and more these days, I'm afraid -- I think back a few years to a time in New York City, when I was a social worker. I ran an after- school program for 5- and 6-year-olds. They would line up each day at the bottom of the stairs, then wait until I blew a whistle.
The world of sports turned its eyes to Atlanta for 17 days, when former boxing champ Muhammad Ali, top, thrilled the nation on opening night, left. Michael Johnson, above, was unbeatable in the 200 and 400 meters, and little Kerri Strug, right, was swept up in the U.S. gold rush. FACES OF THE GAMES
If you've ever wondered how much of sports is hype and how much is achievement, look no further than the man who said good-bye Saturday. He was the greatest athlete of our time. Quick. Do you know his name?He dominated his game like no one before, but his name is not Michael Jordan. He lasted a near eternity in his sport, but he is not Cal Ripken. He was the champion of the world, but he is not Muhammad Ali. He excelled in more than one discipline, but he is not Deion Sanders.
ATLANTA -- You take an idea. Get everyone in the world together, in one place, at one time, under one flag, for one cause. It is preposterous. It is unfathomable. But you circle it and you study it and you begin to chip away, like a sculptor on a mountain of granite.
You could feel the walls closing in, like one of those black-and-white horror movies. Joe Louis Arena was actually getting smaller, tighter, shrinking like a leaky balloon. The Dallas Stars had just scored a fluke goal, the puck had banged in off Bob Errey's skate, and here we were again, first round of the playoffs, first game against an inferior team, it's the third period, and the score is suddenly tied."Oh, God," you could hear the fans moan. If buildings wore collars, the whole place would have been gasping.Except the Red Wings' bench.
Idon't want to give the folks in Phoenix early indigestion, but when Joey Kocur scores two goals on your team, you'd better check your diet.Yes, I know it's only the first game of the playoffs. Yes, I know some teams need time to get loose. But two goals -- by Joey Kocur? That's like two touchdowns by Jerry Ball. Two home runs by Justin Thompson. Demoralizing? That wasn't sweat on the Phoenix players, it was skid marks. The Zamboni had a better night than they did.
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.
