TORONTO -- The throw went straight from second base to second place. Too low, too hard, it ricocheted past catcher Mike Heath, and as Toronto's Manny Lee raced across the plate with the winning run, the crowd inside Exhibition Stadium leapt to its feet in giddy delight. They won this? The Blue Jays won it? The Tigers lost it? Are you kidding?
It was as if he'd traded his halo for an eye patch and a pair of brass knuckles. Was that Isiah Thomas? Sweet Isiah Thomas? Detroit's precious chunk of the big rock candy mountain? That Isiah Thomas? Running down court and waving a fist and pushing his chest into Atlanta opponents and hollering "YOU CAN'T WIN! YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE NOW!""Tell him, Isiah!" screamed a fan."Show him who's boss!" added another.
HONOLULU -- Don't tell me. Jim Harbaugh came into Michigan's locker room at halftime Saturday, the Wolverines tied with the unranked Hawaii Rainbows, 3-3, and he said, "Don't worry. I guarantee we will be lying on the beach tomorrow."Well, something like that.It took just six minutes in Aloha Stadium for Michigan to realize they play football for real out here. Harbaugh was sacked rudely on U-M's first possession, a should-have-been touchdown drive turned into a field goal, and the vacation was over and the game was on.
We arrive in the Big Apple with a whimper, not a bang. We get off the bus with bags heavy on our shoulders. We slink down the ramp and into the stadium and we try -- we try very hard -- to put on our game face."ROAAARRRRR!" we want to say."Meow," it comes out.We are the Detroit Tigers. We have come to win the American League East. At least we think that's why we're here. We have come to fulfill our destiny. At least we thought it was our destiny. That was before the ice packs and the bandages. That was before we lost 13 of 16 games.
MEMO TO: OFFICE STAFFFROM: HAWAIIAN CORRESPONDENTSDear Everybody,Well, we just landed in Hawaii, and I must tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be.And I'm not just saying that.For one thing, it's cold. I mean, it's really cold. Like I'm-still-wearing-my-winter-coat cold. Grass skirts? Ha! The people in this airport dress in scarves and gloves. And I'm not just saying that.Where's the non-stop sunshine, you ask? That's what I ask. Do you know what I see when I look out the pane-glass windows? I see gray skies. Gray skies. Can you imagine?
(Mitch Albom's column did not appear in one edition Wednesday because of a computer problem. It is reprinted today in response to inquiries from readers.)I didn't write this story on Opening Day, the day it happened. I wanted to think about it for a while. When somebody sticks a gun in your stomach, you do a lot of thinking.
NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. -- He is walking past the hotel patio and the crowd is swelling -- first two reporters, then four, then the TV stations. Is it Stallone? Is it Elvis? "Bo," says the PR man, "these gentlemen are from ESPN. They want to follow you around today.""Um-hmm," says the husky, balding coach, without breaking stride. "Well, all right, men. But I'm late for a team meeting.""That's OK," blurts the cameraman, "we'll just follow you and shoot. We don't need to interrupt.""Um-hmm."
They handed him the red and white jersey, and he pulled it over his head. "Welcome," they said, "to the Detroit Red Wings." Jimmy Carson grinned and posed for cameras. Next to him, general manager Jimmy Devellano was beaming. On the other side, coach Jacques Demers flashed a huge smile, the kind of smile you get when a police officer tells you, "It's all a misunderstanding, sir. You're free to go."
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.
