Call me chicken. I would not want to go against Bill Lajoie in a business deal. Maybe it's that deep voice. Maybe it's the narrow eyes. Maybe it's the way he cups his chin in his hand while you're talking, hiding his mouth, as if to say: "This guy is so dumb I'm gonna crack up."Whatever. The man is sharp, you can't miss that. And it's always surprising to go into his office at Tiger Stadium in the off-season and find him alone there, like a priest in a confession booth, when you know he's pulling all the strings for this Tigers team.
Just when you thought you'd seen it all, along comes a snowball.I'm talking, of course, about the infamous snowball thrown by a fan in last week's San Francisco-Denver game. It came flying out of the stands during a 49ers field goal attempt, landed a few feet from holder Matt Cavanaugh, and, he says, caused him to botch the snap and the play. The 49ers wound up losing by one point.Not since Frosty has a clump of frozen mush gotten so much attention."We must do something about snowballs in football!" people are screaming. Of course. And here are some possibilities:
NEW YORK -- The series was complete, the bus was waiting outside, and the Tigers players, still wet from the showers, dressed quickly, pulling on their socks and shoes. The clubhouse was quiet; it is always quiet after a loss. But no one was sulking. You don't sulk in the middle of the fight.
NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. -- You want to get Leroy Hoard's attention? Put a whistle around your neck, make your voice sound like Bo Schembechler's, then sneak up behind him and yell, "DAMN IT, LEROY! NOT AGAIN!"Chances are he will spin around and plead, "It wasn't me, Coach! I didn't do it!" Or maybe he will race down the street and block somebody.
NEW YORK -- He had just beaten Kid Magnificent, knocked him out cold, and now the foreigner was standing with his towel in his hands and his face stretched in glee, and what the hell should he do, here in America? How do they celebrate?Throw the towel?
LOS ANGELES -- The new blue and white uniform was hanging on the podium, where everyone could see it. The new cap nestled close to the microphones. Kirk Gibson, the guest of honor at this luncheon, had a Dodgers schedule in his pocket, and an appointment with the real estate people, and he leaned back in his chair as the waiter brought the Caesar salad. Glasses clinked. Conversation buzzed."This is a happy day . . . " began Dodgers general manager Fred Claire.
EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. -- The truth is, the Chicago Bears were never really eliminated -- they died and came back as the New York Giants.Lock your doors. It's the Blue Meanies this year. The Giants. They've won 10 in a row, and they're one massacre away from the Super Bowl. I don't like to use words such as awesome and destructive, but when the Giants' defense comes off the field, you expect it to burp.
PHILADELPHIA -- There is no joy in watching great athletes grow old, but some people seem to look forward to it anyhow. Their words hover like vultures. "This team's not what it used to be. . . . This one's over the hill. . . . That one ought to retire. . . . "Sooner or later, time makes prophets out of all of them.
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.
