The coach speaks in a whisper, and the young wrestlers gather around him in a semicircle on the purple mats. They listen. They say nothing. A few of them are big and muscular. Others are smaller, their skin soft. They are teen-aged, but they are still children, really. And children should never have to witness a murder, especially not to one of their own. But it happened inside Romulus High School, and now everybody here must learn to live with the nightmares, and it is not easy.
What's gonna happen," you ask, pacing the room in your Red Wings sweater. "Will Yzerman play? Will Fuhr be beatable? Wings or Oilers? What's gonna happen? I gotta know.""Well, OK," I say, rubbing the crystal puck, "if you've gotta know . . . "
I have been to many funerals in my life. I have never been to one like they had for Sam Washington on Saturday. They came from all over, white, black, old, young, basketball players who looked like prisoners in a suit and tie, kids in sneakers, little girls, mothers, fathers, coaches.
SEATTLE -- He was racing down the court, his arms wide open, looking for someone to hug, someone to squeeze, someone to celebrate this unbelievable moment. Oh God, what had Sean Higgins done? Grabbed a rebound off a missed baseline jumper, tossed it back through the hoop like honey down a funnel, and sent the Michigan Wolverines to the national championship game in the most fairy tale-ish season we could ever imagine.A-maizing.
What's gonna happen," you ask, pacing the room in your Red Wings sweater. "Will Yzerman play? Will Fuhr be beatable? Wings or Oilers? What's gonna happen? I gotta know.""Well, OK," I say, rubbing the crystal puck, "if you've gotta know . . . "
I have been to many funerals in my life. I have never been to one like they had for Sam Washington on Saturday. They came from all over, white, black, old, young, basketball players who looked like prisoners in a suit and tie, kids in sneakers, little girls, mothers, fathers, coaches.
SEATTLE -- He was racing down the court, his arms wide open, looking for someone to hug, someone to squeeze, someone to celebrate this unbelievable moment. Oh God, what had Sean Higgins done? Grabbed a rebound off a missed baseline jumper, tossed it back through the hoop like honey down a funnel, and sent the Michigan Wolverines to the national championship game in the most fairy tale-ish season we could ever imagine.A-maizing.
BOSTON -- Suddenly, summer. With one swing of Alan Trammell's bat, sending a long fly ball over the Fenway Park wall, everything old was new again: the hot dogs, the scorecards, the razzing from the bleachers. Baseball, ladies and gentlemen. The kind that counts.Opening Day.
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.
