Detroit Free Press

So tonight the Tigers begin their final series of 1989, in New York City, a perfect cemetery for a garbage season. Say good-bye to this year's model. Hopefully, we'll never see it again.I paid my respects Wednesday night, the final home game. The atmosphere in the clubhouse was not morbid. It was more like a huge sigh of relief, the kind where you wipe your brow and tap your coat pocket to make sure you haven't lost your plane ticket home.

LAKELAND, Fla. -- Where have I been?A) At Adrian Dantley's house, cleaning up.B) On vacation.C) With Salman Rushdie.If you guessed (A) you would be wrong. If you guessed (C) you would also be wrong, but you get credit for imagination. If you guessed (B) -- "On vacation" -- aha! You were reading the newspaper in my absence!And you would also be wrong.

SEOUL, South Korea -- She walked along the corridors of the Olympic Stadium, alone, unrecognized, her calf muscle still throbbing from the race."I think I go around here," said Mary Decker Slaney, pointing to a concrete post. "No . . . wait. It's the other side. Oh geez."No one stopped her. No one recognized her. Were this Los Angeles, 1984, she would be unsafe in these crowded halls, she would be mobbed, either by fans or by reporters.

MIAMI -- This is a story about a star who is now a substitute, a party animal who now gets up early, a playboy who is now engaged. In other words, this is a story about growing up, something Cris Collinsworth never thought he'd be good at."You should see me now, I'm like the old man on the team," he says, shrugging his lean -- and nearly 30 year-old -- shoulders. "I get my kicks vicariously these days. I advise the younger players what lines to use on women. Like 'This one used to work for me. Try it.' "He laughs. "They do OK, too."

So tonight the Tigers begin their final series of 1989, in New York City, a perfect cemetery for a garbage season. Say good-bye to this year's model. Hopefully, we'll never see it again.I paid my respects Wednesday night, the final home game. The atmosphere in the clubhouse was not morbid. It was more like a huge sigh of relief, the kind where you wipe your brow and tap your coat pocket to make sure you haven't lost your plane ticket home.

MOSCOW -- The flags came out. The cheer began. "U-S-A! U-S- A!" In hockey we had done it. On the track we had done it. In the ice rink we had done it. Now it was women's basketball. The buzzer sounded and Teresa Weatherspoon threw the ball to the ceiling and jumped into a bouncing mob of teammates. The Goodwill Games final was history, and it wasn't even close; 83-60.We had done it again."Why does beating the Soviets mean so much?" someone asked Anne Donovan, the center on the U.S. team, as she waved an American flag.

LAKELAND, Fla. -- The good news is, Willie Hernandez has rediscovered the strike zone.The bad news is he was only standing six inches away and it wasn't a baseball.It was a bucket of ice water. A large bucket of ice water. He threw it on my head.I should explain.I had just arrived at the Tigers' spring training camp Wednesday from the Winter Olympics in Calgary. I was talking in the clubhouse with pitcher Frank Tanana. And the next thing I know, I am drenched. All over. And Willie is walking away, saying, "Take that, bleeper-bleeper!"

MOSCOW -- The flags came out. The cheer began. "U-S-A! U-S- A!" In hockey we had done it. On the track we had done it. In the ice rink we had done it. Now it was women's basketball. The buzzer sounded and Teresa Weatherspoon threw the ball to the ceiling and jumped into a bouncing mob of teammates. The Goodwill Games final was history, and it wasn't even close; 83-60.We had done it again."Why does beating the Soviets mean so much?" someone asked Anne Donovan, the center on the U.S. team, as she waved an American flag.