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They finally agreed to bring back real big-league baseball, at least at the end of April, but can they bring back the poetry they stole from it? It's up to the players. Even though they didn't really cause the strike, most fans blame them because they make so much money, and that leaves it up to them to bring it back the way it was. Or at least the way we imagine it to be.
People, people who hate people, are the unluckiest people in the world. That's why major-league baseball - even as it prepares to return to the field after a 232-day strike - is still the most unlucky game in America.
Lawrence Taylor will walk through a tunnel tonight, his game face intact. He will hear the buzz, the muffled cheers and perhaps he will remember. It has been more than a year since Taylor played his last football game, nearly 15 months since he last felt the kind of adulation that comes so easily to Hall of Famers. And maybe, even if only for a few seconds, he may forget where he is and what he is doing in Hartford, Conn. - donning tights and wrestling a bald, 360-pound behemoth named Bam Bam Bigelow, all in the name of money.
She was commissioner for a day and, in the "best interests of the game" tradition of Fay Vincent, Peter Ueberroth and Bowie Kuhn, the honorable Sonia Sotomayor has apparently delivered the major-league baseball players back to the field. Should we stand up and cheer now? Or should we just wait until opening day (whenever that is) to express our undying gratitude for the return of what Donald Fehr has termed "real baseball"?
We knew it couldn't last, didn't we? As odd couples go, Julia Roberts and Lyle Lovett eclipsed almost any other celebrity duo you could name. Only the Michael Jackson-LisaMarie Presley marriage pushes the needle farther over on the weirdness meter.
Walter Cronkite hosts a news show on the Discovery Channel, "The Cronkite Report."
The news has been filled lately with Republicans taking a pass on running for president. Former Vice-President Dan Quayle, former cabinet members Jack Kemp and Dick Cheney House Speaker Newt Gingrich all spoke of being unable to raise money, or of a wish to fulfill job commitments. But William Weld, the governor of Massachusetts, gave another reason: He does not want to be an absentee father.
And the winner is ... Pulp Fiction. Oops, sorry about that. I was just having some Hoop Dreams of my own there for a minute and I forgot the question.
1. Tyson 2. Former heavyweight champion Mike Tyson, wearing a kufi, is escorted into a limousine Saturday by Don King. Photo by Associated Press
History and success fairly drip from the basketball traditions at Kentucky, North Carolina and Georgetown. Then there is Arizona State.
Madness isn't confined to the basketball court. It's in office corridors, elevators and cafeterias across the country. It's a buzz of scores, seeds and stats coupled with an overriding belief that upsets are good. Unless you picked UCLA.
Wake Forest's Randolph Childress holds back his dismay after a rare miss. Photo by Associated Press
Just like riding a bicycle. Over Niagara Falls. How could Michael Jordan ever have given up all of this to go 1 for 5?
Is there a greater joy than being self-righteous about the lack of family values on TV? Ask Dan Quayle and let the bashing begin. Guess what? An advocacy group for children recently found that the tube portrays kids unrealistically! Most are white, have easier, more exciting and affluent lives than ordinary kids, and almost all are untouched by social issues, money problems and ... religion.
Ben Davis did not make it to Dayton for the NCAA Tournament with his Arizona basketball teammates. Three years ago, Ben Davis did come to Dayton for the tournament with his Kansas teammates, but after that season he left Kansas to go to Florida, citing homesickness and a lack of playing time under coach Roy Williams.
In three weeks, Rick Pitino wouldn't mind another shower from a tub of Gatorade. Photo by Associated Press
Michael Jordan know's he's in demand. Photo by Associated Press
Dear Bobby: Leave the bullwhip home. Please. I'm begging you. For once in your life, try to be nice. I know it's hard. I know it's against your nature, in fact. But try.
The more years you are a parent, the more you learn about those baby sitters - those bursting-at-the-seams adolescent girls you pay $3 an hour to puppy love your children until they discover true love and resign. You learn how much you depend on these young women for your social life. No baby sitter, no social life.
We stand in clumps outside a hotel ballroom, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for something, someone, to emerge. If Donald Fehr shows up, or Princess Di, we are ready. We sit in a room with a lectern and a microphone at one end, waiting for someone, anyone, to come in and say something. If Jerry McMorris appears, or President Clinton, we are ready to record their words.