Some things you suspect, some things you guess at and some things you just know.
Tara Lipinski must be aware that by turning pro at 15 she automatically becomes the first draft choice of the Denver Nuggets.
Not to say that the estimate was generous of the Opening Day crowd at Comiskey Park, but if the Sox were writing fairy tales it would have been Snow White and the 27 dwarfs.
The one job Rick Majerus would really be good at is ballast.
Tempus fugit, or one day you are on the way to the ballpark being mistaken for the first baseman and the next you are being told to call a good game.
No matter what anyone says, Jerry Reinsdorf offering a moment of silence for Harry Caray was every bit as touching as Cher delivering Sonny’s eulogy. Really. I mean it. Honest.
If Albert Belle were starting any slower he would have to wear one of those backup warning beepers.
Ice down the cephalopods, the Red Wings are going to do it again.
Details are sketchy, but the proposed fight between George Foreman and Larry Holmes will be sponsored by Centrum Silver, and the winner becomes the WBAARP heavyweight champion of Sun City.
As the first Gen-X host of the Masters champions dinner, Tiger Woods will have to go through the drive-through himself.
Listen, if Michael Jordan had wanted to grow hair, he and not Karl Malone would have the Rogaine account.
The Bears are just a draft away from running out of excuses.
Sure, the Bulls can win another championship without Toni Kukoc and Luc Longley; they won the last two that way.
And just after the NCAA pays Jerry Tarkanian $2.5 million, it will send whatever is left to Barry Switzer, Charlie Pell and Tates Locke.
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The Bears are so thoroughly out of sight on this season’s football schedule, it looks very much like the NFL’s version of Where’s Waldo, or Where’s Wanny, as the case may be.
Doug Collins should face the fact that, at best, he might be George Karl as a basketball coach, but as a basketball broadcaster he is already Red Auerbach.
The way of boxing is that the world forgot Floyd Patterson’s fights before Patterson did.
Sure, it may be unkind to suggest that the Cubs took years off Harry Caray’s life and he might still be around if they had played like this, but still . . .
Only professional wrestling would offer Mike Tyson, Pete Rose and Gennifer Flowers on the same program without providing moist towelettes at the door.
Besides, no gathering of sports outcasts can be taken seriously unless it includes Tonya Harding.
Olympic hockey players may not be invited to the White House but that does not mean they will not be subpoenaed by Kenneth Starr.
Trying to read the new ESPN sports magazine is like trying to find the ketchup stain on a plaid shirt.
It is very suspicious that major league soccer and Phil Donahue left Chicago together, but only one of them has returned.
Fidel Castro now has the answer to the eternal question, Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio’s baseball? Autographed, no less.
Included with the honor of being a highly drafted quarterback is the inevitable comparison with Rick Mirer; the flag is up for Peyton Manning and Ryan Leaf.
The hockey fight between goalies Patrick Roy and Chris Osgood looked like two placekickers sorting out each other’s laundry.
Even if Tex Winter is finally picked for the Basketball Hall of Fame, he ought to hold out for the Smithsonian.
Enough. I can’t take anymore. I confess. I did all that damage in the Nagano dorm. Not the U.S. hockey team. And thanks, guys, for keeping my secret.