<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8502090241
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
850929
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, September 29, 1985
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
2D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
the picks
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1985, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
ENOUGH TO MAKE ME HIDE MY FACE
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
I fold the column. I lean down. I slip it under the crack. Someone takes
it, and I go back to what I was doing before.

  Weeping.

  I am locked in a closet. Naturally. Had you picked the teams I did last
week, you'd be in here,  too.
  OK. That's football, you say. One week cherries, the next week the pits. I
told you the Lions would beat Dallas. You didn't listen. I told you the Lions
would  beat the Colts. The Lions didn't listen.
  Up. Down. What a life. And it continues . . . 
  LIONS 20, BUCS 19: There are four ways to look at this game: 1) All the
Lions have to do is stop James  Wilder. 2) There is no way the Lions can stop
James Wilder. 3) James Wilder could miss the team plane. 4) Who is James
Wilder?
  I prefer a different brand of logic. This is Detroit. We win.
  CHIEFS  21 SEAHAWKS 20: I thought Seattle was good. I picked the Seahawks
to beat the Rams. They didn't. I thought Kansas City was good. I picked the
Chiefs  to beat the Dolphins. They didn't. Now they both  stink.
  JETS 16, COLTS 7: Joe Willie is in the booth, Johnny U. has faded away, the
Jets play in New Jersey, the Colts are in Indiana, one team will put you to
sleep, the other will keep you there.  Does anyone remember when this would
have been the game of the year?
  DOLPHINS 27 1/2, BRONCOS 27: Close . . . close . . . close . . . Shula by a
chin.
  CHARGERS 21, BROWNS 14: And until Dan Fouts  starts acting his age, or
admits he is really Grizzly Adams, I have no further comment.
  COWBOYS 34, OILERS 13: Put Houston on one side, Dallas on the other. Jerry
Hall on one side, Willie Nelson  on the other. An oil rig on one side, a
Stetson on the other. A Porsche on one side, a horse on the other. Sorry, son.
There ain't no way to divvy up Texas, 'lessun you give it to the Cowboys.
  CARDINALS  26, PACKERS 19: Green Bay! St. Louis! Burp.
  REDSKINS 17, BEARS 14: You can only kick a Redskin so many times before he
becomes mildly perturbed, and kicks back.
  RAIDERS 24, PATRIOTS 10: You can  only kick a Raider so many times before
he becomes mildly perturbed, and eats you.
  RAMS 20, FALCONS 17: LA is hot. Oh,  wow. Blitzin'. Truly fantastic. Like,
too freaky for words, OK. Eric? My man. Dieter? My Canadian man. Ram. Bam.
Show 'em who we am! Totally bogus. Like, I'm sure. What was the question?
  49ERS 30, SAINTS, 14: Maybe Bum Phillips will have his men charged up.
Maybe they'll storm  the field. Maybe they'll womp the Super Bowl champs.
Maybe they'll win. Maybe they'll surprise everybody. . . . Nahhh.
  GIANTS 26, EAGLES 21: Randall Cunningham is lean. Lawrence Taylor is mean.
 Lean is cuisine, if you see what I mean.
  VIKINGS 17, BILLS 13: Can you believe Buffalo plays in Rich Stadium? Talk
about irony.
  STEELERS 24, BENGALS 20: Hooray. There's something to do in Pittsburgh
between drug trials.
  BEST PICK LAST WEEK: Cowboys 16, Browns 7. Cowboys won 20-7.
  WORST PICK LAST WEEK: Redskins 81, Eagles 0. Eagles won, 19-6.  LAST
WEEK'S RECORD: 4-9. I said I was in a  closet. What more do you want?
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
FOOTBALL;FORECAST
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
