<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8602150936
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
861012
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Sunday, October 12, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
5D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
the picks
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
IT'S NO TIME REST OF MY (14-FOR-14) LAURELS
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
I am lying on silk sheets. My head is cradled in a velvet pillow. There is
the sound of soft music and a distant waterfall.

  "Another grape, my dear," I say to the love goddess on my right.

  Why am I here? You mean you don't know? Ha. Be gone with you, then.
  Did you not read the newspaper last week? Did you not read the picks page?
Did you not see 14 picks under this logo? And did  you not notice that all 14
were correct?
  All 14? All 14.
  We call that perfection, is what we call that.
  "Another grape, my sweet," I say.
  Yes. Amazing. A perfect week. No sooner did that  last game come in, than I
boarded the jet for this tropical paradise, reserved for fearless forecasters
everywhere, but rarely used. And now all I need decide is whether to dip in
the pool, or dip in  the dip, or have another grape. I think I --
  What is that rumbling noise?
  "See who it is, my dear," I say. "And tell them to go away."
  Let's see. Perhaps a ride on my llama. Or a stroll through the enchanted
forest. Or perhaps this love goddess would like to hear about my perfect week,
and --
  What is that noise?
  It sounds like a sick antelope. It sounds like a moose patrol. It sounds
like . . . 
  Nah . . . 
  . . . my boss?
  "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOUR PICKS?"
  But . . . but . . . I was perfect last week.
  "SO? WHAT DO YOU WANT? A BADGE? THIS IS A NEW WEEK. AND STOP EATING  THOSE
GRAPES! YOU SPILL THOSE IN THE COMPUTER SYSTEM, YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"
  This week?
  "GET MOVING!"
  But I . . . 
  "NOW!"
  Uh, this week . . . 
  LIONS 27, PACKERS 13: Last time the  Lions played a winless team, they
lost. Last time we said they should kill a team, they lost. Aw, who remembers
last time?
  PATRIOTS 34, JETS 24: I found this score in my files from the '70s. If
they're  gonna send us used quarterbacks like Steve Grogan and Richard Todd,
then I'm gonna predict a used score.
  BRONCOS 39, CHARGERS 31: Elway teaches Fouts how to pass in the clutch.
Fouts teaches Elway  how to shave.
  FALCONS 24, RAMS 21: Steve Bartkowski is back from his injury! Hey! All
right! Yeah! Big deal.
  BUCS 0.3, CARDINALS 0.0: Talk about a nothing game.
  RAIDERS 20, SEAHAWKS 19: Seattle  is 4-1. The Raiders are 2-3. But Seattle
is a 3 1/2-point underdog? All right. Who knows something we don't?
  49ERS 29, VIKINGS 24: Something about Vikings in San Francisco, I don't
know.
  REDSKINS  31, COWBOYS 9: Steve Pelluer? What kind of name is that for the
quarterback of America's team? Pe-ller? Peuuu- lerrr? What is that, French
milk?
  COLTS 0.2, SAINTS 0.0: Talk about a nothing g--- Oops.  I used that joke
already.
  CHIEFS 21, BROWNS 10: My friend and colleague, Thomas George, told me this
is a good pick. Am I going to doubt a man with two first names?
  BEARS 40, OILERS 6: Moon under  everybody.
  GIANTS 16, EAGLES 13: If Buddy Ryan wins this, he'll be .500 for the
season. I don't think we could stand that.
  DOLPHINS 59, BILLS 23: Four weeks' worth of Don Shula's screaming and  it's
win or die.
  BENGALS 28, STEELERS 21 (MONDAY NIGHT): Admit it. You'd rather be watching
a baseball game.
  BEST PICK LAST WEEK: So hard to decide.
  WORST PICK LAST WEEK: See below.
  RECORD  LAST WEEK: 14-0.
  SEASON RECORD: 52-18.
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
FOOTBALL;FORECAST
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
