This is me. Wasn't I cute?
Let me tell you a story. I was born in St Louis, on a Saturday. It was the day of the University of Michigan-Ohio State football game, which is the last game of the Big Ten season and usually determines who goes to the Rose Bowl. It was also Bo ("Genuflect when you say his name") Schembechler's first season, and the day of his first heart attack. My dad had burned his hand not long before when my parents tried to make fondue in their apartment (according to my mom they almost set the place on fire). And because my dad had this dressing on his hand they wouldn't let him in the delivery room, so he had to wait in the waiting room and watch the football game while my mom had me.
My dad went to Michigan. Later, so did I.
Michigan lost - I think Bo's heart attack had something to do with it - and Ohio went to the Rose Bowl. And I was born that afternoon, and eighteen years later when I went to college, Bo was still coach. And Michigan went to the Rose Bowl, and the next year Bo retired, and people probably still genuflect when they say his name. He cast a long shadow.
According to my mom, when I was six or nine months old my grandmother dropped me on my head on my aunt and uncle's driveway. That explains a lot.