I wear a 7.5 if we're talking baseball caps, I'm not sure what I
wear in ass-hat, maybe somewhere between J. Lo and Niecy Nash. I
will hold myself out there for the slings and arrows of my fellow
Michigan fans, yes I booed.
I'd flown in from New
Orleans to go to the game with my Dad, I'd had a particularly stressful
week at work and my threshold for atrocity was low. I kept
telling mysef they're just college kids, they're trying hard, they
aren't doing this purposefully to torture you, be nice, don't
boo, don't boo, don't boo. I held it together for awhile.
Greg Matthews fumble, "damn, that sucks".
Morgan Trent fumble, "that is ridiculous, how does this keep happening?"
Steven Threet interception #1, "ouch,"
by this time my resolution not to boo was disappearing into a rage far
from maize, then Steven Threet threw what looked to be a dead cat into
the air with seconds remaining in the first half, picked off, then it
happened "GET OFF THE FIELD YOU SUCK! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" And like
that I was on my feet ranting and raving hurling expletives (that the
nine year old next to me will probably repeat gleefully
ad-nauesum all week) insulting a 19 year old who undoubtedly felt
much worse about his on-field performance than I did (and probably
handed his dissapointment much better).
In case anyone
beleives in Karma, here is some validation . . . My Dad (an older
gentleman) had not been feeling well all day and at halftime asked if
we could leave, since I drove him to the game, I had no choice and
walked out with my head-held low; yes, I left at half-time and missed
Michigan's greatest home comeback.
I was wrong, please take me back dear Wolverines, oh and to the 9 year-olds parents, I apologize.