Jeez, I go out of town for a few days and somebody dies. Normally, I wouldn't have much to say on the subject of Bo Schembechler passing away, but it makes sense later, honest:
In the end, Michigan vs. Ohio State might have been too much for Bo Schembechler's failing heart.
The man with half-century-old roots to The Game died at age 77 on Friday on the eve of perhaps the biggest matchup in the storied rivalry's history, No. 1 vs. No. 2, and his doctor said it might have been because of all the excitement.
Schembechler, who became one of college football's great coaches in two decades at Michigan, collapsed at the studios of WXYZ-TV in the Detroit suburb of Southfield, where he taped a weekly show. He was pronounced dead a little more than two hours later at nearby Providence Hospital.
Okay, technically I was still in town when he died. I went to bed early on Friday because I had to drag ass to Intercontinental at 4 AM to fly to Maine and surprise dear old Dad for his birthday (I won't give the age, but he officially predates the Truman Doctrine). I learned of Schembechler's death while watching ESPN at a bar in the Newark Airport around 11:00 AM (don't you judge me…I was on vacation), and I had to get clarificaton from the guy next to me (Steve from Albany) about the specifics:
PETE: Bo Schembechler died? When the hell did that happen?
STEVE: Friday night, I think.
PETE: Heart attack?
STEVE: I think so, he was about to tape his radio show and collapsed.
PETE: Huh.
STEVE: At least he died doing what he loved.
PETE: Yeah, I guess if you can't go in your sleep it's the next best thing.
At this point, the conversation takes a rather severe left turn.
STEVE: After all, he could've died on the shitter.
PETE: What?
STEVE: How awful would that be, taking a shit and dropping dead? I think about it every time I go to the toilet.
PETE: You know, I never thought about that.
STEVE: It's my biggest fear.
PETE: I think you just made it mine, too.
We discussed the statistical likelihood of dying sur la toilette and famous crapper-related deaths (Elvis, Lenny Bruce) until my sister showed up and mercifully dragged me to our connecting flight.
I hate to amplify your paranoia, gentlemen, but a cardiac event is often preceded by an urge to defecate. I doubt whether any of you are old enough yet to be concerned -- unlike me. Still, my advice is to cut back on the red meat (Pete).
No way! As long as it's relatively painless, why not go on the toilet? I mean, sure in your sleep is the most dignified way to go. And orgasm is the best way to go. But why not let your digestive system have one last relaxing movement before shuffling off. But if it's painful, fucking forget it.
Great blog! It was good you left that conversation. It had definitely moved in the wrong direction.
My biggest fear is finding Steve from Albany dead on the toilet.