Webb put on your ear and eye muffs bruh.
April 5, 1993. I worked at the post office and put in to get off the National Final because I could sense my squad…the Michigan Wolverines…were gonna get their second chip in four years.
The Fab Five were in full effect.
My son Gaston was was a little over 4 months old and I held him almost the entire time like any Pop would in a proud sports moment. I was also on the phone with a buddy, Brian Miller, who was a North Carolina fan. So Michigan is taking care of business–with sickdiculous swagger–and all of the sudden Donald Williams goes Glen Rice and seemingly hits every shot.
I go from talking mad shit to BMiller to rocking Gaston to sleep just in case I had the sudden urge to break stuff. As I hold him sitting on the floor, I see Webber grab a rebound, travel and dribble the ball up to the Michigan bench and signal timeout. No lie, I dropped my son (it was only about six inches) on the floor. I just couldn’t believe it, in shock and I’m still a wreck. I see the score in my sleep. I’ve spoken to Webb, Juwan and Jimmy King on numerous occasions personally to gain a semblance of closure, but it ain’t happening. I wish that first meeting could have been something different. Maybe I need to see a doctor (any fine bespectacled sistas wanna analyze me in their office?), because this one stung…big time.
Every time I see this I get sick…