“Good. All these security checkpoints have made me hungry.” said Jim Harrigan, jokingly. Harrigan was one of President Danforth’s college fraternity brothers from way back when. He had good seats for the game, but when invited to watch a football game at Camp David with the President of the United States of America, one tends to change plans. He, too, sported full Michigan apparel.
“Per Jefferson’s request,” Melissa said, giving her husband a grimacing look and slight nudge to the gut, “lunch will be served buffet-style in the dining room. After you’ve helped yourself, feel free to join my husband in the living room. Or you can dine at the table with me. Whatever you choose to do, please make yourselves very comfortable. We’re honored to have you here as our cherished guests.”
Everyone started clapping. The President and First Lady had long since grown used to this type of reception. Friends or not, it was the proper thing to do when spending time with the First Family.
The Danforths quickly waved it off, once again reminding everyone that today was a fun day.
Little did they know they were just moments away from experiencing the most devastating event to ever visit Planet Earth...
14
THE CAPTAINS FROM BOTH football teams met at midfield for the coin toss. Michigan Stadium was charged with anticipation. Michigan fans far outnumbered Ohio State fans.
Of the 111,000+ fans in attendance, roughly 15,000 were Ohio State fans. Most were seated directly behind Ohio State’s bench near their school’s marching band. The rest were sporadically spread out in smaller increments throughout the stadium.
When their beloved Buckeyes won the coin toss and elected to receive, their presence was instantly felt. They were loud. But when the Michigan captains ran off the field with their hands raised high above their heads, it was once again obvious who had the huge home field advantage.
Kickoff was just moments away...
Bob Matthewson had been anchoring the ESPN makeshift studio on the field at Michigan Stadium since 9 a.m. Alongside Matthewson were his two colleagues, Jared Williams and Reggie Slater. It was so loud inside The Big House, as Michigan Stadium was called, that the three men could hardly hear themselves think.
Reggie Slater finished his analysis of the upcoming #11 Florida Gators versus the #5 Florida State Seminoles game—another game with serious bowl game implications—and the camera switched back to Bob Matthewson.
Looking directly into the camera he said, “As promised, we have President Jefferson Danforth who, as most of you know, is a proud graduate of the University of Michigan and a huge Wolverines fan, joining us live from Camp David. Good morning, Mister President.”
“Greetings, Bob!” the leader of the free world said in a robust voice.
Donovon Davies was back at ESPN studios in Bristol, Connecticut. He had both parties on separate monitors cradled into his desk in front of him. A third monitor—the one viewers at home saw—showed a split screen with the three broadcasters inside Michigan on one side, and the President on the other.
Bob Matthewson, Jared Williams and Reggie Slater looked straight ahead as if the President was seated directly across from them. You just had to love television. It could always make the impossible look possible, despite that 500 miles separated both parties.
President Danforth wore a Michigan Wolverines baseball cap for the interview, donning his usual Vote for Me campaign smile. This was the most relaxed his adoring—and not so adoring—public had ever seen him.
Noticing his Michigan garb, Bob Matthewson asked, “Mister President, you’re not too excited about the game, are you?”
The President smiled, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth. “I’ll tell you what, Bob, Melissa and I have been waiting for this day for a very long time. It’s nice to be surrounded by family and friends. We eagerly anticipate kickoff in a few moments.”
Seeing the fireplace ablaze, Reggie Slater said, “Looks like you have the best seat for the game, Mister President.” His visible breath floated skyward before quickly evaporating. “One thing for sure is you won’t have to deal with the snow and wind gusts like us.”
President Danforth responded, “With all things being equal, Reggie, I think I’d rather be there with the three of you. I’ve been fortunate to attend a few games there in the past. I know how much fun it is. I also know how cold it can be.”
Both men nodded agreement. They were all smiles. “I can only imagine, Sir,” said Slater. “If you were here now, would Michigan fans first have to sing ‘Hail to the Chief’ to you before singing ‘Hail to the Victors’ to the Wolverines?”
Both men laughed. Good one, Reggie, Slater thought to himself.
Jared Williams probed on, “Mister President, how many games have you been to at Michigan Stadium?”
The President appeared to be in deep thought as he searched his memory. “I believe six games, Jared, half of which were against Ohio State. As you know, home field advantage in this rivalry switches each year. As a student at Michigan, I watched these two great teams play in both my sophomore and senior years. Two years after graduating, I was fortunate to watch them play again. All three games went down to the wire. I’m proud to say Michigan won two of them.”
The interview with President Danforth was broadcast on the Jumbo-Tron screen inside Michigan Stadium. Michigan fans erupted. Ohio State fans, including those watching from the Horseshoe—Ohio State’s home stadium in Columbus, Ohio—booed and heckled.
After they settled down, President Danforth continued, “The first time these teams played each other was back in eighteen ninety-seven. However, the first Michigan-Ohio State football game ever played inside Michigan Stadium took place back in nineteen twenty-one. I’m proud to tell you we won the game twenty-one to nothing. It sure would be nice to see history repeat itself again today.”
The crowd erupted again into thunderous cheering.
When they calmed down, Jared Williams said, “Wow, Mister President, you really know your Michigan football history!”
“Once a Michigan man, Jared, always a Michigan man!” the President declared, knowing he had the crowd in the palm of his hand.
“Mister President, what’s your prediction for today’s game?” asked Bob Matthewson.
“Well Bob, in all honesty, it’s anyone’s game to win. Both schools have tremendous football programs. I believe it will be a fierce battle and defensive struggle right down to the wire. Low scoring for sure. And I agree with Reggie that it will probably come down to who commits the fewest turnovers.”
“You have been watching, Mister President. I’m impressed!” Reggie replied. He was impressed.
“I sure have! You guys are extremely knowledgeable when it comes to college football. Every time I watch your show, I learn something new. And I agree with Jared that not only will the winner play for the National Championship, they will win it! I just hope it’s Michigan!” the President said, pointing to the embroidered letter “M” for Michigan on his sweat suit.
Once again, the crowd erupted.
Reggie Slater said, “Wow! Mister President, you may have missed your true calling in life. You could have been a pep rally spokesperson. You’ve really got this place going bonkers!”
“Thanks, Reggie. Perhaps I did miss my calling,” the President said, savoring the moment.
“I just hope it doesn’t hurt you with Ohio State voters,” he joked.
“Aw c’mon, Reggie, they know it’s all for fun.”
“I’m sure they do, Mister President.”
The producer of the show told Bob Matthewson in his ear-piece that it was time to finish the interview. As soon as there was an opening he jumped in, “Mister President, we’re outta time. Thank you, Sir, for spending a few moments with us.”
>
“My pleasure, Bob.”
“Enjoy the game, Sir.”
“You too. Oh, just one more thing.” The President leaned up in his burgundy leather chair and looked directly into the camera, “Make me proud, boys. Win one for me!”
At that, the crowd went ballistic. ESPN did all it could to capture the moment. Cameras panned the crowd, showing the huge television audience the pandemonium taking place inside Michigan Stadium.
The Michigan marching band played Hail to the Victors.
Banners were flying. Rally towels were twirling above heads like helicopter propellers. People were jumping up and down on their seats screaming, cheering and singing their teams’ fight songs.
It made for good television. Real good television.
Press Secretary Jordan Kendall ran her pointer-finger across her neck. “Cut!”
The camera at Camp David went dead.
“Good,” said the President. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
15
TAMIKA MOSELEY PULLED UP to the departures gate at JFK International Airport at 11:20 a.m., leaving Craig Rubin less than an hour before takeoff. He was cutting it close. Too close for comfort.
Thankfully he was already checked-in for his flight. He did it online last night.
Rubin paid the fare then proceeded past the long lines at the check-in counter, grateful not to be checking luggage, and high-tailed it straight to the security checkpoint area. He arrived at the gate at 11:55 p.m. Passengers were already boarding.
Without realizing it, his cell phone had fallen out of his coat pocket inside the taxicab. It landed in between the back seat and right passenger side door.
Tamika Moseley was also unaware of it. But her job was to drive people from A to B, not diligently search the cab each time a passenger got out to make sure they didn’t forget something.
Besides, JFK Airport was extremely busy, and Tamika barely had time to catch her breath. It seemed everyone needed a cab.
As soon as Craig Rubin exited the cab, Charles Calloway and Richard Figueroa hailed her down for a ride.
“Where to?” she asked.
“The Waldorf-Astoria!” Calloway replied proudly, blowing into his glove-less hands in an attempt to warm them. A lifelong southern boy, he wasn’t used to New York’s fall chilly weather.
“You got it.”
INSIDE MICHIGAN STADIUM, A light snow was still falling, but not enough to affect the game or impair anyone’s vision. Only a dusting had accumulated so far. The field looked to be in excellent shape.
Brian Mulrooney and Justin Schroeder did their best to add to the already deafening noise level. Mulrooney was screaming at the top of his lungs, which didn’t help his headache much. Schroeder had two fingers jammed inside his mouth whistling as loudly as he could.
To see a Notre Dame Fightin’ Irish fan and a Colorado Buffaloes fan both rooting for the Michigan Wolverines was a bit ironic. If their fellow university brethren could see them now—cheering for a team their teams had storied pasts with—they’d have a lot of explaining to do.
Mulrooney thought to wear his Notre Dame knit cap to show his true loyalty but decided against it at the last minute. He and Schroeder would be Michigan fans for one day.
They even purchased Michigan baseball hats to serve as mementos. Whenever they wore them in the future, they’d be brought straight back to this day, as if by time machine.
Both men stood on their seats along with everyone else, clearly caught up in the moment.
Boy, what a sight to see, thought Justin Schroeder, drinking it all in.
BACK TO RECEIVE FOR OHIO State were the Griffin brothers, Derrick and Darnay. Both were highly recruited speedsters from Chicago, Illinois. Derrick was a wide receiver; Darnay a defensive corner back.
Not only were they exceptional athletes, both were in the running to win college football’s highest honor, the Heisman Trophy. Winning the Heisman was a lot like winning a gold medal in the Olympics or an Oscar in Hollywood; that prestigious title always preceded the recipient’s name.
The same was true with the Heisman Trophy. The winner this year would join past winners in what was dubbed the greatest fraternity in all of college football. For the first time in NCAA history, two of the top five candidates for the highly touted possession were biological brothers.
The Griffin brothers were that good. NFL scouts were already beating down their door hoping to sign them. They frequently told reporters the reason their skills were so refined was that they constantly faced each other growing up. Derrick was a senior at Ohio State. Darnay was a junior.
When Ohio State recruited Derrick four years ago, they knew good fortune would shine on them again the following year. Darnay made it no secret that wherever Derrick chose to go, he planned to follow him after his senior year of high school.
Derrick was already being projected as a top-three draft pick in the upcoming NFL draft. If Darnay decided to forgo his senior year of college he, too, would be a first-round pick. But he planned to remain at Ohio State for his senior year, just like his older brother had done.
The Griffin brothers were a huge part of their team’s overall success. During kickoffs, opposing teams didn’t have the luxury of kicking the ball to the #2 returner—they were both #1’s.
Whenever they touched the football, something exciting usually happened, giving Ohio State a serious one-two punch! Between the two of them, they’d already returned seven kickoffs for touchdowns this season. It was an NCAA record.
Despite the notoriety both men garnered on the gridiron, they were even more impressive off the field. Two of the busiest students on campus, they nevertheless still made time for those in need; whether an interview, autograph, selfie, advice, prayer, whatever. And they did it without ever displaying the slightest hint of arrogance or egotism.
Raised in the church, both had an unshakable faith in God, and often led the pre- and post-game prayers. Few would argue that the Griffin brothers were the nicest, classiest, most humble men on campus.
The game of the decade, if not the century, was set to begin and all eyes were on them. Their silver helmets were full of Buckeye’s Leaves—stickers they’d received throughout the season for top performance. Their lean, muscular bodies fit perfectly into their white and gray uniforms. Scarlet red numbers were posted on both the front and back of their pristine jerseys.
With a wet surface, their uniforms wouldn’t remain clean for long. Besides, who wanted to stay clean? Being wet and dirty showed you were a player.
Surely, one of the Griffins would be the first to get dirty, along with those who tackled him. That is, if they tackled him. To be tackled, one first had to be caught. Opposing teams were having difficulty doing that all-season long.
Derrick and Darnay Griffin nodded at one another. Adrenaline pumped through their bodies.
It was ShowTime.
16
BRENT JOHANNSEN AND CHAD Palmer were the two fortunate announcers chosen to broadcast the game. In 15 seconds, they would be seen and heard in more than 100 countries around the world. They would even be seen and heard up in space.
Both were ex-football-players-turned-announcers. When advised back in August that they were the ones chosen to broadcast this game, they went out that night and celebrated. It was a tossup between them and another pair of broadcasters. Both considered it a tremendous honor. And it sure looked good on their resumes.
For Johannsen and Palmer, this was their Super Bowl. In the college ranks, you couldn’t be asked to call a more prestigious game than this. It was as good as being chosen for a major Bowl Game or even the Final Four—college basketball’s annual NCAA tournament.
The whistle blew, and the ball was kicked into the air.
The football peaked in the snow-filled sky then spiraled back to Earth. Derrick Griffin positioned himself directly beneath it. It was coming straight toward him, twisting, spiraling, turning. All of a sudden, POOF—he was gone! So was Darnay! They simply vanished! Disappeared!
The football hit then bounced off of Derrick’s football uniform. But Derrick wasn’t there! Nor was Darnay! They were nowhere to be found.
They weren’t the only ones to vanish. Players on the field and sidelines disappeared. Coaches disappeared. Referees disappeared. Cheerleaders disappeared. Students from both marching bands disappeared. Representatives from the media disappeared. Alumni from both schools disappeared. Thousands in the bleachers disappeared, including many who were still trying to get to their seats.
“Did you see that, Brent?” Chad Palmer shouted in a growing panic.
“What the...” Brent Johannsen shouted, using expletives to finish his sentence, not caring that his ill remark was broadcast worldwide. Under the circumstances, he was too shocked to care.
“I don’t know. Should we go to commercial break?” Chad Palmer may have been a star quarterback in his day, but right now he felt like a scared, helpless man.
After a stellar career at the University of Arizona, Palmer played quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. Injuries prematurely forced him from the game, cutting a potential Hall of Fame career short. He often said being up in the broadcast booth was the next best thing to being on the field. Right now, that thought wasn’t helping him much. Fear paralyzed him. He completely shut down.
“I don’t know, Chad.” Johannsen started hyperventilating.
Sydney Levin, the producer of the game screamed into their ear-pieces, “No! We’re not going to commercial break! Keep broadcasting! Keep broadcasting!”
Chaos in the Blink of an Eye Page 8
