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M BO
Douglas S. Looney
September 14, 1981
Schembechler's the name. Football's his game. Brash. Curmudgeon. Know-it-all. Ranter. Raver. Hates sportswriters. Don't talk to him when he loses. Or when he wins. This year his Michigan team will win a whole bunch. May even be national champs. You'd love him. They do in Ann Arbor.
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September 14, 1981

M Bo

Schembechler's the name. Football's his game. Brash. Curmudgeon. Know-it-all. Ranter. Raver. Hates sportswriters. Don't talk to him when he loses. Or when he wins. This year his Michigan team will win a whole bunch. May even be national champs. You'd love him. They do in Ann Arbor.

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"You were 218 and sick last time you were in here."

"I'm a sick person."

"Get unsick."

Nothing is moderate about Bo. He has a firm view on everything. "If I make a mistake," he says, "I'm going to make it aggressively. I don't believe in sleeping on a decision." It is as impossible for Schembechler to hold his tongue as it is for the ocean to skip just one high tide.

He has two favorite expressions. The first is, "That would have killed an ordinary man." He uses that to refer to almost every bad thing that happens to him. Not long ago he was knocked down on the football field. Everyone held his breath until Bo hopped up and said, "That would have killed an ordinary man." The other is, "Got it?" Every time Bo talks to you, you have to acknowledge you got it, got it?

"I'm gonna tell you something, got it?" asks Bo.

Yup.

"Pay attention, got it?"

Yup. Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it.

As the evening turns dark and even more gorgeous and serene around the Colonial-style house, its master only gets more rambunctious. Millie serves dessert, and after one bite, Bo says, "I've had pecan pie all over the world, and I want to tell you. Mil, this doesn't measure up." Millie immediately rises to her own defense, citing the balky oven with the erratic temperature control, distractions....

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