I used to live in NYC and would watch games at the alumni gathering. After a lack luster win over YSU the bar flipped the TV's over to what would become Michigan's infamy, the App State game. After watching Michigan fail and wrapped in the ensuing warm glow I then made my way back to Grand Central, dressed in full regalia as always for the games. As I crossed 6th I saw, headed my direction, a utterly dejected Michigan fan, also in full tailgate dress, head down, oblivious to me as he trudged west on 46th. I stopped to watch his slow shuffle, a wide grin growing on my face. About 10 feet away looked up and our eyes met, my grin turned to laughter. I laughed, not a polite chuckle, but a deep cathartic howl that exercised all the Cooper demons from my soul. The look of anger, pain and confusion welling up on his face was a dish I had never tasted from a Michigan fan and I reveled in it. In a city of 9 million, our paths crossed at exactly, from my view, the right time. No words were exchanged. We passed, never to see each other again. But I feel safe in saying neither of us will forget those few seconds at 46th and 6th Ave in Midtown, and that is my best sports moment.