Michael Schumacher's retirement announcement comes with a weird mixture of 9/11 and F1 for me. The 2001 Italian Gran Prix with the stripped Ferarris was my first exposure to the sport. Comcast had added the then Speed Channel, Adam had been jonsing to see European racing and I needed a break from the frentic week at work. I don't think we even saw the whole race; that would be the Australian GP the following season. But there it was.

And now five years later, he's retiring. He was never my favorite driver, but I did admire his talent, his confidence, his fist-pumping, podium-jumping exuberance. He's the reason why I could hum the Italian national anthem for a bunch of copy editors during the 2004 Olympics, and why Adam and I were hanging off of each other, howling with laughter at Pixar's "Cars."

I'd probably feel better about his retirement if I didn't buy into the rumors he was pushed out. It feels tainted -- not quite genuine. Even before Varsha was repeating the McLaren murmurings, I was speculating a Michael Schumacher seat with the Mercedes team next year, because I can't see him going out of the sport with this cloud hanging over him.

Besides, wouldn't you just give anything to see an Alonso/Schumacher pairing? It'd make the Montoya/Raikkonen years look like amature hour! It'd be great! It'd sell tickets!

It'll probably never happen.

Anyway. Godspeed, Jellybean Head. It's been a fun five years.