Michael woke around five in the morning with a head full of murder. He felt like he’d had a head-on collision with the entire Giants defense, and his head throbbed horribly. Groaning, he tried to get out of bed and found himself tottering backward. So he stayed put for a few minutes, took a drink from the bottle of mercifully still-cool mineral water, and then stood up and poured the rest of it over his head, He managed to stagger into the bathroom, stuck his head under the cold faucet, and waited and hoped for the best.