 We got on the road, made it back to Pittsburgh, decided, hey, let's go out. We might as well just have dinner together. And then my phone started to blow up. It's my son, Bobby. Mom, are you there? Are you OK? I'm like, what? Joe's phone. Bing, bing, bing, bing, bing. Our oldest son, Michael. Dad, are you there? Are you OK? What is happening? And then, of course, we would find out what happened. Nothing about Saturday felt usual.