Mo Carmen materialized in '96. Not in some focus group. Not on a marketing deck. He showed up the second Shawn Springs hit the grass and the Streets took off. While his more famous relative was doing his thing on the sidelines, Mo grabbed a trumpet and disappeared into a basement on South Campus.
He's the anti-mascot. No pom-poms, no choreography, no corporate sponsorships. Just a horn and a simple truth: "If the note's right, it don't matter how wrong I play it."
The note? The streak. And Mo's been playing it wrong—distorted, reverb-drenched, soulful—with Mariachi Sleepover since they started. No apologies. No explanation needed.
He's the black sheep of the Buckeye family. But even the black sheep knows the count. And while Ann Arbor waits for their next win, Mo's still here, playing that same plaintive trumpet over their silence.
The clock keeps turning. Mo keeps playing.
The Black Sheep Collection
Four tees. Four moods. Play it wrong, play it loud.
Mo's not the one on the sidelines. He grabbed a trumpet, found Mariachi Sleepover in a basement somewhere, and never looked back.
The Black Sheep Collection: scowling, slouching, smooth, and blasting his horn into the night. Organic cotton. Built to last. No apologies.
Long live the black sheep.