The Boy Who Would Fly: Michael Jackson

I'VE BEEN feeling strange about Michael Jackson since I was 11 years old. I remember lying in bed with a transistor radio the size of a large matchbox pressed to my ear, entranced and slightly embarrassed by the choirboy purity of 'l'll Be There'. I remember thinking, gosh, he's only six months older than me; I wonder what he'd be like if he came over, you know, watched TV and played football. Now I can guess.