The banquets were pretty nice, as were the awards. They were all financed through the collection of cans, I believe. I went to WEston high, class of '89. At the banquet I attended, it became clear that a big part of Mike's mission was to honor the memory of a close friend who died in a drunk driving accident. Mike held an annual road race, the "Frozen Foot" in honor of his friend. The parents of the friend were at the banquet, and the father cried while Mike explained what the Frozen Foot was all about. Everyone on my team felt terrible because it was damned hard not to laugh at Mike's hugely dramatic delivery of the speech, and not knowing how much of what he said was fake. Then the father stood up and thanked Mike for having the banquet and the race. "It sure means a lot to us." he said.
Mike had boundary issues, there's no doubt about it. One of my friends, a woman, was ranked number 1 in his individual standings, and he followed her around all the time. She liked him though and took it in stride, and we kind of adopted him at that point.
Mike would always refer to one of his friends, I forget his name, the "lead guitarist for the Neon Diamonds." We all deeply believed that this friend was imaginary. Then one day this dude showed up at a cross country meet looking for Mike wearing a leather jacket with "Neon Diamonds" painted on the back.