the merger would be pro-competitive and good for consumers. John Dingell, the irascible congressman from Michigan who had tried to pass a bill deregulating the Bell companies, warned Roberts not to throw in with AT&T on that issue. As he stepped out of the car, Rob- erts appeared surprised by the intensity of the congressman's feelings about AT&T. "Boy, he doesn't like you guys at all," he said. It occurred to me, if it didn't to Armstrong, that Roberts was men- tally dividing the world into "me" and "them," and we were definitely Tough Calls on the "them" side-even though he had just signed a contract that would eventually make Armstrong chairman of the Comcast board of directors. Armstrong believed that a company could have only one CEO, and he had already resigned himself to giving up that role in Roberts's favor. But he also thought that he could help Roberts manage what would be a significantly larger company. Roberts dodged Armstrong whenever he suggested that they get together to discuss their respec- tive roles and responsibilities. Meanwhile, the rest of the world assumed that Armstrong was going to play a role similar to Steve Case's at AOL Time Warner: focus- ing on long-range strategy. I assumed that Comcast would want to use Armstrong as a roving ambassador, making speeches and glad- handing politicians. In fact, by June 2002, I had a long list of speaking invitations for Armstrong well into 2003, by which time the merger was expected to have closed. I had introduced Brian to Jesse Jackson, whose Wall Street Project AT&T had supported, and urged him to accept an invitation to speak at his Rainbow/PUSH Coalition's annual meeting in July 2002. When Brian accepted, I made it a point to be there myself. While we were waiting in a small room offstage, I asked who on his staff I should pass Armstrong's speaking invitations to. I mentioned it more to make conversation than anything else, but Brian put a finger in my face and said, "I don't want Armstrong speaking anywhere on anything when he comes to Comcas