Top Ten Sporting Events I've Attended: Part II

Part II of my Top Ten follows. Part I can be found here.

5. Belmont Stakes- June 7th, 1997
A fantastic introduction to the sport of kings for me, with Touch Gold denying Silver Charm’s pursuit of a Triple Crown. Read about my experience in depth here. We’ll see where this year’s Derby ranks with the ’97 Belmont.

4. Syracuse vs. UConn, Big East Quarterfinals- March 12th, 2009
Possibly one of the greatest college basketball games of all time, I was lucky enough to be there with my brother Adam and my cousin Josh, then 14 years-old and by no rights should have been up until 1:22 a.m. watching hoops in Madison Square Garden. But when two top-25 rivals are battling through 6 overtimes in the Big East tournament, bedtimes go out the window. The game was tight throughout, with UConn leading 37-34 at halftime, then Syracuse controlling the end of regulation until UConn tied it with 4 seconds left. With the score 71-71, Syracuse’s Eric Devendorf nailed a long three-pointer at the buzzer that sent the crowd into a frenzy and then left us with baited breath as the officials took forever to see whether he had released the ball before the clock hit 0.0. He had not, and we were set for overtime. And overtime again. And overtime four more times. Each overtime until the last, UConn took the lead and experimented with new ways to blow it, including missed free throws and layups. Two of the overtimes featured just three buckets each. People who looked like they had previously been wiping the floor emerged onto the court wearing authentic jerseys and handling the ball when player after player fouled out. In spite of this, the game was unbelievable in its tenacity between the teams and remarkable clutching performances all around. A.J. Price was a man afire for UConn, but ultimately Jonny Flynn outdueled him with his relentless attack of the basket, constantly drawing fouls that sent him to the line where he was money every time. In an odd twist to this game that found itself tied at six buzzers, Syracuse ended up winning by 10 points, as UConn had nothing left for the sixth overtime. Being in the crowd was electrifying, as the fans cheered each extra period, like Michael Jordan counting titles, rooting for more and more and each time getting their wish. And yes, there were fans around us who left after regulation. I pity the fools.

3. Tigers at Red Sox-July 2nd, 1995
Now we’re getting into personal territory. The top three on this list were all attended with my late grandmother Ethel, who I called Nanny. Nanny raised two great kids, one of whom is my mom, and had the tragic misfortune of having to live the last 30 years of her life alone, after my grandfather was shot in a robbery of his store in suburban Boston, two years before I was born. Over the years, when she wasn’t visiting her grandchildren, Nanny kept company many nights with Ned Martin, Ken Coleman, Joe Castiglione and Jerry Trupiano: the voices of the Red Sox radio network. Some nights, she would watch on TV as the Red Sox pushed and pulled on her heartstrings, say “To hell with ‘em,” get into bed and inevitably switch on the radio to listen to the bitter end. She loved those ballplayers and all at once couldn’t stand them, and that’s the way it was as a Red Sox fan, and that’s the way it will always be for those who lived through the lean years. Unfortunately, Nanny never lived to see the 2004 Idiots win it all, passing away to cancer in March, 2003.
1995 was one of those particularly anguishing years, where the Boston boys were good (Mo Vaughn, John Valentin, Mike Greenwell, Jose Canseco, Tim Wakefield, Rick Aguilera) but not good enough (Zane Smith, Vaughn Eshelman, the then-corpse of Roger Clemens). The season started late because of the strike that had snuffed out the 1994 season, including the playoffs, and lingered into spring, like a bad fart that left a pungent trail between the point of impact and casually sauntered-to new location of the offender. So, with some baseball purists left behind, holding their nose at the audacity of a strike by millionaires who play a game most of us would play for $50,000 plus benefits, Major League Baseball carried on, and I with it. I was 19 years old, spending the summer in Palmer, Mass. as a camp counselor, with an opportunity to spend an off weekend with Nanny, who had scored us two tickets to a Red Sox-Tigers game in July. Mo Vaughn was my favorite player at the time and he was easy to like. Big, lumbering lefty slugger who crouched over the plate before uncorking monstrous home runs beyond the Pesky Pole in right. As an added bonus, Clemens was the starter and I still had great love for him even though he appeared to be in the now-famous “twilight of his career.” He and Wade Boggs were the heroes of my youth, so I couldn’t let him go so easily. Nanny and I settled into our seats in the grandstands on the first base side, safely under cover of the second deck and in view of any number of green pillars prefacing the action on the field. The game turned out to wild, with 13 total runs scored in the third inning (five given up by Rajah), two triples by the second greatest Black Irish of all time, Troy O’Leary, and best of all, not one, but two towering home runs by my man Mo Vaughn. Still, the Sox decided to make things interesting by blowing a 5 run lead in the top of the ninth inning, only to win 12-11 in walk-off fashion with a Lee Tinsley single to right in the bottom of the inning. Great day at the ballpark with Nanny all the way around.

2. Devil Rays at Red Sox, August 14th, 2000
After finishing graduate school in St. Louis, I moved to Boston for a year, in part to be closer to Nanny. She was 85 at the time, and while spry as ever, not a frequent visitor to Fenway Park. I was living right in Kenmore Square and convinced her to come with me to a Red Sox-Devil Rays game in August. This team had Pedro Martinez in his prime, but little else besides Nomar Garciaparra, the combustible Carl Everett, and Derek Lowe as its closer. It was the kind of team that needed to sign Manny Ramirez after the season. In those days (old man alert!), before the dawn of the pink hat era, you could walk up to the ballpark during the season and still buy tickets at the window with American cash. Nanny drove in from Melrose, where she had lived since selling her old house in nearby Malden several years earlier, and we went together into the ballpark. Our seats were in the right field bleachers, just beyond the bullpens and it was an unseasonably cool night in the Fens. Pedro was pitching that night, so the place was rocking as usual. The Red Sox tied the score at the 3 in the sixth inning and it remained that way in the seventh and the eighth, and into the bottom of the ninth. Nanny was clearly tiring and I knew she wouldn’t last into extras. I asked if she could give me one more inning and she nodded. After the leadoff man got on and stole second, the next two men went down quickly, and it didn’t look like we’d be able to watch the end of the game from the seats. Then the Tampa Bay manager decided to intentionally walk Carl Everett. Up came Nomar, but before Nomar-mania could begin, the manager called for another intentional walk. The bases were now loaded for Rico Brogna, a local boy and former Phillies regular who had been claimed off waivers by the Red Sox the week prior. Working the count to 2-and-2, the fans sensed the possibility of a bases-loaded walk to win the game. We all stood up, even Nanny, and waited for the pitch. On cue, Rico Brogna smacked the ball deep to right and over the fence for a grand slam walk off homer with two outs in the bottom of the ninth. It was only August in the pre-Manny/Papi Era, but Fenway shook like an earthquake. Nanny and I screamed and hugged, jumping up and down together like the 6 year-olds next to us, and joined the crowd in chanting “Rico! Rico!” over and over again until he dug himself out from his pile of teammates and took a curtain call. Probably the single greatest moment I ever experienced live in a ballpark, and I got to share it with Nanny.

1 Florida vs. FSU, Sugar Bowl- Jan. 2, 1997
The Gators’ first national championship almost never happened. After losing 24-21 to FSU in Tallahassee in a battle of unbeatens, Florida snuck into the designated National Championship game by virtue of a dominating win over Alabama in the SEC Championship game and Nebraska’s shocking upset loss to an unranked Texas squad in the inaugural Big 12 Championship game. Jake Plummer’s upstart Arizona St. team was the only other undefeated team, but were locked into a New Year’s Day Rose Bowl matchup with 1-loss Ohio State, in the pre-BCS format, which they promptly lost, opening the door for a controversy-free Sugar Bowl. With my parents having moved from Gainesville to New Orleans in 1994, the opportunity was ripe for a family trip to the Superdome. Nanny would always come visit us in late December for me and my twin sister's birthday, so she got to come along for the ride, even if she didn’t care much for college football that didn’t involve Doug Flutie. What ensued was nothing short of a complete and total manhandling of our hated rivals, crushing them by a score of 52-20 that left no doubt as to which team was the National Champ. For the first time ever, after decades of losing and half a decade of Steve Spurrier’s tantalizing genius, Danny Wuerffel, Ike Hilliard, Fred Taylor and Lawrence Wright brought a title to Gainesville. Even local boy Terry Jackson, who I played Boys Club basketball against in middle school, got into the act, rushing for over 100 yards and two TDs. The night ended with a newly-21 year-old Yours Truly, wrapped around several Bourbon St. lampposts, imploring passersby to give me a “Go Gators!” like a homeless man begging for a quarter. After 21 years of Gators, Red Sox and Patriots disappointment, and a fading memory of the Celtics’ 3 titles in the ‘80s, I needed a “Go Gators!” Over the next decade, I would get them in spades. I am one lucky sports fan.