Reader Extra Participation Friday: Good News, Bad News, and Boring Stories
Listed here in that order, because I'm a big fan of compartmentalization. Why lump all the information together into a giant ball of confusion when I can conveniently and clearly separate it for you? It's like the difference between watching football highlights narrated by Shannon Sharpe and those narrated by anyone else. Well, not really. That comparison barely holds. I just wanted to pick on some low-hanging fruit and point out that Sharpe is completely incapable of verbally communicating with an audience.
The good news: Exactly one week from today, I'll be done with this horrendous job that has taken up way too much of my time. You know what that means, all seven of you who have stuck with us through these last few lean months? That's right- you're about to have access to a lot more mediocre anti-sports media blogging. Don't spend it all in one place. Hopefully I'll settle into a routine of staying up all night and putting up something very substantial at least four days a week, just like I did last fall/early winter.
The bad news: Yet again, for about the 90th-ish time in the last 100-ish nights, I have nothing substantial to offer you. I know, I know. It hurts me too. Of course, dozens of professional journalists have made long and fruitful careers out of offering nothing substantial to their readers. So I guess I'm not alone. Here, I'll be Woody Paige: I THINK WE SHOULD MAKE MICHAEL VICK FIGHT A BUNCH OF PEOPLE TO THE DEATH, AND LET DOGS WATCH. THAT SOUNDS FAIR, RIGHT? EYE FOR AN EYE. OR AS I LIKE TO SAY, PIE FOR A GUY. Sounds about right. And this admission that I yet again haven't written anything big leads me to...
So remember this post from Wednesday? I was thinking it would be really legendary if anyone who wanted to chip in could share the most legendary sports moment they've ever witnessed, in the vein of the last guy I complained about with the Clemente/Bonds story. We're talking about the kind of thing legends are made of. Go on, tell away. Here, I'll get things started:
JOHN ELWAY EXTENDS DRIVE WITH ACCURATE HUCK. It was late fall 1994, and the Broncos were hosting the Chiefs in an AFC West showdown at Mile High Stadium. Ten year old Larry B was in attendance. I was sitting there in section 319 (that's made up, I have no idea where I was sitting) as the Broncos faced an uncritical third and six from the KC 45 with about seven minutes left in the second quarter. Elway dropped back to pass, avoided a blitzer by brushing off an arm tackle, and fired a seed directly into the waiting arms some receiver whose name escapes me at the moment. The completion was good for nine yards and a first down! Denver would go on to kick a field goal on the drive. It remains to this day the most amazing pass I've ever seen on a third and six from the opponents' 45 at Mile High Stadium. I'm 23 now.
Please, everyone jump in. We've all got something to share.
Over/under on number of people who actually participate: 2.5. Hint: don't take the over. But a week from now, it all changes. We're getting the readership back up into the low teens. I can almost taste the impending Google ad revenue.
11 comments:
May 8th, 2005 - BUSCH STADIUM - On a blustery Mother's Day tilt, a hot dog wrapper dramatically floats down towards the playing surface down on the third base side. Then out of nowhere, in one fluid motion, Scott Rolen snatched it out of midair and put it in his pocket, then resets for the play. To this day, no single player has fought for cleanliness of the playing field like 27.
Also of note - where that stadium was in now nothing but pollution. Can't wait for that '09 All-Star Game!
Sept. 11, 2005 - Ralph Wilson Stadium - I was sitting right behind the Houston Texans' end zone for future Hall of Fame QB J.P. Losman's first career touchdown strike, a 1-yarder to tackle eligible Jason Peters. Jealous? Buffalo ... Where legendary happens.
Dodger Stadium, Aug, 1988--
Orel Hershiser fires a pitch toward home, and the batter fouls it off into the Lodge section, where I make a fine two handed grab, bruising my left thumb in the process. Later in the year he would begin the streak that would set the record for consecutive shutout innings pitched. didn't get to see any of those except on tv though.
Sunday, March 31st, 1996 - FleetCenter, Boston
The Mighty Boston Celtics were gunning for their 17th championship when Mookie Blaylock singlehandedly brought them back to reality and demoralized the team for the rest of the season. Under the sixteen banners and retired numbers, Mookie canned 2 three pointers in the last 30 seconds, including one as time expired, to give the Hawks a 1 point victory over Boston. I'm pretty sure he flipped off Red Auerbach after, or he was just saying he was number one or something. I didn't really see anything, we were in the nosebleeds.
Because of that victory being snatched from their hands, Boston ended up 33-49 and did not, in fact, win the championship. It was one of the top 3 game winning shots I've seen at an NBA game.
Years later I learned that a band had named themselves Mookie Blaylock (based on this day?). That band would change their name, and become rock powerhouse Fuckbunny.
lollerskates @ "pie for a guy"
Yankee Stadium, May 2006
The entire Yankees season was resting on this game. If they had lost, it would have pushed their losing streak -the countries losing streak, really- to an unacceptable two games. The air was thick with the spittle of unsatisfied New Yorkers, dense as the editorial section of the New York Post.
It was hot, but the Yankees bats were not. Not, until that is, that Derek Jeter poked his heroic butt out, waggled his firm little bat, and sent that little white ball into a puddle of ecstasy softly in front of the right fielder. He would later come around on an Alex Rodriguez double.
We didn't know it at the time - how could we? - but that would be the difference in the game. Later, A-Rod would hit a walk-off homerun that would have simply been a game-tying homerun had it not been for the tangibly intangible heroics of Captain America.
No, we didn't know what it meant.
But Jeter did.
The Captain did.
May 22, 2007...the air is thick in Secaucus, NJ...All fans in Boston are anxiously awaiting the fortunate bounce of the ping pong ball that will bring an end to all their struggles. "Finally," they think "all those years of bad basketball are over." Only it never comes. All the tanking the team did the previous year is all for naught as the first pick in the NBA draft goes to the Portland Trailblazers. Professional basketball is effectively murdered in Boston.
This memory would be a lot sweeter if Basketball would have stayed dead in Boston...but those days between the lottery and the Garnett trade were just so wonderful.
May 2003,
I was at a Newark Bears game for my 14th birthday, and the night couldn't get any better. I had already chased down a foul ball, and eventually worked my way down to the front row after paying only $10 to get in (gotta love the minors). The Bears were down by one in the bottom of the ninth, with a man on first and one out, and a 45 year old Ricky Henderson came on to pinch run. He stole second relatively easy, and got to third on a bloop single. Then the unthinkable happened. Ricky Henderson tried to steal home. Unfortunately he didn't make it, and was out pretty eaily, but it was without a doubt the gutsiest/stupidest thing I've ever seen. The Bears lost 2 pitches later.
That barely beat out going to a Pawsox game and seeing both Milton Bradley and Coco Crisp in the outfield for the Buffalo Buffaloes (well technicaly they're the Bison, but that's lame)
July, 1990 -- McCoy Stadium, Pawtucket, RI -- My 11 year-old son and I, staunch Yankee fans, witnessed the Yanks' AAA Columbus Clippers demolish the hated Pawsox. The immortal Wade Taylor spun a one-hitter, as the Clips prevailed 4-0. Best of all the fans of the hated baby Sawx were quiet, UNTIL the true legendary moment, when with two out and nobody on in the bottom of the sixth, Taylor faltered and ran the count to 2 and 0. The crowd went wild, the little kids screamed "We want a hit!" On the next pitch the hapless batter popped out. The only two in the crowd who made a sound the rest of the game were my son and I.
Tuesday October 5, 1999 - Riverfront Stadium, Cincinnati, OH
A fifteen-year old dan-bob, excited about the scrappy, poor, 96-win Reds team, immediately experiences deep dejection when he hears rumors at school that the Reds' one-game playoff tickets sold out in under three hours. dan-bob walks home off the school bus, only to be re-energized by his mother's presentation of five tickets for the whole dan-bob clan. It's freezing cold and the dan-bobs are sitting in the nosebleeds of all nosebleeds, hundreds of yards away from the action, but hope had sprung eternal all season. There was no way the Reds could be denied; their run to the World Series was that much more dramatic - this was only the sixth one-game playoff in baseball history!
Then reality kicked in and Al Leiter shut the Reds out, 5-0. As my girl Avril would say, so much for my happy ending.
No sarcasm- maybe one of our best REPFs yet. Who'd have guessed it? Besides Anonymous, I mean. Christ, and many of the regulars didn't even bother to show up.
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