Most exciting sporting event you've attended

This is a great thread.
I've already gone to YouTube so many times to check these events out.
Thanks for sharing.

 

David Wells perfect game for the Yankees. Me and a buddy got tickets because a friend of mine had to go to his brothers birthday party. Guy two seats away kept talking about a no-hitter....I was like "dude, you're messing up the karma."

Larry Johnson getting 2000 yards on the season for Penn St. versus Mich ST in Happy Valley.

 

This video reminded me of this thread:

1. Why does Russell always buy Jordan's crossover?
2. Why does this video go splitscreen halfway through?
3. Why did Lue ever think he could guard Iverson?

 

Been to a few UK- U of L hoops games that were exciting. Incuding the Cedrick jenkins tip-in game in 89??? maybe . Being a Cards fan, I threw up in my mouth a bit.

Saw OSU-Michigan in Ann Arbor in 2003. Largest crowd and media crowd ever at that point.

I was on the field for the overtimes of the UK-LSU football game this year, that was a great atmoshpere. As was UK's win over Tennessee last weekend.

Got to see a Knicks game in 1988 at MSG where Wilkins went off for 38 and 19. The seats sucked by it was cool to be in the Garden.

1991 10th Region final, Harrison County vs. Maysville. Mason County fieldhouse was packed and the game was decided when a kid from Harrison got a rebound, went the length of th court and hit a floater over a kid as the cloc wnet off for a one-point win. Tremendous game, still one of my faves I've been too. Plus, I was Harrison grad, so that rocked as well.

 

Fan: Went to the 1987 Final Four, where Indiana beat UNLV and Syracuse. Steve Alford was amazing to watch run around screens all game long. Oh, and Keith Smart's jumper. (I won't waste time posting the Syracuse-Providence semifinal, surely in the Top 5 worst Final Four game, on the worst games thread. Just brutal.) Oh, and attended for less than tickets' face value, which actually isn't that hard when you get a freebie to the semis in the Superdome. Just stand by the loosers' seats and offer up peanuts for tickets they can't use in Rhode Island.

Covered: Pats-Rams Super Bowl. My first Super Bowl. U2 performs at halftime. Vinatieri kick starts the dynasty.

 

I'm sure I'm forgetting things but among the most exciting games I've covered were:

-- Buffalo's comeback win over Houston in the 1993 NFL playoffs

-- Villanova over Hoya Paranoia in the 1985 Final Four finals at Rupp

-- Michigan State's double-OT win over Kentucky a 2005 regional final in Austin

-- Ohio State's controversial win over Miami in the national title game at the Fiesta Bowl was pretty interesting, too, at least at the end.

 

1. Jordan pushed off and before Russell knew it, Jordan tossed him away
2. For effect
3. Lue was not a bad defender, but got caught up on Iverson's feet after the crossover. Jacque Vaughn couldn't defend Iverson, neither could Jordan. Iverson made both look even more silly than Lue.

 

I posted this a few months ago, but I thought it would work here as well.



Sorry if the repost ticks anyone off.

I went to visit some buddies of mine in NYC, and we decided to take in a Yankee game. It was a Saturday, and the Twins were in town. We bought subs from the Carnegie Deli to eat in our seats on the third base line. The pitching match-up was Tewksbury versus Ramiro Mendoza. Yanks won. Great day all around.

The next morning, my buddy's cousin had two tickets from work. He wanted to go, but only myself or Steve could go. We went back and forth all morning.

"You go. You are a bigger Yankees fan than I am," I said.

"You go. You are in town visiting," he said. " I can see them whenever I want."

It finally came down to that Steve needed to get a haircut, so I took the ticket.

His cousin knew nothing about baseball. Nothing.

As we were walking into the stadium, he asked me who Jeter was after seeing numerous people with a "Jeter" on the back of a shirt. The way he pronounced it though rhymed with cheddar.

I knew it was going to be an interesting day.

I bought him a game program, and as he was leafing through the magazine he pointed at a man and asked if that was DiMaggio. I corrected him by saying it was Steinbrenner. I then said he might want to keep his voice down if he had anymore questions.

We get to the seats, and they were spectacular as Teri Hatcher's breasts. We were about 20 rows behind the Yankee dugout. It was a beautiful late spring Sunday, and it was Beanie Baby at the park. The stadium is packed with fathers and kids.

Seated behind us is an idiot who is wearing a New Jersey Devils hat. Typical idiot at a ballpark. We will get to him later.

The game goes along, and I am keeping score in the program. It's a habit I'm sure most of us have when attending a ballgame.

The game is moving along briskly with the Yankees taking a three or four run lead. Wells is mowing down the Twin hitters with ease.

In the sixth inning, the cousin asks me if I am "one of those people who likes to stay for the entire game."

He said I gave him the look of death.

You see, there was no way the two words "perfect game" were going to come from my mouth. The idiot in the Devils hat had no problem saying it about every 15 seconds. If the perfect game was broken up, I was going to prison because I was going to kill him.

The cousin had no clue what was going on. He had no idea what a perfect game was, and I was not about to explain it to him. I did drop the hint that I hoped the batter who lead off the seventh inning for the Twins was not going to hit again.

"Why?" he asked. "That guy has not gotten a hit all game."

As the game went on, the stadium was roaring on every stike and every out.

"These Yankee fans really get into the game," he said.

Finally, after writing shaking scribbles in my scorebook, Paul O'Neill clutched the final out.

I was jumping up and down screaming while trying to explain to him what had happened. He saw something most people would ever see even if they went to 160 games a year for 50 years.

My buddy Steve was crestfallen.

He was listening and watching the game the entire time debating to catch a subway to the stadium and get a late ticket.

He didn't.

He had said that seeing a perfect game in Yankee Stadium would have been the greatest thing he could ever imagine.

I really had mixed emotions because I saw a perfect game, but my friend had missed seeing it.

Forward to next year.

I am on vacation in Upsate New York, and I hear that David Cone has thrown a no hitter. I had also heard that a French guy blew a three or four stroke lead on the final hole of the British Open.

Needless to say I am watching Sportscenter at 7 p.m.

The show starts and the lead with the Yankee game. I thought to myself the British Open collapse is a bigger story than the no hitter, but then I realize that it was not a no hitter. Cone had thrown a perfect game.

I raced to a phone trying to reach Steve. I was praying he had gone to the game. It was Old Timers' Day at the park. Yogi was mending fences with the organization.

And Steve was there with his father.

Good times.

 

For the participation category:

Summer slow-pitch softball. Bunch of us from the paper were involved in a league. We're a bunch of C-leaguers in an A league.

So we're 0-fer and playing the other really bad team in the league. Bottom of the sixth, two down, equalizing run on second, BBAM at the dish.

I worked the count full, fouling off a shit load of pitches to stay alive. Then he gives me some off-speed junk ... frozen rope to center (hangin' a line 'o wash on that one) for an RBI single, advanced to second on the throw. Next guy flew out.

 

That's awesome, Devil.

 

Let me take you back one year.

The Philadelphia Phillies were struggling midseason and the New York Mets were extending their NL East lead. It was the middle of July, where the heat was enough to stick your shirt to your skin after one step outside.

But this night was cool.

I was with 44,871 other people in Citizens Bank Park on July 14th. But the only person who mattered to me in that crowd was the man standing next to me. My father.

With a loss against St. Louis on that night, the Phillies would cement their place in baseball immortality with their 10,000th loss as a franchise. I had one ticket to the game already, but I decided to surprise my Dad and take him.

I went to the game two days earlier with my cousin and hoped for a loss there. It wouldn't happen. Philadelphia stormed back to win the game and the plans were on hold for another day.

My father and I drove up to Philadelphia a few hours before the game. I never spent a time drinking with my father, so I decided that we would tailgate in the parking lot with the other fans.

We pulled into our spot and opened the tailgate and cracked open a beer. We talked about memories that we've had from previous games and in which direction I expected my life to go. With each sip, we connected on a deeper level than I think I have ever before.

The police came by and informed us that we couldn't tailgate in that lot. So my father and I acted like high schoolers hiding beer from their parents and took sips behind the car. The police came by again and asked us to leave, so we did, but we grabbed one each for the walk to the stadium.

We came to the street where you couldn't have alcoholic beverages beyond that point, but my father didn't care. He walked right across the street, beer in tow and urged me to come with him. When we got across the street, my father challenged me to a chugging race and we finished the beer right there in front of a security guy. He just laughed and my father gave him a hearty handshake.

We got into the stadium and went up to the seats. I had a Sunday season ticket plan and the seats were right on the rail in the upper deck.

I decided to make a sign for the occasion and my father and I fastened string to the bed sheet and draped it over the rail. The joy in his eyes to be helping his son at a baseball game almost brought a tear to my own.

So we sat there, through the whole game, through all nine innings, without saying more than a few words. We looked at each other midway through the game and we each shared a smile. Nothing really had to be said.

The Phillies were shellacked by the Cardinals 10-2, but my father and I witnessed history together. We stood there after the game and said while it may not be the best baseball moment, it was ours.

The next day in the local newspapers, stories ran pictures of my sign and included the words within the grafs of the stories. I bought a copy of each newspaper and showed my Dad when he came home for lunch that day.

A tear cascaded down his cheek. Mine too.

It may not have been the most exciting sporting event I've ever attended, but it's one I will remember forever.

 

Nice story.

What did the sign say?