When "Stonefeet" Drew Bledsoe came in for Tom Brady against Pittsburg, and tore it up.
Bill Buckner - you know the rest, I hang my head......
You didn't say it had to be professional sports, so here's one from my own life. And the year my high school wrestling team beat Brockport. Huge rivalry, which they usually won. We needed a pin in the final match to win, and when our 185-pounder got it, the stands completely erupted. That was an unbelievable moment. Probably more exciting than any professional sports moment I can think of.
Were you excited for the victory, or from watching two high school boys rolling around in spandex?
safecracker wrote:"athletically, mentally" says who? What shrink's reports on mr young mr elway and mr montana have you been preasent for?
My point is thats an opinion not a fact.
I mean their ability to handle big games, they don't choke.
Other favorite memories though....Last year's Cub's run and this upcoming run!
One that comes to mind, and i know it is pretty girlie, but the 1988 winter olympics in Calgary; Brian Boitano vs Brian Orser of Canada. Both performances were first rate and i can remember my friend and i being sure that Orser had won (even though both pro-American) as Orser seemed to have more flare in his performance. As silly as this is i can remember jumping up and down excited that Boitano had won. I think it really affected Orser and of course history is with Boitano.
More girlie sport stuff later..:-))
Slappy:
ANDREW
Well you wouldn't know anything about it, faggot! You never competed in your whole life!
BENDER
(with mock hurt)
Oh, I know...I feel all empty inside because of it. I have such a deep admiration for guys that roll around on the floor with other guys!
I wanna be just--like--you! I figure all I need's a lobotomy and some tights!
BRIAN
You wear tights?
ANDREW
(to Brian)
No I don't wear tights, I wear the required uniform...
BRIAN
TightsÂ…
ANDREW
(defensive)
Shut up!
One of my personal memories. I was 17, playing in a high school golf tournament. It was an 18-hole event and at the turn I was in the lead. By the 18th hole, however, I was three shots back of another guy in my group. My drive went into the pine trees on the par 5, and I couldn't use enough club to try to make the green 220 yards away because of tree interference. So, I figured out that the most club I could hit was a 7-iron.
Well, I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think the ball struck a sprinkler head, took a HUGE hop over the sand trap guarding the green and wound up 10 feet from the hole. That freaked the guy in the lead out, and he double dipped out of the sand trap and made six, while I sunk the putt and made three. Beat him on the first playoff hole for the victory.
I was in high school. On baseball team. We went to a party the night before. I drank myself into what I think was alcohol poisoning. Thankfully I was a bench warmer, because I puked all game behind the dugout.
Slappy I did the same while playing football, the difference is that I was the starting QB, I remember a lineman about to hit me and I just threw up right infront of him......we won the game because I kept throwing up so nobody wanted to take the chance of hitting me lol
playing frisbee at central park's sheep meadow one day, a photographer walked by and took a few shots.
turned out he worked for the NYPost, and yours truly was in the paper the next day.
It was a rainy night as I drove home from work after a long shift at the goat milking factory. As I was heading for the Lynn city limits, a shadowy figure crossed my path. Slamming on my brakes, I was gripped with both fear and anger for having almost died because of this stranger. After my Hyundai skidded to a stop, I rolled down my window to scream a curse at the stranger.
But then our eyes met. Somewhere from a hundred lifetimes ago the face came back to me. I gazed into the eyes; the familiar bright green eye shadow and the three day old mascara caked onto a face that was a old as the streets of this crappy Boston berg.
"Hello, Skwerl", said the voice sounding strangely mannish.
"Hello, Mildred", I replied.
She got in the car and I drove. I didn't know where I was going or why, but I did know that tonight, this night, would be special.
She didn't say a word until she vomited in my lap. A stale wretched stench of beer and anti-freeze.
"Sorry, Skwerl", she purred.
"Just like old times, eh?", I said as we both erupted in laughter.
And it was then that I realized that...I...I...I'm sorry...I...just...can't...go on....
Ray Bourque taking his No. 7 sweater off and presenting it to Phil Esposito so that Espo's number could be retired. Classiest thing I ever saw.
You mean, you mean...Skwerl...you're...you...are...MY DADDY!!!!
Got a curve ball, ninth inning, big old roundhouse. Time slowed down, precision was on a cutting edge, power was unbelievable - hit it over the center field fence to win the game. Only time I hit a homer, was always a texas league blooper type hitter.
No Slappy. You have no Daddy.
Your chromosomes...they're...well....special.
You see, your mother Mildred was a hermaphrodite.
Yes, I know you suspected as much from those strange looks she got at your Boy Scout meetings.
But theres more...
One night while drinking her usual cocktail of Aqua Velva and prune juice she got to feeling very amorous and she...well she...fvcked herself.
And just thirteen short months later, you were born.
Now if you'll excuse me, I must urinate.
Game 7 of the Western Conference Finals, Lakers vs. Blazers. Blazers had a big lead, but The Lake Show came back to win. Sadly I did come to HATE the Lakers.
How about the Lakers conference final series against Sacramento two years ago? Was it game 5 when Horry sunk that lucky three-pointer at the buzzer to win it? What a series that was! I hate the Lakers too, but that was such a great matchup.
