After having been through already this year the Superbowl,
The Winter Olympics, The NBA Finals, Stanley Cup finals, the Masters, and now
the World Cup, I find myself reflecting on how great sports are. Sports play a
large part in the history of the world. Events like the Olympics and the World
Cup bring everyone together and allow us to escape the world. The highlight of
Bubba Watson’s son walking up to him after he sealed his victory at the Masters
will be played over and over again for the next 50 years.
The history of our lives should be littered with great
sports moments. Every time there is a victory or a defeat lives are changed,
lessons are taught.
My memories are
filled with incredible sporting memories that I shared with my family and
friends. I thought maybe I could share one of them that has always stood out:
My earliest memory is fighting with
my brothers to go see the Jazz play. My dad would take three tooth picks and whoever
drew the biggest one got to go. Winning the Jazz ticket was one of the biggest
rewards of my childhood. I remember the first stop that we made was always
Smith’s. We would buy chocolate raisins and licorice. My dad would make us wear
the fattest looking coats we had so that we would be able to sneak the candy
in. After parking for free a block away from the stadium we would enter the old
Salt Palace through an entrance that took us right past the player’s locker
room. Before finding our seats my dad would take us as close to the court as he
could where we would yell at the players and try and get their autographs while
they warmed up.
Once the game started, my dad would
go and buy us Nachos, covered in jalapenos. Of course I didn’t complain, I wanted
to show him I could hang. I would yell and scream as loud as I could (thinking
the opposing players could hear me) throughout the game. When the crowd chanted
“D-Fence” I chanted with them. I was watching my heroes take on our common enemies.
We always wanted the Jazz to win by more than 10. If they did, on our way home
we would get free fries at Hardees.
Once the final horn sounded my dad
would put us right next to the player’s tunnel where we would try to get the
players signature. Only the lucky kids succeeded. Then we would head home
(unless the Jazz won by more than 10).
Memories like the above are why I love sports! Everyone at
some point in their lives should have that memory. Before my wife met me she
had never been to a Jazz game. She had to pass the test, so I took her to a
game. I told her at the start of the game (against the San Antonio Spurs) that
if the Jazz lose, we were not getting married. She cheered the entire game!
Yelling phrases like “Come on Jazz! My marriage is on the line.” You can guess
who won. If you ask her what her favorite sporting memory was she would
probably say that time.
We all have those moments. Whether it was at a peewee, high
school or a college game, we all have memories that we can share.
Sound off in the comments below!
