It’s a simple question with a thousand different answers. I’ll share mine here.
I lived in San Diego with my dad at the time. I was still trying to figure things out in life having just quit my first job at Jack in the Box, because they wouldn’t give me the AFC Championship game day off from work.
To me, the Denver Broncos were more important than anything else I had going on in my life at that time and they were on the cusp of the Super Bowl berth with the best team I’d ever seen them put on the field. So to Jack in the Box I said, “Bye Felicia.”
From my dad’s condo balcony I could see Jack Murphy Stadium. I could hear and see the fireworks, but not really the roar of the crowd. Not that I was out there often.
I had my alter to the Broncos football gods adorned around the TV and lived and died with every fleeting moment of that game. Having grown up in Northern California in the late 80s, I had reason to care as much as I did. I was teased and made fun of every day I donned my favorite Broncos gear. I used to tell myself I didn’t care, but I did care.
It mattered because winning a Super Bowl championship was one thing missing from my experience as a Broncos fan. I lived through the Mile High Magic and all of the drama having John Elway heroics, but the one thing that mattered seemed elusive.
So when that fourth down Brett Favre pass was knocked away by John Mobley, I screamed and I cried and I screamed some more. I didn’t stop until my voice was gone and there were no more tears left to give. It was the greatest moment of my life.
Of course, I went on to get married and have children of my own. It’s no longer even in the Top 5 moments of my life, but it remains the greatest sports moment I’ve ever experienced as a fan. And those of you who are about to share your story in the comments know exactly what I mean that.