The best game(s) of my life

          The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the Golden Gophers were one field goal away from beating the Michigan Wolverines at the Big House.  October 8, 2005.  A day I’ll never forget.  Cliché, I know.  But unless you were there, you really can’t understand the magnitude of the game.  Going into October, the Gophers were 4-1, picking up their only loss against Joe Paterno and his Nittany Lions.  That game wasn’t a surprise—what was a surprise was the fact that the Gophers had managed to secure dominating wins against Tulsa, Colorado State, and Florida Atlantic before taking down the Boilermakers in double overtime at the Metrodome.  We were on fire.  So when a friend suggested we make the fourteen-hour trek out to Ann Arbor, I easily jumped on board.

            We got into the foggy college town at 4 a.m., the whole town asleep in preparation for the big day ahead.  Yes, it was homecoming weekend—another reason why I had agreed to road-trip with nine rowdy college guys.  Everyone thought I was crazy, but really, how often do you get the chance to see your college team play in one of the best stadiums in the country during its homecoming?  Exactly.  Not often.

Walking into the Big House was an experience in itself.  The narrow tunnels leading into the stadium opened up into a sea of maize and blue, the whole stadium a buzz minutes before the game started.  There was no Teflon blocking out the sun, no markings left on the field from a baseball diamond.  It was college football the way it was meant to be.  On-campus.  Outside.  Pretty much perfect.

The game started off slowly with Michigan putting up just three in the first.  Minnesota countered with their own field goal in the second quarter, only to be followed closely by another Michigan field goal and a touchdown.  Luckily, Bryan Cupito found Ernie Wheelwright in the end-zone for a Minnesota touchdown to end the second quarter.  Halftime came and went, Michigan only leading by three. 

Starting off the third quarter with a 26-yard field goal, Giannini tied up the game 13 to 13.  Unfortunately, our cheers were short lived.  Just minutes into the third quarter, Steve Breaston ran a 95-yard kick return for a Michigan touchdown.  Our mob of maroon and gold fell silent as the rest of the stadium erupted, a sigh of relief passing through every Wolverine fan. 

We would get our redemption a few minutes later with a Laurence Maroney touchdown to tie the game.  Both at 20, Michigan missed two opportunities to pull ahead with bad field goals attempts, one in the third and one in the fourth.  After forcing the punt, Minnesota’s Gary Russell magically ran 61 yards down the sideline to set Giannini up for a 30-yard field goal attempt.  I nearly fell of the bleachers, I was cheering so hard.

At some point during Minnesota’s last possession, the scoreboard clock stopped working.  I remember the ref announcing that there were just 36 seconds left, then just eight, then just one.  As the Gophers set up to kick the winning field goal, I could barely watch.  I covered my face, cautiously peeking through my fingers to watch the ball sail through the air towards the goal posts.  It was good. 

I held my breath during Michigan’s final kickoff return.  Michigan tried to charge the ball ahead but couldn’t do anything with it and the Gophers wasted no time, running straight across the field to capture the elusive Little Brown Jug.  One of the oldest trophies in Division I football, the Gophers were on a sixteen year losing streak, capturing it the last time in 1986--the year I was born.  Needless to say, it felt pretty good to watch the Michigan fans flood out of the stadium, choosing to forgo their 5^th quarter homecoming tradition after our big win. 

During our long trek home the next day, we found out the Gophers had cracked the top 25, landing proudly at number 22.  We didn’t stay in the top 25 long, losing a heartbreaking border battle to Wisconsin at the Metrodome the next weekend.  But it didn’t matter.  We had the jug and I had been there to see it. 

Up until this week, that was the most exciting, nerve-wracking game I had ever seen first hand.  Up until, of course, Tuesday night.  October 6, 2009.  Another day I will never forget.  Four years after the Gophers upset Michigan at the Big House, the Minnesota Twins took away the Division title from the Detroit Tigers at the Metrodome—winning their last 17 out of 21 games.  From the upper deck of the Metrodome, I watched breathlessly as Alexi Casilla drove in Carlos Gomez to win the game in the bottom of the 12^th. 

I didn’t seem real then and even now, after having watched the Twins lose Game 1 to the Yankees, it still hasn’t set in.  Obviously, I’d sell my first born to see the Twins beat the Yankees and advance to the American League Championship.  I know it won’t be easy—I’ve come to terms with that.  But I’ve seen what our boys can do and I, like every other Twins fan, will be behind them until the end.  So keep that champagne and those 40s on ice, guys—because no matter what, this is a season to celebrate!

Let’s go Twins!!!