Who's Next

Where were you?

I can vividly remember the exact places I was during the defining victories in my career as a sports fan. We're talking down to the last bar stool, chair, or spot on the couch.

Game 6, 1986. I had barricaded myself in my room in my dad's house in Harrison, NY after Dave Henderson's home run off Rick Aguilera. I watched the entire 10th inning rally on a 10" black and white TV from the Johnson administration at the foot of my bed.

When the Knicks outlasted the Bulls in Game 5 of the 1994 Eastern Semis thanks to a little help from Hue Hollins, I was packed into the TV room in my dorm up at Vassar along with 5 other die hards, one Bulls fan, and about 50 other people who didn't really know what all the fuss was about.

When the Knicks finally toppled the Pacers to advance to the NBA Finals in 1994, I was on the couch in my mom's living room, hooting at Reggie Miller's flagrant foul on John Starks to seal it.

For Larry Johnson's 4-point play against those same Pacers in the 1998/99 Eastern Conference Finals, I was in a bar called Sutton Place going absolutely apeshit. I swear to God, I'm still buzzing about this one.

When Todd Pratt went yard off of Matt Mantei to end the 1999 NLDS, I was watching in a conference room in 30 Rockefeller Plaza at my old law firm. Working weekends sucks.

When Johnny Franco caught Barry Bonds looking to end Game 2 of the 2000 NLDS, I was at Bourbon Street on Amsterdam Avenue, where I had nearly destroyed one of the bar stools after JT Snow had tied it with a 3-run blast off of Benitez in the 9th.

When the Giants absolutely throttled the Vikings in the 2001 NFC Championship Game, I was watching in my dad's time-share in Beaver Creek, Colorado. I certainly didn't ski that day.

So where was I when the 2006 Metropolitans finally, officially accomplished something that they haven't done in 18 years -- something no one but the Braves has done since the dawn of time -- and sewed up the NL East? Of course, I was at Madison Square Garden, watching The Who tear through "Baba O'Reilly."

Tom and I were lucky enough to watch the first 3 innings from a BBQ joint across from the Garden, where we saw Zorro's first blast. We saw Zorro's second blast at a concession stand outside section 341 while the opening act warbled on inside.

The Who went on in the top of the 7th, so we settled in our seats with plans to make frequent score checks on our cell phones, and to hightail it back to the hot dog stand after the first out in the top of the 9th. Well, the top of the 9th came just as the majestic opening strains of "Baba" engulfed the entire Garden, so we weren't going anywhere. (Sadly, this came after a new 6-song mini-opera that would've been a perfect opportunity to duck out and watch the last inning, had it been played 10 minutes later. Oh well). Screaming "teenage wasteland!!!!" while hitting "refresh" on one's phone is an interesting experience to say the least.

Hardly ideal circumstances, but Tom and I will certainly always remember where we were for this one.

By the way, best songs last night: Baba, You Better You Bet, Eminence Front, Won't Get Fooled Again, and an amazing Tommy encore consisting of Amazing Journey, Sparks, and Listening to You. The Who still fucking rocks, people.

So let's all kick back for a few weeks, and gear up for October. I may scale back the posting just a bit to re-charge my batteries, but you better believe you'll be getting some Tolstoy-esque masterpieces come October 3.

We're all WASTED!!!