ESPN's Top 100 Moments of past 25 years

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Hey did you know it's ESPN's 25th Anniversary this year? Yes I know they don't tell us enough. Anyways they are jumping on the cable t.v. list bandwagon where the results are never pretty. Over the next 100 days (or less than 100 days since it already started) they are counting down their "100 Most Memorable Moments of the Past 25 Years." Here is the list so far.

 

100: Twins win epic Game 7 duel with Braves

 

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

Four games in this World Series were decided on the final pitch of the game -- including Game 7. Five were determined in the game's final at-bat -- including Game 7. Five games were decided by one run -- including Game 7. And three of the games went extra innings -- including, yes, Game 7.

 

There was really nothing like it. Ever.In 88 World Series, nothing had come close to this, the mother of all World Series -- the Atlanta Braves vs. the Minnesota Twins, the 1991 World Series. Ultimate drama and suspense, joy and despair, all climaxed by a Game 7 showdown.

 

THE MOMENT

October 27, 1991, Sunday, Minneapolis Metrodome, grizzled veteran Jack Morris vs. young gun John Smoltz, Game 7 of the World Series -- made possible only by the Game 6 brilliance of one Kirby Puckett, who singled, tripled, climbed up the Metrodome's plexiglas panel to rob Ron Gant of a run-scoring extra-base hit, drove in a run with a sacrifice fly, stole a base, and then sent 55,155 into a frenzy by hammering a game-winning leadoff home run in the bottom of the 11th that tied up the Series 3-all.

 

Here now, in Game 7, Morris and Smoltz are locked up in a mesmerizing, seat-squirming scoreless duel. Both clubs had chances to break the stalemate in the eighth inning. Both loaded the bases with less than two outs. But both failed to score as both threats were snuffed out with double plays.

 

As we go to the bottom of the 10th inning, the Twins' fans rise as one as the dependable, clutch-hitting, rally-igniting Dan Gladden walks to the plate. He has two of the six hits off the brilliant and masterful Smoltz, and now he faces Braves closer Alejandro Pena. Gladden starts off the inning by lofting a broken-bat flyball to left-center. The ball drops in for a hit, then takes a huge bounce off the carpet, enabling Gladden, his long blond hair flapping on his shoulders, to hustle into second base for a standup double.

 

The 'Dome crowd goes mad, frantically waving their white "Homer Hankies" as Gladden, the potential World Series winning run, stands atop second base, clapping, encouraging his teammates to end it right here, right now, in the 10th.

 

"I knew the ball was going to land in between the outfielders," Gladden would say later of his clutch hit, "and I knew it was going to bounce high off the turf. So when I hit it, I got out of the box pretty good. I was just being aggressive. That's the only way I know how to play."

 

Twins second baseman Chuck Knoblauch, the electrifying rookie, sacrifices Gladden to third. Braves manager Bobby Cox orders Pena to walk Puckett and Kent Hrbek intentionally, loading the bases for pinch-hitter Gene Larkin. As a college player, Larkin had broken all of Lou Gehrig's records at Columbia University, but he had yet to distinguish himself as an everyday player in the majors.

 

This is the moment every major-league player dreams of, the moment every minor leaguer dreams of, the moment every kid throughout America dreams of while playing in the back yard.

 

Larkin, a switch-hitter batting left-handed against Pena, is hitting for only the fourth time in the Series and for only the seventh time in the Twins' breathtaking postseason run. All three Atlanta outfielders move in, playing close enough to catch a bloop and have the opportunity to throw out Gladden at the plate on a short flyball to prevent him from scoring and ending this incredible championship series.

 

Pena glares in at the sign, goes to the belt, winds and delivers a fastball ... Larkin takes a rip at the first pitch and lofts a fly to left-center ... As soon as Braves left fielder Brian Hunter turns and runs backward, everyone knows it's over. The ball sails over Hunter's head and as Gladden trots home, thrusting his arms into the air, he jumps on home plate with both feet, and the wild celebration at the Metrodome begins.

 

The Dome quakes as Morris and the other Twins leap out of the dugout and jubilantly dance toward home plate to smother Gladden and then Larkin, a member of a select group of athletes to deliver the final championship blow, a memory of a lifetime.

 

Later, Larkin would say of his at-bat, "I knew a fastball was coming. I just wanted to make contact and hit a fly ball. As soon as I hit it, I knew the game was over and that we could relax and enjoy the world championship."

 

It was only the second extra-inning seventh game ever and only the second 1-0 seventh game ever, an epic result that Morris called "a classic, a flat-out beautiful ballgame." Morris, himself, was brilliant, throwing all 10 innings, shutting the Braves out on seven hits.

 

The entire Series was unforgettable, from game-winning home runs by the Twins' Greg Gagne in Game 1 and by Scott Leius in Game 2, to the Braves' David Justice racing home on Mark Lemke's 12th-inning hit to win Game 3 and then Lemke sliding his hand across the plate to win Game 4 to Puckett's catch and home run in Game 6.

 

"You get the feeling sometimes that if the Yankees or Red Sox aren't in the World Series it can't be a classic," Justice would say years later. "But that Series in '91 was a true classic. People talk about it all the time. I mean, come on -- four games decided on the final pitch, three go extra innings, five were won in either our last at-bat or theirs, a 1-0 Game 7. I mean, come on, That's amazing."

99: Dr. J hits impossible reverse layup in '80 Finals

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

With extraordinary body control, a supernatural ability to hang in the air, long arms and steel-springed legs, Julius Erving illustrated an array of ways to dunk over 7-footers and spin in layups, even when he was pinned between the baseline and a defender or two. He floated in the air, waiting for an opening to glide through, stretch his long arms and descend toward the rim like a plane landing.

 

Starting in the ABA, and then with the Philadelphia 76ers, Dr. J would swoop to the basket with the ball resting at the end of his fully extended arm and size 11 hand, hanging in the air, contorting his body at ungodly, impossible positions. He played the game in a different dimension, swiftly dribbling and running and leaping to create miraculous shots that only the imagination could conceive.

 

Perhaps his greatest, most gravity-defying moment came in closing minutes of a closely contested Game 4 of the 1980 NBA Finals against the Los Angeles Lakers in Philadelphia.

 

THE MOMENT

Erving receives the ball on the right side of the court, and he beats Mark Landsberger to the baseline. Cradling the ball, he rises toward the rim. Lakers center Kareem Abdul-Jabbar moves quickly to block Erving's path, looking to slam the shot away, alter it, or at least foul Erving and send him to the line.

 

But Erving keeps gliding in midair, sliding beyond Abdul-Jabaar and improvising as he goes. He carries himself to the other side of the rim, the left corner of the backboard, from where he can reach his long right arm back toward the basket and then he somehow, someway, flip in a reverse layup. The move stuns everyone in the arena and ultimately helps the Sixers knock off L.A., 105-103.

 

"I couldn't believe my eyes," says Lakers guard Magic Johnson, whose mouth actually dropped after witnessing Erving's basket. "It's still the greatest move I've ever seen in a basketball game, the all-time greatest."

 

Before MJ, there was Dr. J.

 

Julius Erving transformed the game into a vertical showcase of expression and creativity. Through Erving, the game became one of midair artistry, sheer beauty.

 

Before Julius, there was "the stuff," a basket made by the NBA's big men who simply and easily jammed the ball through the net, an act of average force that didn't require any grace whatsoever. Just height. But through Erving, "the stuff" was transformed into "the slam dunk," universally changing a shot into a strikingly beautiful acrobatic act of ballet-like beauty and grace. Just like his shot against the Lakers in Game 4 of the '80 Finals, a shot that lives forever in NBA history

.

98: Jack Buck's tribute to America

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

Six days had passed since the horrific, unspeakable terrorist attack that took the lives of more than 3,500 people and destroyed extraordinary buildings in ugly clouds of black and gray dust and ash.

 

Only six days had passed, and the world was no longer the same. For certain, America was no longer the same. Hearts were heavy. There was still disbelief in the air. Sadness too. Fear and anger, as well.

 

But life, at some point, had to return to some kind of normalcy. The anger and sadness felt for the families of the victims, for all the heroes of 9/11, will never subside, ever, but life still had to go on. Family beckoned. Work and chores too. Living life as it should be, the way it's supposed to be.

 

The entertainment and sports world had to get back to work too. People had to start laughing again, even though it hurt a little, even made you feel a little guilty. Sports was needed, only if to take your mind off that unforgettable day of horror, despair and helplessness.

 

THE MOMENT

It's September 17, 2001. Baseball returns. In St. Louis, the Cardinals prepare to take the field against the Milwaukee Brewers. Sadness permeates the air. Broken hearts need mending.

 

Everyone in the stadium, all 32,563 fans, wave small American flags. Nearly 500 firefighters and police officers line the warning track from the left field line to first base, honoring the heroes who perished six days earlier. There are tears in their eyes, emptiness in their eyes.

 

As firefighters unfurl a huge American flag in center field, a video tribute plays on the scoreboard accompanied by the beautifully chilling Lee Greenwood song, "Proud to be an American."

 

Then longtime Cardinals Hall of Fame broadcaster Jack Buck, wearing a bright red jacket with an American flag pin on his lapel, strolls to the microphone. There is total silence in the huge stadium. Buck is shaking because of his infirmities and the emotion of the night, the despondency of the moment. He looks out at the crowd, normally a sea of red but on this night it is a pulsating, patriotic sea of red, white, and blue.

 

Buck reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He leans forward, puts his lips to the microphone and begins reading a poem, a moving, spectacularly heartwarming and patriotic poem that he wrote.

 

"Since this nation was founded ... under God

More than 200 years ago

We have been the bastion of freedom

The light that keeps the free world aglow

We do not covet the possessions of others

We are blessed with the bounty we share.

 

 

We have rushed to help other nations

... anything ... anytime ... anywhere.

 

War is just not our nature

We won't start ... but we will end the fight

If we are involved we shall be resolved

To protect what we know is right.

 

We have been challenged by a cowardly foe

Who strikes and then hides from our view.

 

With one voice we say, "There is no choice today,

There is only one thing to do.

 

Everyone is saying -- the same thing -- and praying

That we end these senseless moments we are living.

 

As our fathers did before ... we shall win this unwanted war

And our children ... will enjoy the future ... we'll be giving."

 

His voice cracks as he utters the final words of the poem. His eyes are watery. So are the eyes of everyone in the stadium. Tears are shed. Then, following a poignant "21-gun" salute sprinkled with exploding fireworks above the stadium, the game begins with players wearing U.S. flags on their jerseys, helmets and caps.

97: Fridge breaks through in primetime

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

The moment had finally arrived for Mike Ditka -- the moment to gain a measure of revenge over the San Francisco 49ers and their coach Bill Walsh.

 

During the 1984 NFC Championship Game, the innovative Walsh used 264-pound guard Guy McIntyre as a blocking back on the goal line in the Niners' victory over the Bears. The move surprised Ditka, who silently vowed that he would get back at Walsh and the Niners.

 

All it took was a few months -- and Ditka even took it a step further, just to show Walsh that he too was a pretty good offensive strategist. Of course, it took getting the right player, and Ditka had the right player in a 325-pound rookie defensive lineman named William "The Refrigerator" Perry, the Bears' No. 1 selection in the 1985 NFL Draft.

 

The next time the 49ers and Bears met, in October of 1985, Ditka put his spherical rookie in the backfield -- and he put him there not as just a blocking back but as a running back -- a 325-pound running back with quickness and athleticism who put fear in the minds of all players on the defensive side with his ability to plow through and over linebackers, safeties and corners.

 

The Fridge, as he was affectionately called, had two carries in the game against the 49ers. Neither was on the goal line. Neither went for more than two yards. But both times, Perry "moved the pile" as if it had been bulldozed. That performance was a prelude to the next game, eight days later, on Monday Night Football against the Bears' arch rivals, the Green Bay Packers.

 

THE MOMENT

October 21, 1985, Soldier Field, Chicago. The stadium is rocking as the undefeated, Super Bowl-bound Bears burst onto the field to take on the struggling Packers before a nationwide Monday night audience. As soon as the Bears go on offense following the opening kickoff, the crowd of 65,095 begins chanting, "Perry! Perry!"

 

This is a shock because the Bears' primary offensive weapon happens to be the one and only Walter Payton, considered by many to be the greatest back in NFL history, and one of the most loved and respected athletes not only in Chicago but nationally because of his all-world ability, personality and infectious smile.

 

With 13:41 left in the second quarter, the Bears put together an efficient drive and bring the ball down to the goal line. Once again, the chant begins -- "Perry! Perry!" To the delight of the crowd, the 325-pound, 23-year-old rookie rolls off the sideline, onto the field and into the huddle, prompting a mad roar from the capacity crowd.

 

As the Bears break the huddle, Perry lines up behind quarterback Jim McMahon and in front of Payton. McMahon takes the snap, and as Perry rolls past him and slams into the line, moving it like a bulldozer, Payton takes the handoff. Perry flattens everything in his path, including Packers linebacker George Cumby, creating a gap so wide that Payton is able waltz into the end zone. "I felt like I was stealing a touchdown because I literally walked into the end zone," Payton would say later. "I could tell I really rung his bell," a smiling Perry says later of his hit on Cumby. His philosophy is simply: "Just knock down everyone in my way," he says later, nonchalantly.

 

The crowd is delirious, knowing their team has discovered a weapon that no defense will be able to stop, as he blocks for Payton. But they want to see Perry carry the ball, not just open up Grand Canyon holes for Payton. Moments later, while still riding the momentum of Payton's touchdown, Bears linebacker Wilber Marshall picks off a pass, and McMahon again moves the Bears to the goal line, prompting the fans to call out again for Perry. Seconds later, the Fridge emerges from the sidelines, causing another thunderous roar from the crowd.

 

McMahon brings the Bears to the line. The crowd rises. McMahon takes the snap and Perry explodes and lunges forward. McMahon turns and instead of faking the handoff to Perry, he gives him the ball. Perry slams into the line. As the crowd gasps, Perry knocks a pair of Packers backwards and off to the side, running easily into the end zone. As the Bears begin to celebrate, Perry spikes the ball so hard he nearly flattens it.

 

Soldier Field is a madhouse as fans stand, applaud, hug and high-five each other. Perry jubilantly runs off the field, the sporting world's newest overnight sensation, the most publicized rookie in the history of the league.

 

Not since George Halas unveiled the T-formation has anything caused such commotion in Chicago football. Perry's TD run illuminates an otherwise horrific football game. The Bears fumble seven times and lose four of them. The Packers use three quarterbacks who wind up throwing four interceptions. The Bears win easily, 23-7, to improve to 8-0. But all the talk, locally and nationally, is about The Fridge, who ran for most exciting one yard in NFL history.

 

Bears linebacker Jim Morrissey tells the media that "Fridge is knocking more guys out of the league than the drug policy." Says Payton: "He's so wide that nobody expects him to hit with such speed and effectiveness."

 

He is too big to surround, too strong to knock over, impossible to tackle. No longer a whim but an authentic weapon, Perry emerges as Ditka's goal-line offense. "We'll keep on using him," Ditka tells the football world, "until somebody gets someone bigger than him to plug up the hole."

 

They began calling it the "P-Formation" -- P as in Perry.

96: One strike away, Hendu saves Sox, denies Angels

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

He was lost, out of synch, overmatched. He calls it one of those "bizarre and numbing" instances when the body and mind simply aren't functioning in unison. He stood at home plate, the biggest at-bat of the game, the biggest at-bat of the season, the biggest at-bat of his lifetime, for goodness sakes, and he couldn't even think, let alone think straight. "It was like I wasn't even there," Dave Henderson says, years later. "Like my body was in one place and my mind was in another."

 

With the Boston Red Sox one strike away from losing the 1986 American League Championship Series to the Angels, and adding yet another chapter of misery and heartbreak to the franchise's never-ending book of pain and disappointment, Henderson looked absolutely pathetic against Angels right-handed closer Donnie Moore, flailing insipidly at a combination of splitters and fastballs. The jam-packed stadium of 64,223 people screamed, anticipating the final out of a series that would crown the Angels champions of the American League for the first time in their 25-year history.

 

"I was thinking, 'What are you doing? Get it together already,'" Henderson says. He was already experiencing a nightmare of a day -- actually a nightmare of a series, season and career. He was a reserve outfielder for most of the early portion of his career, a mediocre player who sometimes gave the impression he didn't care. He was considered a classic underachiever. And the Seattle Mariners couldn't take it any longer, so after 5½ seasons they dealt him to the Red Sox for the '86 stretch run. He hit .196 in 36 games for Boston.

 

THE MOMENT

When the curtain rolls up for Game 5 of the ALCS on October 12, Henderson is in his usual place -- on the bench. But when Tony Armas, the Red Sox' starting center fielder, suffers a leg injury, manager John McNamara has no alternative but to call on the least effective player on his roster: Dave Henderson.

 

Shortly after Henderson's entrance, disaster strikes for him and for Boston: the Angels' Bobby Grich launches a deep drive to center field that Henderson snags on the run. But when he slams into the wall, the ball comes loose and drops over the fence for a two-run home run that gives the Angels a 3-2 lead. "I wanted to bury myself," Henderson says.

 

When Henderson walks to the plate to face Moore in the ninth, the Angels are just one out away from a 5-4 win, the Sox have a runner on base, and the stadium is ready to explode in wild celebration. Henderson is in a daze, a confused state of mind. He is also hitless in the series. Moore, meanwhile, is in deep physical pain -- his right shoulder had been injected with a shot of cortisone the day before -- yet his fastball has unusual zip; he is working on pure heart and emotion in the electricity of the moment. His splitter, however, is his out pitch, and because of the shoulder pain, it doesn't have its normal devastating drop.

 

Henderson feels fortunate to have worked the count to 2-and-2, considering his feeble swings. But then, as Moore spins around and releases another splitter, Henderson's psyche changes. His focus somehow appears, however briefly. As the pitch rolls toward the plate, hanging a bit, Henderson quickly flicks his wrist at a pitch that is down and away. He connects -- solidly. Time freezes. All eyes watch the flight of the ball. The Angels, standing on the top step of the dugout, ready to storm the field in celebration, their necks craned, watch the flight of the ball. This is the defining moment for Henderson, Moore, Angels manager Gene Mauch, and Angels owner Gene Autry, a moment in time that alters careers, franchises and lives.

 

Just when you think the ball is going to settle into the glove of Angels left fielder Brian Downing, it somehow keeps sailing, as if some force or power is directing it ... and as Downing runs out of room, he buries his face into the outfield wall as the ball descends into the stands. Home run. 6-5, Red Sox.

 

As a deafening stillness falls over Anaheim, Henderson jumps and twirls his body around in the air in one breathless motion and begins a home-run trot that ultimately turns him into a Boston folk legend.

 

The home run makes quite an impact on baseball history:

 

It is baseball's most dramatic, most stunning home run since Pittsburgh's Bill Mazeroski hit a bottom-of-the-ninth, World Series-winning home run in Game 7 in 1960 against the New York Yankees;

 

It effectively ends Moore's life: unable to deal with the catastrophic memory of giving up the home run, Moore winds up putting a bullet through his skull three years later;

 

It is the highlight of what turns out to be not only perhaps the greatest ninth inning in major-league history but also a game many consider to be one of the two or three greatest ever, an 11-inning 7-6 Red Sox win in which Henderson drives in the deciding run on a sacrifice fly against Moore;

 

It forever prevents the highly respected Mauch from shedding the label "greatest manager in history to never make it to a World Series";

 

It ultimately sends the beloved Autry to his grave without a World Series title;

 

It is the prelude to one of the greatest collapses in baseball history, as the Angels lose the final two games of the series by a combined score of 18-5, adding more misery to the cursed franchise;

 

It completely alters Henderson's career. He goes on to hit .400 in the 1986 World Series with two homers and Henderson goes on to become a feared hitter who winds up playing in four World Series in a span of five years (1986, 1988, 1989 and 1990) for Boston and Oakland.

 

It sets the stage for Game 6 of the World Series, in which Henderson's home run in the 10th inning gives the Red Sox a lead over the Mets, which they surrender in the bottom of the inning. "People bring up the home run all the time, and I still think about it a lot," he says. "How can I not think about it? It changed my life. It turned my career around. I'm not exactly sure where it ranks among the greatest and most dramatic home runs, but I know it's right up there with Bobby Thomson, Bill Mazeroski, Carlton Fisk, Kirk Gibson and Joe Carter. I always thought of Thomson's as the biggest or Mazeroski's and even Carter's because they won a pennant and World Series. But mine," he says, "is up there."

 

Way, way up there.

95: Clemens flings shattered bat at Piazza

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

From the moment it became a reality, from the moment the city of New York realized it had a Subway Series on its hands, the dominant subplot on the airways, on the subways, in the taxis, on TV, on Wall Street and on Broadway, was Clemens vs. Piazza. That's it. Clemens vs. Piazza, Piazza vs. Clemens. Nothing else.

 

This was the moment for which New York had been waiting, wishing and dreaming. The Rematch of The Confrontation: Rocket vs. Mike, the Yankees' future Hall of Fame starting pitcher vs. the Mets' future Hall of Fame catcher. This was pure theater, the ultimate anticipated event.

 

The last time they had met, in July of 2000, only three months earlier, Clemens buried a fastball into Piazza's skull. Everyone in the Mets' organization and their fans were fuming. Everyone on the other side of this equation was stunned & and a bit worried about the form of retaliation & and when it would arrive.

 

So when the Mets and Yankees won their respective pennants, the stage was set for Clemens vs. Piazza II in Game 2 of the World Series at Yankee Stadium.

 

THE MOMENT

When Roger Clemens arrives at the stadium, he is extremely intense, highly focused and uncharacteristically nervous. All week long, all he's heard, all he's been asked about, is Mike Piazza. He plays it down each and every time, but considering the magnitude of the event and the situation, Clemens is buzzing with more intensity than he had ever experienced before on his day to pitch.

 

While receiving a rubdown in the clubhouse before the game, Clemens is breathing heavily, like a wild bull preparing to bust through the gate. He tries to calm himself down, reminding himself to stay cool and under control. But he can't get Piazza out of his mind and the manner in which he intends to pitch to him.

 

He tells himself, "Should I go up and in on him?" That is, after all, the way Clemens has approached every previous confrontation with Piazza. Not that it worked very well. Piazza is a .578 hitter against Clemens, which is why it is imperative for Clemens to pitch him tight & yet it's also the reason many people think Clemens, an accused headhunter, purposely hit Piazza in the head three months earlier. So as Clemens ponders whether he should go up and in on Piazza in the first inning of tonight's game, he immediately thinks, "What happens if one gets away?" He knows all hell will break loose.

 

When Clemens takes the mound in the top of the first, he's in a zone and the stadium is abuzz. He's locked in. He's throwing consistently in the high 90s. He whiffs leadoff man Timo Perez with a 97-mph fastball, then gets Edgardo Alfonzo to fan on a sick 94-mph splitter. Next up is Piazza.

 

The sequence is surreal as Clemens blows a 97-mph fastball past Piazza for a strike. Then another. Then he unleashes a splitter for a ball. The next pitch is a blazing fastball that tails in on Piazza's hands. He swings and boom! -- the bat explodes into three pieces. The handle stays in Piazza's hands. The middle of the bat flies into foul territory off the first-base side. The barrel, the biggest part of the jagged bat, bounces to the left side of the infield, between the mound and first base.

 

Clemens rushes in to field what he thinks is the ball. At least that's what he says later. Then, to the astonishment of millions of people, once he realizes it's a piece of a bat, and not the ball, Clemens angrily flings the bat toward foul territory on the first-base side -- right in the path of Piazza, who is running toward first. Piazza is stunned, confused and a little disoriented because of all the flying bat pieces, yet he is certain Clemens is throwing the bat purposely at him. A stunned Piazza begins walking toward Clemens with a perplexed expression. "What's your problem?" Piazza yells.

 

The moment becomes highly intense as the space between the two players rapidly closes. But Clemens, refusing to acknowledge Piazza, walks toward home plate, telling umpire Charlie Reliford, "Give me a ball." Meanwhile, as both dugouts empty, Reliford stands between the players, keeping order out of the potential chaos. Piazza, maintaining his composure under the most bizarre of inflammable situations, returns to home plate and Clemens returns to the mound.

 

On the next pitch, Piazza grounds out to second, and Clemens races off the mound, into the dugout, up the runway and into the clubhouse. His emotions were running so high that he had to find a way to calm himself down. Clemens goes on to pitch a brilliant eight shutout innings, allowing just two hits, yet the Mets rally for a stunning five runs in the ninth, but fall a run short and lose, 6-5. Yet everything on this night and even the rest of the World Series, which the Yankees win in five games, is secondary to Clemens-Piazza II.

94: Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

Unlike Carl Lewis and Daley Thompson, Derek Redmond is not a name that conjures up memories of Olympic gold medals. But it is Redmond who defines the essence of the human spirit.

 

Redmond arrived at the 1992 Olympic Summer Games in Barcelona determined to win a medal in the 400. The color of the medal was meaningless; he just wanted to win one. Just one.

 

He had been forced to withdraw from the 400 at the 1988 Games in Seoul, only 10 minutes before the race, because of an Achilles tendon injury. He then underwent five surgeries over the next year. This was the same runner who had shattered the British 400-meter record at age 19. So when the 1992 Games arrived, this was his time, his moment, his stage, to show the world how good he was and who he was.

 

Derek's father Jim had accompanied him to Barcelona, just as he did for all world competitions. They were as close as a father and son could be. Inseparable, really. The best of friends. When Derek ran, it was as if his father were running right next to him.

 

THE MOMENT

The day of the race arrives. Father and son reminisce about what it took for Derek to get to this point. They talk about ignoring past heartbreaks, past failures. They agree that if anything bad happens, no matter what it is, Derek has to finish the race, period.

 

The top four finishers in each of the two semifinal heats qualify for the Olympic final. As race time approaches for the semifinal 400 heat, Jim heads up to his seat at the top of Olympic Stadium, not far from where the Olympic torch was lit just a few days earlier. He is wearing a T-shirt that reads, "Have you hugged your foot today?"

 

The stadium is packed with 65,000 fans, bracing themselves for one of sport's greatest and most exciting spectacles. The race begins and Redmond breaks from the pack and quickly seizes the lead. "Keep it up, keep it up," Jim says to himself.

 

Down the backstretch, only 175 meters away from finishing, Redmond is a shoo-in to make the finals. Suddenly, he hears a pop. In his right hamstring. He pulls up lame, as if he had been shot.

 

"Oh, no," Jim says to himself. His face pales. His leg quivering, Redmond begins hopping on one leg, then slows down and falls to the track. As he lays on the track, clutching his right hamstring, a medical personnel unit runs toward him. At the same time, Jim Redmond, seeing his son in trouble, races down from the top row of the stands, sidestepping people, bumping into others. He has no credential to be on the track, but all he thinks about is getting to his son, to help him up. "I wasn't going to be stopped by anyone," he later tells the media.

 

On the track, Redmond realizes his dream of an Olympic medal is gone. Tears run down his face. "All I could think was, 'I'm out of the Olympics -- again,'" he would say.

 

As the medical crew arrives with a stretcher, Redmond tells them, "No, there's no way I'm getting on that stretcher. I'm going to finish my race."

 

Then, in a moment that will live forever in the minds of millions, Redmond lifts himself to his feet, ever so slowly, and starts hobbling down the track. The other runners have finished the race, with Steve Lewis of the U.S. winning the contest in 44.50. Suddenly, everyone realizes that Redmond isn't dropping out of the race by hobbling off to the side of the track. No, he is actually continuing on one leg. He's going to attempt to hobble his way to the finish line. All by himself. All in the name of pride and heart.

 

Slowly, the crowd, in total disbelief, rises and begins to roar. The roar gets louder and louder. Through the searing pain, Redmond hears the cheers, but "I wasn't doing it for the crowd," he would later say. "I was doing it for me. Whether people thought I was an idiot or a hero, I wanted to finish the race. I'm the one who has to live with it."

 

One painful step at a time, each one a little slower and more painful than the one before, his face twisted with pain and tears, Redmond limps onward, and the crowd, many in tears, cheer him on.

 

Suddenly, Jim Redmond finally gets to the bottom of the stands, leaps over the railing, avoids a security guard, and runs out to his son, with two security people chasing after him. "That's my son out there," he yells back to security, "and I'm going to help him."

 

Finally, with Derek refusing to surrender and painfully limping along the track, Jim reaches his son at the final curve, about 120 meters from the finish, and wraps his arm around his waist.

 

"I'm here, son," Jim says softly, hugging his boy. "We'll finish together." Derek puts his arms around his father's shoulders and sobs.

 

Together, arm in arm, father and son, with 65,000 people cheering, clapping and crying, finish the race, just as they vowed they would. A couple steps from the finish line, and with the crowd in an absolute frenzy, Jim releases the grip he has on his son, so Derek could cross the finish line by himself. Then he throws his arms around Derek again, both crying, along with everyone in the stands and on TV.

 

"I'm the proudest father alive," he tells the press afterwards, tears in his eyes. "I'm prouder of him than I would have been if he had won the gold medal. It took a lot of guts for him to do what he did."

[TheOriginalOrangeGoblin 0]

BOLD~! prediction:

 

#1 is Jordan over Russell and Boone eliminating BoSox last year is top 10.

[Guest Choken One]

#1). Jordan's push off russel for three pointer that wasn't even the decisive finish in the game (espn doesn't mention there was still 20 seconds left)

[Guest Smues]

Clemen's throwing the bat made the list? What in the holy hell?

[Bored 0]

Chalk that up to it happened in New York so it's overrated.

 

You know what's so funny already is that they put one of the greatest World Series games, in one of the greatest World Series ever just barely on the list and it's already below trivial moments like the Fridge's touchdown (more people probably remember is Super Bowl td anyways) and Clemens throwing the bat.

 

I do like Hendu's homerun being on the list (although should have been higher) since it arguably did lead to Donnie Moore's suicide. Sometimes sports is a matter of life and death.

[Guest webmasterofwrestlegame]

Is this just going to be entirely based on American sport in America like every other Top X list in history to come out of America?

[Bored 0]

Well since it's Americans doing the list so wouldn't they mainly be focused on American sports or at least North America? Sorry don't expect many soccer/football moments beyond the overrated '99 Women's World Cup team moment which will probably crack the Top 10 since it's ESPN.

 

Anyways moment #94 involves an athlete from Great Britain...although the article actually fails to point that out.

[TheOriginalOrangeGoblin 0]

Redmond's British? By the article I thought he was American.

[Hogan Made Wrestling 0]

Since it's ESPN it will probably all be American stuff and mostly NFL/MLB/NBA along with some US Olympic moments like Miracle on Ice. You might see the Tour de France on there, and one moment that I would say is a darkhorse to get on is Hermann Maier's super-crash from the 1998 Olympic downhill, which is probably the most famous moment of those Olympics and a pretty well-known visual (got the cover of SI, for instance).

[EVIL~! alkeiper 0]

Jack Buck beating the 1991 World Series is nonsense. Who the hell really remembers that speech as a great sporting moment?

 

Miracle on Ice is an easy, non-controversial #1.

[The Czech Republic 0]

America will freak if hockey gets the top spot. It's #3 at best behind Jordan's second last shot ever and the Patriots winning after September 11th. Hey, I didn't say it SHOULD be that way.

 

 

I wonder what will get mentioned for NHL. 1993 Stanley Cup was a big deal, you had the Canadiens and Kings coming out of the middle of the divisions culiminating in Patrick Roy vs. Wayne Gretzky. New York '94 will probably get mentioned, as will Detroit '98 when they dedicated the win to Konstantinov.

[EVIL~! alkeiper 0]

Not being an NHL fan (but not a hater), I could probably give decent perspective. I think Messier and the Rangers is probably the top moment the NHL would mention, besides whatever moments Gretzky holds to his credit.

[Guest Choken One]

America wouldn't freak about that at all...

 

It's still America the "underdog" beating the Soviets.

 

Nobody cares that it was hockey related...

[razazteca 0]

Is Jordon kicking Craig Ehlo in the head after winning the game on the list?

[Bored 0]

Jack Buck beating the 1991 World Series is nonsense. Who the hell really remembers that speech as a great sporting moment?

Just the typical p.c. ESPN pick, not that anyone would have noticed if it hadn't been included on the list. It won't be the the last 9/11 related moment on the list.

 

I'm interested to see if they'll have McGwire breaking the homerun record higher on the list than Bonds breaking it, which it should be since the McGwire/Sosa chase was ten times more memorable than the Bonds' chase and was 37 years in the making. My guess is they'll go the p.c. rout and have Bonds ranked higher which will go nice with their current policy to coddle Bonds.

 

I'm also dreading the placement of the Derek Jeter/Jeremy Giambi play. I know those assholes are going to put it at least in the Top 20.

[Guest Smues]

I'm hoping this list was made before the .4 second shot of death or it'll be on there and I really don't feel like yelling and screaming about it again.

[Steve J. Rogers 0]

Chalk that up to it happened in New York so it's overrated.

 

You know what's so funny already is that they put one of the greatest World Series games, in one of the greatest World Series ever just barely on the list and it's already below trivial moments like the Fridge's touchdown (more people probably remember is Super Bowl td anyways) and Clemens throwing the bat.

 

I do like Hendu's homerun being on the list (although should have been higher) since it arguably did lead to Donnie Moore's suicide. Sometimes sports is a matter of life and death.

Fox is allready running promos hyping Clemens-Piazza as the potential NL ASG battery

 

Of course thats Fox's retarded promo department.

 

Thank GOD it was local when the Mets and Astros played last month in Houston is all I have to say about the way Fox over overhypes its games

 

Steve

[Guest Anglesault]

Games four and five of the 01 World Series will be up high.

 

On a side note, 01 is the one time the Yankees failed me and I wasn't furious, but very sad.

[Agent_Bond34 0]

(espn doesn't mention there was still 20 seconds left)

Because there wasn't 20 seconds left.

 

More along the lines of 9.6 seconds or less left, after that shot was made.

[The Czech Republic 0]

America wouldn't freak about that at all...

 

It's still America the "underdog" beating the Soviets.

 

Nobody cares that it was hockey related...

I'd like to think it would go over, but you can't think there's not a contingent of people who would be pissed off if it wasn't football or baseball, or even basketball.

[Guest Choken One]

Then why did so many americans go see the movie if we hate hockey so fucking much then?

[EVIL~! alkeiper 0]

I do like Hendu's homerun being on the list (although should have been higher) since it arguably did lead to Donnie Moore's suicide. Sometimes sports is a matter of life and death.

 

Just as a matter of sport its an amazing moment. The Angels had a three run lead, with three outs to go. Up three games to one, on their way to their first World Series, and they collapsed. That Dave Henderson made up for letting a home run bounce off his glove made it sweeter.

[Gert T 0]

What will the other non-playing moments be? I gotta think Mo Cheeks helping the girl sing the anthem will be in there, possibly Rose & Simpson stories or is this strictly athletic events?

[Guest Choken One]

Earnhardt's Death will get a spot...

[The Czech Republic 0]

Then why did so many americans go see the movie if we hate hockey so fucking much then?

Well I know people would be let down by hockey getting #1. And I'm a hockey fan. I think it should be, I'm just skeptical of its acceptance from everyone else.

 

And besides. It's ESPN. #1 is gonna be Jordan or Bonds, not Neal Broten.

[Hogan Made Wrestling 0]

ESPN has already previously picked the Miracle on Ice as the #1 sporting moment of the 20th century, a few years ago at the ESPY awards.

 

Speaking of which, Bob Beamon's super-jump has got to make that list somewhere.

[Red Baron 0]

Somewhere along the lines where America beats Canada in the 1998 Winter Olympics in Hockey, and the 1996 World Cup of Hockey as well.

[Red Baron 0]

I also wonder if ESPN will place Toronto winning back to back World Series...or some mention of that at all, most likely Joe Carter homerun against Mitch Williams

[Hogan Made Wrestling 0]

Somewhere along the lines where America beats Canada in the 1998 Winter Olympics in Hockey, and the 1996 World Cup of Hockey as well.

Uhh, Canada beat the USA in 1998, and didn't play them in the medal round. The Czech Republic eliminated the USA that year.

 

The Czech Republic's win in those Olympics was probably the most compelling story of any major international hockey tournament in the last decade or so.

[Vern Gagne 0]

The list will be extremly slanted towards the East coast. Just like everything ESPN does.