ESPN's Top 100 Moments of past 25 years

[Bored 0]

Mildly surprised this didn't crack the Top 10 but I'm biased.

 

#14: Montana hits Clark to win NFC Championship

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

They had practiced the play every day, from the first day of training camp through Week 16 and the playoffs. Yet the play -- "Sprint Right Option" -- caused serious problems for San Francisco 49ers quarterback Joe Montana and his teammates.

 

"We hated it," Montana would say.

 

The play forced Montana to throw the ball while running and jumping simultaneously, and every time he attempted to throw the pass in practice, 49ers coach Bill Walsh would yell, "No, no, Joe. Throw it harder. Throw it higher.'"

 

The players often mumbled in disgust during practice, "How many times are we ever going to use this play, anyway?"

 

THE MOMENT

January 10, 1982. The NFC Championship game. The San Francisco 49ers, who had made the playoffs for the first time since 1972, vs. the powerhouse Dallas Cowboys, at Candlestick Park.

 

The game is an epic showdown on a muddy field, with the lead having changed six times. Dallas leads 27-21 when the 49ers get the ball back at their own 11, with 4:54 on the clock.

 

The 49ers get a first down on third-and-four and on the Dallas sideline, coach Tom Landry decides to abandon his "flex" defense in favor of nickel coverage -- six defensive backs and one linebacker -- because he's convinced the Niners will continue to throw.

 

Across the field, the silver-haired Walsh decides to gamble in a most unlikely way. He decides to change his strategy from the pass to the run, even though the Niners are a passing team. Walsh decides to call on Lenvil Elliott -- a player he had cut in preseason only to call him back when starting running back Rickey Patton suffered an injury. On first down, Elliott goes around right end for 11 yards. Two plays later, he veers around left end for seven more yards. On third-and-three, he gets the call again and slams into the line, moves the pile and gets 3 yards for the first down.

 

"I thought my career was over back when I was cut," Elliott would say. But Walsh knew Elliott would be ready. He'd known Elliott for several years, back when both were with the Cincinnati Bengals, Walsh as the offensive coach, Elliott as a young running back whose ability to catch passes fit into Walsh's game plans.

 

The two-minute warning approaches. Walsh changes up again, telling Montana to start going to the air. Montana passes five yards to Earl Cooper to the Dallas 49. Walsh and Montana have mixed it up so well, they have Dallas back on its heels.

 

After the two-minute warning, Walsh and Montana pull off a dozy: they run a double reverse with wide receiver Freddie Solomon. The play gains 14 yards to the Dallas 35. Next, it's a 10-yard pass to Dwight Clark. Then Montana finds Solomon for 12 more to the Dallas 13.

 

The Candlestick crowd is delirious as the 49ers attempt to advance to their first Super Bowl. From the Dallas 13, Montana takes a shot at Solomon in the end zone, but the pass is too long. Then Walsh goes back to Elliott, mixing up the Cowboys once again, and he goes left for seven yards.

 

With 58 seconds left, it's now third-and-three at the Dallas 6. The Niners call timeout. Walsh calmly tells Montana, "Sprint Right Option," the play Montana detests. Montana doesn't debate the call. He doesn't even flinch. He simply takes the Niners to the line of scrimmage. Solomon and Clark are flanked out to the right, and two backs stand behind Montana.

 

Walsh has never thought much of using four wide receivers, or even three, except in crisis situations. He doesn't like shotgun plays either. His theory is to threaten defenses with the same basic look on every down, from first-and-10 to third-and-long. He sees no reason to change now, with a Super Bowl berth on the line. As usual, he has his two backs in position to run, block or catch; and, as usual, the tight end is in position to block or catch.

 

Dallas' D.D.Lewis, a vital product of Landry's famous ultraconservative flex defense, wonders if he should blitz. Solomon's job is to pick off Dallas corner Everson Walls, who is on Clark, springing Clark open on the other side of the field. But as Montana takes the snap, Solomon slips and can not get away from Dallas' Dennis Thurman. Solomon quickly recovers, however, and grabs Walls' attention, for a split second. That's enough to spring Clark.

 

Montana rolls right, looking across the field and then toward the right side of the end zone. When Lewis sees Solomon slip and Montana rolling right, he realizes he should have blitzed. "Montana would be on the ground right now," he thinks to himself.

 

Montana is under heavy pressure from Ed "Too Tall" Jones and then Lewis, both in furious pursuit. Clark, meanwhile, runs inside, then breaks, turns and runs toward the back of the end zone. Montana is running out of room. Suddenly, he spots Clark. Nearing the right sideline, he leaps and lofts the ball toward the rear of the end zone.

 

The ball floats through the Bay Area mist and fog. Walls, who had picked off two Montana passes earlier in the game, is right on Clark. Walls is convinced that the ball is going long, that it's going over Clark's head and out of bounds.

 

But as the ball floats in the air, the 6-foot-4 Clark leaps, extending himself as far as he can. He goes high over Walls and grasps the ball with his fingertips, cradling it in his hands as he comes back down to earth. Clark slams the ball into the turf, and Candlestick Park and the 49ers' sideline explodes in celebration. Fifty-one seconds remain. Seconds later, Ray Wersching's point-after is good, and it's now San Francisco 28, Dallas 27.

 

The Niners hold on, sacking Dallas quarterback Danny White and forcing a fumble. Before the final gun sounds, fans pour out of the stands, rushing past security guards unable to hold back the sea of wild fans in red. Cowboy players have to fight their way to the locker room. Fans mob Montana and Clark, and they relish in the glory of The Catch.

[Bored 0]

#13: Ripken tops Gehrig, takes lap around Camden

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

All Cal Ripken Jr. cared about was being in the lineup, for his team, for the fans, every day, every inning, no matter what the score. He never asked out of the lineup, no matter what, no matter how badly he was injured, no matter how much pain or fatigue he was experiencing.

 

From May 30, 1982 through September 6, 1995, Ripken not only played in every game, he played in virtually every inning. He played in 19,163 of a possible 19,330 innings, a staggering 99.1 percent of the total innings. By 1995, Lou Gehrig's monumental consecutive game streak record of 2,130 that stood since 1939 was finally within reach.

 

Ripken was celebrated everywhere he went that year, from Boston to Chicago to Oakland, for Gehrig's record held a special symbolic place in America. Until Ripken, no one had come within five years of Gehrig's mark. To illustrate the enormity of the feat, during Ripken's 2,130 game streak, 27 major-league clubs started 522 different shortstops. From the time Ripken started his streak 3,712 major leaguers were disabled; during the 1995 season alone, 340 major leaguers went on the disabled list from the start of the season until the day Ripken was braced to overtake Gehrig.

 

The closest Ripken came to missing a game was a 1985 ankle sprain that resulted in swelling and discoloration. The next day was an off day. The next day, with the ankle taped, he played. The next time he almost missed a game was eight years later, in 1993, when he sustained a twisted knee in a brawl with the Mariners. The next morning, Ripken had trouble walking. He told his wife that the streak was over, that he couldn't play. But again, aggressive treatment that including running in the tunnels below Camden Yards, combined with Ripken's refusal to give in, enabled him to fight through the pain and play that night.

 

So when Streak Week finally arrived, the baseball world stopped to celebration Ripken, the ultimate iron man.

 

THE MOMENT

September 6, 1995. Orioles Park at Camden Yards. The city of Baltimore is pulsating. Bursting at the seams. This is the day Ripken will break one of sport's most sacred records. Every night in Baltimore, when an Orioles' game becomes official, a huge banner on the brick B&O Warehouse behind the right-field bleachers at Camden Yards is removed to update the countdown to the record-breaking moment. On this night, it will turn from the magical 2,130 to the supernatural 2,131.

 

In the streets of Baltimore and its suburbs, people beg and bribe for tickets. Tickets are selling for thousands of dollars. Signs appear along the highways to the stadium: "Just One Ticket PLEASE."

 

The ballpark has a playoff atmosphere, complete with bunting along the first- and third-base sides of the field. Two rows of temporary seating have been erected next to the Orioles dugout and reserved for $5,000 each, $1 million of which will be given as a donation to study Lou Gehrig's Disease.

 

More than 600 reporters are present to document the historic evening, which includes special-edition memorabilia at concession stands and special commemorative souvenir baseballs. President Bill Clinton, Vice President Al Gore and their families visit Ripken in the clubhouse before the game. "This is the closest thing to an out-of-body experience I'll ever have," he tells Clinton.

 

As game time approaches, Ripken, his blue eyes sparkling under the brim of his black and orange Orioles cap and his gray hair trimmed neatly above his ears, stands at the side of the O's dugout, greeting fans and shaking hands.

 

As saxophonist Branford Marsalis performs the national anthem with pianist Bruce Hornsby, flashbulbs pop all around Camden Yards, one after another. Every significant moment is documented with flashes from cameras -- when Ripken's children throw out the ceremonial first ball, when Ripken races to shortstop in the first inning, when Ripken steps out of the dugout for his first at-bat ...

 

When Ripken walks to the plate for his second at-bat in the fourth inning, the stadium is overflowing with emotion. Ripken had homered in the previous two games of the series, and amazingly, he does again, cracking a signature line drive in the left-field corner, prompting the stadium to explode in celebration.

 

As the Angels are retired in the top of the fifth, the historic moment finally arrives. The game is official. Everyone in the stadium stands, anticipating the unfurling of the banner, signifying the historic moment. Players from both teams stand in front of their dugouts. As the banner on the B&O Warehouse is updated from 2,130 to 2,131, fireworks explode and balloons and streamers soar into the air.

 

The crowd showers Ripken in a salute that interrupts the game for 22 minutes. Players from both teams hoist video recorders and cameras to document the scene. Ripken emerges from the dugout to wave to the crowd and tap his heart. He emerges again ... and again ... and again. Eight times he emerges for curtain calls.

 

Games across America are stopped so fans and players can watch the unprecedented scene on scoreboards. As the crowd continues its standing ovation, Ripken walks over to his family next to the O's dugout and takes off his uniform shirt. He gives it to his wife, Kelly, as a keepsake. The T-shirt Ripken wears features the message: "2130-plus. Hugs and Kisses for Daddy." He hoists his 2-year-old son, Ryan, into his arms, and kisses his 5-year-old daughter, Rachel. He waves to his parents in an upstairs box and then shakes the hand of his brother Billy, a former Oriole.

 

Ripken returns to the dugout, but Rafael Palmeiro and Bobby Bonilla and several other Orioles coerce Ripken to run along the stadium's outer area, a victory lap, so to speak. Knowing the reluctant and humble Ripken would never do it on his own, Palmiero and Bonilla push Ripken out of the dugout to start a triumphant circular tour of the field.

 

Ripken begins running along the perimeter of the magical palace, slapping the hands of fans. He shakes the ballgirl's hand and then a security man's as he passes under B&O Warehouse banner.

 

He leaps up to slap the hands of people in the bleachers. He stops at the bullpen entrance to hug Elrod Hendricks and thank the coach he's known since he was a child. As a fan drops his cap on the warning track while reaching out to touch the new consecutive-games record holder, Ripken goes back to pick it up and return it.

 

All the umpires throw their arms around Ripken and embrace him. As Ripken heads toward the visiting dugout, all the Angels are lined up, one by one, to congratulate him. Ripken hugs Rod Carew and Chili Davis and shakes the hand of every Angels player.

 

The parade around Camden Yards takes 12 minutes. Following the final out of Baltimore's 4-2 victory, another celebration begins at home plate. "Tonight, I stand here overwhelmed as my name is linked with the great and courageous Lou Gehrig," Ripken tells the crowd. "I'm truly humbled to have our names spoken in the same breath."

 

He says he owes thanks to four people: his parents Cal Sr. and Vi Ripken for their inspiration and motivation; his wife Kelly for her support, and former teammate Eddie Murray "for teaching me how to play the game day in and day out."

 

After teammate Brady Anderson and former Orioles shortstop Mark Belanger address the crowd, a hush falls over the stadium as Joe DiMaggio, a teammate of Gehrig's, steps to the microphone. The clock at Camden Yards shows midnight. The park is still full to the top rows with fans, glassy-eyed, exhausted, honored to witness the night's events. "Wherever my former teammate, Lou Gehrig, is today, he's tipping his cap to you, Cal," DiMaggio says, "He's looking down on you, Cal, with appreciation."

[TheOriginalOrangeGoblin 0]

Wow I thought ESPN would put that top 10. Ah well top 20 is good enough for it.

[KingPK 0]

The importance of this field goal, or any field goal, befuddles me. How this beats The Longest Yard is beyond all logic. But hey I'm glad we're giving so much love and attention to Boston's D-Team.

Well......the FG actually WON the Superbowl. And the Pats are quickly approaching the Red Sox in terms of popularity around here (they're #1 in some people's eyes).

[Bored 0]

#12: Pete Rose becomes all-time hits leader

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

As a kid, Pete Rose could always be found playing in the sandlots that sat in the shadows of Crosley Field, home of the Cincinnati Reds, the team for which he dreamed of playing for one day.

 

He was undersized, didn't possess much power, and many people told him he had no chance to play in the minors, let alone the majors. But his heart, hustle and heady nature -- and having an uncle employed as a Reds' scout -- gave Pete Rose a chance. That's all he needed.

 

By Rose's third season, hitting over .300 was a formality. He batted over .300 in 15 of 17 seasons, beginning in 1965. All the while, he racked up hit after base hit. He closed in on 3,800 career hits, passing Henry Aaron to become No. 2 all time behind the only man to amass 4,000 hits, Ty Cobb.

 

In 1985, as the Reds' player-manager, the 44-year-old Rose, in his 23rd major-league season, was zeroing in on Cobb's all-time mark of 4,191 hits, a record that had stood for 57 years.

 

THE MOMENT

It's Sept. 11, 1985. The clock in Cincinnati's Riverfront Stadium reads 7:58 p.m. as Rose emerges from the Reds' dugout to a sellout crowd immersed in a sea of red under a twilight blue sky with orange streaks in the clouds. He is one hit shy of the magical mark of 4,192 career hits as he walks to the plate to face Padres right-hander Eric Show.

 

The crowd, already standing, bursts into a deafening ovation. Batting left-handed, Rose goes into his familiar crouched stance, his hands wrapped tightly around the handle of his black bat. Show delivers the first pitch, high and away, ball one. Chants of "Pete! Pete! Pete!" floods the stadium as Rose fouls the second pitch down the left-field line to even the count at 1-1. Flashlights pop, one after another. The crowd of 47,237 stands as one.

 

Rose had tied Cobb three days earlier in Chicago's Wrigley Field, in the final game of a road trip. The next day, the Reds were home to begin this series against the Padres, much to the relief of Reds fans who wanted to witness history at home. But Rose benched himself in the series opener against Padres left-hander Dave Dravecky. The next night, Rose went 0-for-4.

 

Pitch No. 3 from Show is high and tight. The crowd is going wild, anticipating the moment they have all been waiting for. The next pitch is a middle-in fastball. Rose whips his bat around and slaps the ball into left-center field. The ball slices gracefully and bounces off the turf right in front of Carmelo Martinez, who fields it on one bounce.

 

The ballpark explodes with fireworks as streamers and confetti float onto the field. Rose speeds around first base, comes to a screeching halt, claps his hands and gives first-base coach Tommy Helms a low-five as Riverfront Stadium bursts into celebration. The Reds' bench clears as the players rush toward first base to mob and congratulate Rose. Tony Perez and Davey Concepcion, Rose's famous Big Red Machine teammates, jump in and hoist Rose up on their shoulders.

 

"I could feel I was gonna get a hit," Rose would say later. "I approached the game a little differently tonight. I was bearing down and the bat felt good and light to me. I said to myself, 'Let's go, let's get on base already.'"

 

With the celebration engulfing him in a stirring seven-minute ovation, Rose removes his batting helmet and waves to the crowd. "I saw this hit in my mind a million times," he would later tell the media. Then, as he steps back on first, he takes a breath, turns to Helms, his face quivering. All the emotion of the moment suddenly overwhelms him. The man of an iron will and rugged face breaks down in tears. He throws his arms around Helms and throws his head on his friend's shoulder and sobs.

 

From the dugout comes a uniformed young man, the one wearing the same number as Rose, No. 14, the one with the same name on the back of his white Reds jersey. Petey Rose, the 15-year-old redheaded son of Rose and the Reds' batboy, falls into his father's arms at first base in an emotional tearjerker of an embrace. Tears flow like champagne did during the Reds' Rose-led championship celebrations.

 

"I was doing all right until I looked up and started thinking about my father [who died in 1970]," Rose would tell the media. "I saw my father and Ty Cobb looking down on me. I didn't plan on being emotional. I don't have any experience at that."

 

Nearly 20 minutes later, the game resumes. Rose winds up scoring both Cincinnati runs. Besides his record-setting single, he also triples. He then closes the curtain on the historic night by making the final out on a diving stop at first base on Steve Garvey's liner to preserve the Reds' 2-0 victory. Rose excitedly hops up and down and slaps palms with teammates. Still hustling.

[Dr. Tom 0]

So someone who disgraced the game is ranked ahead of someone who was nothing but a good ambassador for it?

 

Seems fair...

[Guest MikeSC]

The importance of this field goal, or any field goal, befuddles me. How this beats The Longest Yard is beyond all logic. But hey I'm glad we're giving so much love and attention to Boston's D-Team.

Well......the FG actually WON the Superbowl. And the Pats are quickly approaching the Red Sox in terms of popularity around here (they're #1 in some people's eyes).

Norwood's miss was more key. If Vinatieri missed, it would've still been tied. Norwood is the only guy who had a shot at changing the outcome from a loss to a win.

 

Norwood's miss > either of Vinatieri's make.

-=Mike

[EVIL~! alkeiper 0]

So someone who disgraced the game is ranked ahead of someone who was nothing but a good ambassador for it?

 

Seems fair...

Let's not get into the Pete Rose argument for the time being. I've been pondering an MLB only list, and I think Rose tops Ripken (note that its spelled correctly). In 1985, Rose was just a player/manager. None of this gambling/tax evasion scandal had surfaced (or perhaps even occured). All we knew was that this seemingly untouchable record was going to fall, broken by a player the press held in high esteem because he "played the right way."

 

I'm probably wandering. I think Rose's hit was a greater achievement than Ripken's streak. Its not easy to pad one's hit total to that point. Ask Harold Baines. Rose did benefit by playing a few years too long, but 4192 is 4192. Ripken played every day to the detriment of his team. Check out his player page at Retrosheet.org. They have statistical splits available up to 1992. Ripken hit significantly worse in August and September. The streak is nice, but all it measures is the ability to play every day. It doesn't measure any portion of real value. Otherwise, Everett Scott and Steve Garvey would be Hall of Famers.

 

Ripken was a class act, a nice guy, and a real credit to the sport. Rose was a cheat, and moreover he's been exposed as the years fly by. But that hit was a greater moment than Ripken's streak.

[Bored 0]

#11: O.J. Simpson found not guilty of murder

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

The DNA of the drops of blood at the crime scene, found just to the left of the size-12 footprints, matched O.J. Simpson's DNA. So did the bloodstain on the back gate of the exclusive Bundy Drive condominium in Beverly Hills, California. And the drops of blood on Simpson's driveway and in the foyer of his house.

 

Blood from the two murder victims -- Nicole Brown Simpson, O.J. Simpson's wife, and her friend, Ronald Goldman -- was also found in O.J. Simpson's home. The black socks at the foot of Simpson's bed had a splotch of blood that matched Nicole Simpson's DNA.

 

Matching bloody gloves were found at the Bundy Drive residence and outside Simpson's home, showing genetic markers consistent with a blend of the murder victims' and Simpson's DNA.

 

Smears of blood that were mixtures of both murder victims and Simpson's DNA were found in Simpson's white Ford Bronco -- the one where he sat in the back seat holding a gun to his head while friend Al Cowlings drove for miles and miles with a fleet of 20 black and white police squad cars following closely behind, halting traffic from Los Angeles to Disneyland, prompting people to jam the freeway overpasses and TV news choppers to fly overhead, broadcasting the astonishing spectacle, play by play, from coast to coast.

 

Simpson, the Heisman Trophy winner later enshrined into the Hall of Famer, a person known for his rental car commercials and film roles, was knee deep in guilt, a shocking revelation to people who knew him well as well as to football fans.

 

Simpson was arrested and charged with a double murder, a crime that could result in life in prison. He spent 474 days in prison while a most publicized, talked about, controversial and bizarre trial dragged on for month upon month.

 

Simpson's hard-driving defense team, led by DNA experts Barry Scheck and Peter Neufeld, fiercely challenged every piece of scientific evidence. They tore into the genetic analyses of one witness after another, ridiculing the Los Angeles Police Department crime lab as a cesspool of corruption that tainted evidence. They also raised an even more sinister theme, suggesting that police set out to frame Simpson.

 

Finally, after nearly a year in the most riveting courtroom drama anyone had ever witnessed, the defense rested. The world braced itself, waiting anxiously for the moment Judge Lance Ido's clerk would announce "guilty" or "not guilty."

 

THE MOMENT

It's 9 a.m., Oct. 3, 1995. Thousands of people converge on the downtown Los Angeles courthouse. The air is electric, for after 266 days of sequestration at the Inter-Continental Hotel in downtown L.A., jurors in the Simpson trial deliberate for a mere three hours, bringing one of history's most sensational trials to a stunning climax and dramatic close.

 

The courtroom is jammed. There is clamoring and pushing. Suddenly, the courtroom becomes silent as Simpson enters. Spectators tremble visibly in anticipation of the verdict, broadcast live nationwide. Business across the country comes to a virtual standstill. The world watches breathlessly from L.A. to middle America to the East Coast and everywhere else in between.

 

Goldman's sister, Kim, immediately starts sobbing. The tension builds as clerk Deidre Robertson hands the verdict envelope to the jury forewoman. She certifies the forms. Robertson takes back the envelope and begins reading.

 

Simpson's attorney, Johnny Cochran, clenches his hands. He then raises them to his lips in a gesticulation of hope. Simpson clenches his jaw. His mouth trembles with emotion. He purses his lips. He gulps once, then twice, then once more. He wears a pained expression as Robertson is about to read the verdict.

 

As millions of viewers nationwide watch the live drama unfold before their very eyes, breathlessly and nervously, Robertson begins reading the verdict in the tense courtroom.

 

Juror Lionel Cryer, a former Black Panther whom prosecutors had mysteriously and shockingly left on the panel, smiles and winks at Simpson, astonishingly. Defense lawyer Carl Douglas glances at the most hostile witness to the defense, Anise Ascherbach, a 60-year-old white woman. She breaks into a small smile, prompting Douglas to whip his head around and whisper to Simpson, "O.J., I think we won!"

 

The verdict is read: "In the matter of the people versus Orenthal James Simpson, we find the defendant . . . Orenthal James Simpson . . . not guilty of the crime of murder against Nicole Brown Simpson."

 

Simpson's body immediately uncoils, and he appears as if he is going to fall backwards and pass out. He breathes a sigh of relief. He regains his balance. A faint smile appears on his face. He waves limply, lifelessly, at the panelists and mumbles, quietly and softly, "Thank you."

 

Nicole Simpson's parents, Louis and Juditha Brown, sit stoically, motionless, unable to comprehend what they just heard. Nicole's her two sisters immediately began crying.

 

The Goldmans, fearing the worst, sit nervously as the reading unfolds again, this time for the verdict of Ronald L. Goldman. When the words "not guilty" are uttered once again by Robertson, the crowd breaks into a combination of fury, rage, anger and joy. Around the nation, the response is likewise mixed, and polarized.

 

Goldman's sister, Kim, sobs in gulping moans that ring through the courtroom. Goldman's stepmother, Patti, crumples forward on the wooden court bench, muttering, "Oh my God." Fred Goldman, Ronald's father, turns toward Simpson and shouts, "Murderer."

 

As the Goldmans and the Browns drown in anger, sorrow and outrage, Simpson's eldest daughter, Arnelle, joyously exclaims, "Oh, my God, yes!" Simpson's son, Jason, places his head in his hands and cries. Simpson's elderly mother, Eunice, smiles in her wheelchair.

 

Simpson, meanwhile, lets out a long, shuddering sigh. Cochran pounds him on the back and pumps his fist in the air. Simpson embraces Cochran and silently thanks the jury of nine blacks, two whites and a Hispanic man. Simpson's longtime friend Robert Kardashian pulls him close for a hug and wipes away tears.

 

On the other side of the courtroom, Deputy District Attorney Marcia Clark refuses to turn toward the jurors. She is pale, stunned. She purses her lips, obviously bitterly angry and astonished at the same time.

 

Prosecutor Christopher Darden, who as a high school football player aspired to wear Simpson's number, glares angrily at the jury panelists, his mouth half open in disbelief and dismay. The jurors refuse to meet his stare.

 

As the jurors leave the courtroom, Cryer, the former Black Panther, gives Simpson a clenched fist salute with his left arm. Judge Ito tells jurors to "expect the worst" from swarms of reporters seeking their tales. Virtually all of them immediately disperse and flee, saying as little as possible to the press.

 

The rage and fury inside the courtroom filters outdoors, where racial lines are drawn, where there is a haunting and peculiar combination of bliss and relief on one side, resentment and hostility on the other.

 

L.A. District Attorney Gil Garcetti, bewildered and humiliated by the stunning verdict, angrily tells reporters he is "profoundly disappointed" because there was a "mountain of evidence" against Simpson.

 

Dueling press conferences begin. Defense lawyers attribute the victory not to their battle against racism but to their ability to destroy the chronology of the prosecution's case. Cochran would tell the media that "no reasonable person" could believe that Simpson could murder two people, return home, change clothes, shower, conceal his weapon and flee to the airport in the time that prosecutors had illustrated.

 

"We always said that if we could shatter the prosecution's timeline so that O. J. couldn't have committed this crime, there would be a reasonable doubt," Cochran would say afterwards in the news conference in Judge Ito's courtroom. "That's even before we ever got to the socks, the glove and Fuhrman," Cochran would add, alluding to Mark Fuhrman, the L.A. detective who had boasted, according to testimony, of beating suspects, singling out minorities for brutal treatment and manufacturing evidence.

 

Critics of the verdict bellow that the jury had been manipulated by a contemptuous defense team that talked on and on about the racism of Los Angeles police more than the guilt or innocence of Simpson. Simpson's lawyers, meanwhile, continue to say that prosecutors simply had not proven their case.

 

Meanwhile, legal experts on TV and radio claim that what the verdict says is that fame and money can buy the best defense, can take a case of overwhelming and incriminating physical evidence and transform it into a case riddled with reasonable doubt.

 

"We came here in search of justice," Darden would say, slowly and sadly, in a wake-like news conference. His words abruptly stop. He shakes his head silently. He breaks down then waves his hand, essentially saying, "No more questions."

 

"I deeply believe the country lost today," Goldman tells the media, brushing away tears. "Justice was not served today."

 

At 11:16 a.m., Simpson returns to his Brentwood estate and embraces his longtime friend Al Cowlings in the same driveway where Simpson was arrested on June 17, 1994, just a few days after the violent, brutal murders of Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman. As night falls, crowds of people, some cynics, some well-wishers, gather beyond police barricades as the Simpson entourage parties inside the exclusive home, celebrating the landmark verdict.

[Red Baron 0]

 

okay then.

[Bored 0]

All O.J., all the time.

 

#10: O.J. Simpson drives around in white Bronco

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

The blood-soaked bodies were discovered on a Spanish-tile walkway outside an exclusive Brentwood home just a few minutes past midnight on June 13, 1994.

 

The gruesome sight in the exclusive neighborhood near Beverly Hills, California, turned out to be Nicole Brown Simpson, the ex-wife of Hall of Fame football player O.J. Simpson, and Ron Goldman, a 25-year-old waiter from a local Brentwood restaurant.

 

The two had been stabbed to death sometime after 10 p.m. as Simpson's two children slept inside the home. Their throats had been slit. The corpses bore multiple stab wounds.

 

Police immediately tried contacting Simpson. The police soon learned that he had taken an 11:45 p.m. flight to Chicago. He was notified of his ex-wife's death, and returned to Los Angeles, arriving shortly before noon the following day. Upon returning to his home, he was immediately handcuffed and taken to police headquarters for questioning. He was later released.

 

The next day, he hired attorney Robert Shapiro. Police do not label Simpson a suspect ... until bloodstains on the walkway where the bodies were found matched Simpson's blood type. Two bloodstained gloves were also recovered by police, one at the scene, the other outside Simpson's Brentwood home.

 

Police said that a trail of blood drops stretched across Simpson's cobblestone driveway. Then they said that bloodstains inside his home matched Nicole Simpson's blood type. Simpson becomes the focus of the LAPD's investigation as evidence mounts against him, minute by minute. Simpson grows increasingly distraught and begins to undergo treatment for depression.

 

Four days after the bodies were discovered, Simpson attended his ex-wife's funeral. Later, he goes into a deep depression. His emotional state is so fragile that Shapiro dispatched several doctors to the San Fernando Valley home of Simpson's friend Robert Kardashian. Heavily sedated, Simpson spent the night at Kardashian's.

 

Late that evening, investigators conclude their case on blood found at the crime scene. They recommend that Simpson be charged with two counts of first-degree murder. The charges of multiple killings could bring him the death penalty if he is convicted.

 

THE MOMENT

It's June 17, 1994, Friday, in Los Angeles. Police authorities telephone Shapiro at 8:30 a.m. and inform him that Simpson must surrender. They give him until 11 a.m. Arraignment is scheduled for that afternoon in Los Angeles Municipal Court.

 

Shapiro leaves his home and arrives at Kardashian's house at 9:30. Simpson is just waking up. Shapiro informs Simson that he must turn himself in. An hour passes.

 

"O.J., we gotta get going," Shapiro tells Simpson at 10:30 a.m. Simpson is on the phone, talking to his children, his mother and then his personal lawyer. He orally dictates changes to his will, and later signs a codicil to the will. He also writes several letters.

 

If Simpson does not turn himself in by 11 a.m., he becomes a fugitive. At 10:45 a.m., a police commander telephones Shapiro and says: "Where is Mr. Simpson? We will need to come over to arrest him."

 

"He's being examined by doctors; that's the delay," Shapiro says.

 

A police cruiser is dispatched to Kardashian's house. Police arrive 15 minutes later. "We're going to follow normal procedure, handcuff Mr. Simpson and take him to the police station, and you will be able to accompany us," one of the officers tells Shapiro, Kardashian, Simpson's friend Al Cowlings, and several doctors.

 

A psychiatrist goes into Simpson's room to tell him that the police had arrived, but he's not there. Neither is Cowlings. Simpson and Cowlings, a former teammate at USC and with the Buffalo Bills, had slipped out a backdoor and into a white Ford Bronco.

 

Shapiro hastily calls a press conference, and informs the world that Simpson is very distraught, that he fears Simpson might attempt suicide. Shapiro is joined at the news conference by Kardashian, who reads a handwritten letter that Simpson left behind.

 

"I think of my life and feel I've done most of the right things," Kardashian says, reading the note to a nationally televised audience. "So why do I end up like this? I can't go on. No matter what the outcome, people will look and point. I can't take that. I can't subject my children to that ... I have nothing to do with the murder. I love her ... Don't feel sorry for me. I've had a great life. Please think of the real O. J. and not this lost person. Thanks for making my life special. I hope I helped yours. Peace and love, O. J."

 

At 2 p.m., police hold a news conference announcing that Simpson has officially become a fugitive. "He is a wanted murder suspect," angry police spokesman, Comdr. David Gascon, tells the the media.

 

Soon, word arrives that Simpson is on the freeway in the white Bronco, heading toward Orange County. Simpson calls his ex-wife's family at their Orange County home. Later, Brown family members tells Police Sgt. Doug Abney that Simpson had sounded suicidal.

 

Simpson's escape turns into a public relations nightmare for the LAPD and the district attorney's office. The decision not to arrest Simpson is now being second-guessed, especially since police sources told media members that the evidence against Simpson was strong enough to warrant an arrest. But police held off, hoping to build a stronger case before taking Simpson into custody.

 

As the Bronco winds along the freeway, a fleet of 20 black-and-white squad cars follow closely behind. Traffic comes to a halt along the freeways from Disneyland to Los Angeles. People jam the overpasses. TV news choppers fly overhead, broadcasting the astonishing spectacle live. Radio listeners from across the country call local station KNX and plead with Simpson to pull over and surrender.

 

LAPD Detective Fred Lange, the lead investigator on the case, calls Cowlings on the phone in the car. "O.J. is in the back seat holding a gun to his head," Cowlings tells Lange. "He says he'll never surrender."

 

Throughout the country, people are glued to television sets. Bars and stores are packed with people watching the chase, ignoring appointments and work. Business comes to a screeching halt; customers are just standing, watching TV.

 

Every foot the Bronco moves is chronicled live on television, the demise of a sports legend documented. With a convoy of police vehicles in pursuit, blocking traffic on the freeway and entrance ramps, Simpson and Cowlings wind their way through Orange County and all the back to Simpson's Brentwood home, ending a 10-hour, 600-mile chase.

 

As the Bronco pulls into the cobblestone driveway of Simpson's Tudor-style mansion, police officers in bulletproof vests converge on the car. As the SUV sits parked, its hazard lights blinking on the gentle June night, Cowlings emerges from the driver's seat and walks into the house. Simpson remains in the Ford, for nearly an hour, distraught and suicidal, cradling a revolver.

 

With hundreds of people having converged in the neighborhood, the LAPD Special Weapons and Tactics team and negotiators surround the house. At 8:50 p.m., they finally coax Simpson out of the vehicle. He emerges from the vehicle, minus his gun, carrying a framed family photo.

 

Simpson is allowed to go into the house, use the bathroom and call his mother. He is then transported by police motorcade to Parker Center and booked ... for murder.

[Guest Smues]

I'm fine with OJ being found not guilty being this high, but did this relly deserve the 11/10 combo?

[EVIL~! alkeiper 0]

Agreed. That this takes up two consecutive slots is nonsense.

[Guest Anglesault]

OJ in the Bronco and OJ is acquitted could be lumped into one "OJ" category and actually, I believe, moved into top five.

[alfdogg 0]

So what haven't we seen yet:

 

Miracle on Ice

Probably Bonds and Jordan will both get in again. Did's Jordan's game against the Celtics get shown yet?

 

Did Aaron passing Ruth occur in the last 25 years?

[Guest Anglesault]

So what haven't we seen yet:

 

Miracle on Ice

Probably Bonds and Jordan will both get in again. Did's Jordan's game against the Celtics get shown yet?

One SHOULD be Miracle on Ice.

 

The chances of it being a Bonds/Jordan/Woods moment are really strong though, putting the shit icing on the all around crap cake.

[Bored 0]

What would Bonds get in for again? They already put up the homerun record. Ditto for Jordan. All of his major moments have been covered.

 

Here's what's left: Miracle on Ice, Bill Buckner play, Kirk Gibson's homerun, Doug Flutie's hail mary, Mark McGwire's homerun record, Magic Johnson announces he's HIV positive, Bills 32 point comeback, Pete Rose banned from baseball, Mike Tyson convicted of rape.

[Guest Anglesault]

What would Bonds get in for again? They already put up the homerun record. Ditto for Jordan. All of his major moments have been covered.

Like that would stop them.

 

They'd make up some moment and write in such detail that you'd be convinced it happened before they leave keep all their Golden Boys out of the top ten.

 

I'll believe a top ten without Bonds, Jordan and Woods when I see it.

[Vern Gagne 0]

9-11 will make the list.

 

I'm guessing the so called Tiger Slam makes the Top 10.

 

One idea for Jordan might be his first NBA title against Magic and the Lakers. Than 4 months later we find out Magic is HIV positive. The passing of the torch is know official has Micheal Jordan is without question the biggest star in the NBA and the Bulls the team of the 90's.

[NoCalMike 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.

well yeah, considering Giambi was clearly safe.

[NoCalMike 0]

I wonder if Kirk Gibson's homerun off Eck will make it.....

 

Also, where the hell is Darrell Green's Punt Return TD at? The dude tore cartilidge in his ribs halfway through the run and still jukes and jives his way for the TD to send the Skins to the superbowl.

[UseTheSledgehammerUh 0]

9-11 already made the list.

[bob_barron 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.

well yeah, considering Giambi was clearly safe.

Giambi was clearly out- watch the replay.

 

And Jeter's play already made the list.

 

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/espn25/story?page=moments/45

[bob_barron 0]

9-11 already made the list.

No- only Jack Buck's poem made the list.

 

I thoughts Mets v. Braves after 9.11 had a shot at making the list but I don't consider it to be one of the top 9 moments of the past 25 years

[Bored 0]

#9: Doug Flutie's Hail Mary beats Miami, 47-45

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

The television executives assembled in the conference room. The issue facing the TV execs on this day in 1984 is the University of Miami vs. Boston College football game scheduled for September 29. The game is marquee showdown between two glamorous quarterbacks -- 5-foot-9 scrambling dynamo Doug Flutie of B.C., who was on the verge of becoming college football's first 10,000-yard passer, and 6-foot-5 Bernie Kosar of Miami, the defending NCAA champs.

 

The TV executives want to take advantage of this potential ratings bonanza, so they decide to switch the game to Friday, November 23, the day after Thanksgiving Day.

 

But the execs need to do some serious convincing and manipulating: Miami was scheduled to face Rice, so the TV honchos called the schools and inquired about the possibility of rearranging the schedule. Rice athletic officials agreed to change its date with Miami -- for $80,000. The network forked over the money, and the B.C. game became a national telecast.

 

THE MOMENT

It's November 23, 1984, and the soldout crowd at the Orange Bowl has seen an electrifying shootout. Each team plays the entire 3-hour, 43-minutes marathon like a two-minute drill. There are 15 scoring drives, none less than 55 yards, five drives of 80 or more, and 1,273 yards produced by both teams combined.

 

At halftime, it's 28-21, B.C. While the teams rest and strategize in their locker rooms, a driving tropical rainstorm arrives. Snubbing the storm, Miami opens the third quarter with a 96-yard drive to tie the game at 28. The game remains tied at 31 entering the final quarter. Boston College snaps the stalemate with a field goal, but Miami regains the lead as Melvin Bratton comes right back with a dazzling 52-yard scoring run. With 3:50 remaining, B.C. completes an 82-yard drive to go back up, 41-38.

 

With 2:30 left, Miami is buried deep on its own 10 facing a third-and-21. Kosar scrambles back to his own goal line, is nearly tackled twice and unloads a pass to Darryl Oliver for a first down. The Hurricanes later make a first down on fourth-and-one and then Bratton scores his fourth TD of the game for a 45-41 lead.

 

The Hurricanes go wild on their sideline, celebrating what they believe is a landmark victory. Only 28 seconds remain. "I thought we had it won," Miami center Ian Sinclair would tell the media later. "We all did."

 

"I assumed we had lost," B.C. coach Jack Bicknell told the press. "I'm thinking, 'What am I going to tell these guys in the locker room?' They just played a great game."

 

Flutie isn't thinking only of the plays he's going to run on the game's final series. "We've got time for at least four plays," Flutie says to himself as he watches the kickoff. He runs through the Eagles' playbook in his mind. His plan is to get the ball near midfield with his first two passes, and then put one up into the end zone. Perhaps two, if there's time.

 

As the Eagles huddle up following the kickoff, Flutie yells, "OK, let's get near midfield. If we can get it there, we have a 50-50 chance of scoring."

 

Starting at the 0, Flutie gets 19 yards on his first play, a completion to Troy Stradford. Then, he gets 13 more on a completion to Scott Gieselman, getting the ball into Miami territory. Ten seconds remain. Flutie's next pass is incomplete. Six seconds remain -- and 48 yards to cover.

 

"OK, 'Flood Tip' on two," Flutie calls. Flood Tip is a play in which three receivers race downfield, flooding one area in the end zone and wait for Flutie's bomb to fall from the heavens. The play is specifically designed for Gerry Phelan at the goal line. If Phelan is unable to catch the ball, he is supposed to try to tip it to the two other receivers.

 

B.C. has tried "Flood Tip" three times in the previous two seasons and it worked once -- against Temple, earlier in the season, at the close of the first half. And it was Phelan who caught the touchdown pass.

 

Flutie takes the snap and darts backward. All-American lineman Jerome Brown chases Flutie out of the pocket. Staring straight into a 30-mile-per-hour wind, and with Miami's Willie Lee Broughton heading straight for him, Flutie heaves a bomb from his own 37, a bomb that sails ... and sails ... 60 yards through in the evening sky.

 

Miami is in its prevent defense with three defensive backs assigned to the end zone. They plant themselves near the 10-yard line. They are unaware that Flutie can throw the ball 60 yards. As a result, they inexplicably allow Phelan to slip behind them, right at the cusp of the end zone.

 

"I didn't know Phelan was behind us," Darrell Fullington would tell the media later. "I took my eye away from him for just one second to see where Flutie was, and it was too late. I looked back, and the ball was in the air, and Phelan was past me. I jumped as hard as I could, but ..."

 

As the pass sails through the wet evening air, Fullington tries to recover. He scrambles backwards toward the goal line. He collides with teammate Reggie Sutton. With Fullington and Sutton off-balance at the 3, the ball begins to descend over their heads. They leap, but the ball sails right between their arms, just past the tips of their fingernails, and it falls right behind them ... right into Phelan's arms.

 

At the other end of the field, Flutie is lying on the ground, the aftermath of getting slammed by Broughton. As Flutie rises to his feet, he is unaware that Phelan is cradling the ball -- his 11th catch of the game for 226 yards -- as if it is "my first-born," he would say.

 

Flutie realizes what has transpired, that someone, somehow, caught the ball. Flutie begins running toward the end zone, his arms waving and flapping and whirling. "I thought the pass fell incomplete," he would say later. "When I saw the referee's arms go up in the air for a touchdown, I could not believe it."

 

"We flooded the area," Bicknell would say later with a laugh, referring to the name of the play, Flood Tip. "But nobody tipped it."

 

The B.C. players race jubilantly off the sideline, onto the field, toward the end zone, where Phelan is buried under a pile of wild, ecstatic players.

[Guest Anglesault]

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.

well yeah, considering Giambi was clearly safe.

Unless the Yankees went to such lengths to doctor the footage on Jeter's Yankeeography (the only thing I have that slows it down and stops it), where they show the end of the play in snapshots, Giambi was pretty clearly out. Without the benefit of instant replay, the call could have probably gone either way, it happened to go the Yankees way. But the replay supports that.

[Vern Gagne 0]

I'm so sick of the overrated Doug Flutie Hail Mary. It's not any better than Michigan-Colorado, or LSU-Kentucky. In fact i think the two later were better.

[Bored 0]

Okay when I saw this live it was definently a cool moment. But #8??? This is obviously just an excuse to have an Ali moment on the list. This also knocks at least one huge moment off the list entirely as none of us even thought of this one.

 

#8: Ali lights the flame at the 1996 Olympics

Rick Weinberg

Special to ESPN.com

 

The question was asked and debated for more than a month: Who will be the chosen one, the person to receive the Olympic Games' great honor of lighting the Olympic cauldron for the 1996 Games in Atlanta?

 

No one from the Olympic Committee would dare reveal the secret.

 

THE MOMENT

It's July 19, 1996, the Opening Ceremonies at Atlanta's Olympic Stadium. With music of the South permeating throughout stadium and images evoking powerful remembrances of the Olympics' 100-year history, the curtain is raised on the 1996 Games.

 

"Sweet Georgia Brown" rings through the Southern summer air, and with the vivid colors of the five Olympic rings waving through Olympic Stadium, the ceremony begins with gold fireworks in the early-evening sky. The sky is black, except for the flawless white crescent of the moon majestically suspended against the darkness. The traditional parade of nations begins, with nearly 11,000 athletes, representing 197 nations. Fireworks continue to light up the dark summer sky, one after another, as 500 cheerleaders and a 300-member, high-stepping marching band entertain the overflowing throng. White curtains rise from the floor in center of the stadium, and, in a light, faint glow, performers create silhouettes that depict classic poses of Greek athletes.

 

The American delegation of 700 athletes is the last to ascend over the bridge in the north corner of the stadium. Led by wrestler Bruce Baumgartner, the flagbearer and a four-time Olympian, the Americans circle around the Olympic track amidst the spine-chilling roar of the audience.

 

President Bill Clinton officially begins the 16 days of the Olympic Games by announcing, "I declare open the Games of Atlanta celebrating the 26th Olympiad of the modern era."

 

Teresa Edwards, a four-time member of the U.S. women's basketball team, takes the Olympic oath for all athletes. Billy Payne, the head of the Atlanta Committee for the Olympic Games that stunned sentimental favorite Athens to win the bid for the Centennial Games, announces the Games as "the greatest peacetime event in modern history."

 

International Olympic Committee President Juan Antonio Samaranch of Spain reminds the crowd and an estimated 3.5 billion television viewers worldwide that not all is festive outside the sphere of the five rings. "We still live in a world where human tragedies persist," he would say in a late addition to his speech, referring to the crash of TWA Flight 800 that claimed 229 lives a few nights earlier, shortly after takeoff from New York.

 

The Olympic torch arrives at the stadium at 12:20 a.m. Al Oerter, a four-time gold medal-winning discus thrower from 1956 to 1968, is the last torchbearer before the flame entered the stadium.

 

The final leg of the 84-day, 15,000-mile torch relay -- which began its tour across the United States in Los Angeles in April -- begins this evening at City Hall and winds toward the stadium on a route that includes the birthplace and tomb of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

 

Emerging from beneath the center of the infield is one of Atlanta's own, boxer Evander Holyfield, a bronze medalist in 1984 and a world heavyweight champion. He takes the torch from Oerter and takes the traditional lap around the infield of the Olympic stadium.

 

Holyfield is joined in mid-lap by Voula Patoulidou of Greece, the gold medalist in the women's 100-meter hurdles in 1992. The twosome -- symbolizing the Athens Games of 1896 and the Atlanta Games 100 years later -- hand the flame to American Janet Evans, a four-time gold medal swimmer. Evans finishes the lap around the track and carries the torch up the ramp to the base of the cauldron tower.

 

There, the secret, is finally revealed: Evans is joined at the foot of the 116-foot tower leading to the caldron by ... Muhammad Ali, the former Olympic gold medalist and heavyweight champ suffering from Parkinson's syndrome.

 

Emotionally moved, the stunned crowd roars as the honor to light the Olympic cauldron falls into the hands of the 1960 gold medalist in boxing. Ali lights a fuse to form a fireball that is carried by a pulley 134 steps above to the caldron, where the flame is ignited, a flame that will burn over the stadium until the closing ceremonies.

[Lightning Flik 0]

I'd laugh if #8 knocked off Miracle on Ice.

[the max 0]

If the Miracle on Ice isn't on this list, I won't even know how to react towards such rampant stupidity and ignorance.