The world is ending, or so I'm told. If that's the case, this would be the last, greatest sports memory to cross my mind.
So much for post-dating all those checks and not brushing my teeth for a month. The world is apparently not going to end. Really, I'm glad for that. The St. Louis Rams are finally starting to find their way, and we might not have to wait until the next pending apocalypse to see a winning Rams team.
Still, the end that never came got me thinking about what I'd remember most about my favorite team, the memory that would one of the last things to cross my mind while my face melted off.
I'm in my late thirties. I'm from Missouri. The Rams are my adopted team. As much as I look back at the Fearsome Foursome of the 70s, Eric Dickerson in the 80s and the franchise's long, proud history in L.A. in awe, my connection with the Rams starts in 1995. It was a relief to have football back in St. Louis, even if it meant suffering through four terrible seasons.
I was just out of college. I had a history degree and no job. Surprise. Fortunately, I had the Greatest Show on Turf to keep me occupied. Each explosive win was a delight in and of itself, all leading up to the only game that mattered.
You can probably tell where I'm going from here.
The Titans, led by none other than Jeff Fisher, very nearly took our Super Bowl win away. But Rams linebacker Mike Jones wouldn't let that happen.
There was a former World League player, on a team headlined by a former Arena League player, making the critical last minute stop just inches away from the goal line.
I'm looking forward to the Rams bringing home another Lombardi Trophy soon enough. When that happens, I suspect there will be plenty of memorable moments to cherish. Nothing will ever replace The Tackle as my favorite sports memory, nobody's apocalyptic predictions are going to change that.