I had been blessed and cursed by having a dad who loved the game of baseball. I was drug to the Kingdome sometimes kicking and screaming my entire childhood. I of course learned to love the games, win or lose I would keep score and root on the boys. Of course that all changed in ’95, I was in college at the U at the time. My dad had been successful the years before and a season ticket holder since the beginning so we had kick-ass seats. We were right behind third base, row 4. I’d gone to the other two games up until that point. The whole thing was surreal. I remember waking up at like 4 in the morning, not being able to get back to sleep thinking of baseball. I remembered how everything stopped during that incredible run. Nobody seemed to work, the city was totally abuzz, it was magic.
October 8th, 1995 was my 22nd birthday, if you want to see where my seats were, just watch the tape of the end of the game, I’m holding a sign that reads “House of Blues,” my creative attempt of a double play on the Mariner’s colors and how the Yankees were feeling.
What I remember most about that game is after the 10th inning, wanting it to be over, for better or worse. The stress it was causing me was indescribable, and I just wanted it over, it had been a great run and I was ready for it to end… After Griffey rounded third and was pig-piled, I was right in line to see his big-white toothy grin from under the pile. I kid you not, my legs buckled, I knelt on the dirty box-seat metal and wept. That’s it. One of, if not, the most single happy moment of my life. Happy birthday to me.
By Shane Savery