Just a few years ago I was sitting in the United Center watching the White Sox play game four of the World Series. When Juan Uribe caught the ground ball and rifled the ball to first I lost control. I yelled like a ten year old girl for a few seconds. Here for the first time seen by anyone but myself is the video that I took that night. It starts just before Juan dives into the stands, and ends when I am shaking so bad I had to put the camera down. I am not a man who cries. At my grandparents funerals I never cried. Is it wrong then that I get choked up every time I watch this video? I think priorities are in the wrong place. That night is still a special night for me. It was amazing how every one came together. Just after the out you can see me high five a mother and child who I befriended that night. I think that I said something about getting a high five, but what comes out is gibberish. A kid who grew up across the street from me with no sports ambitions whatsoever, and ended up moving over an hour away was sitting just in front of me. My team ended a long drought to win the World Series. I hope I can feel this way again sometime.
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