Over the years, I've been privy to a lot of great moments in sports.

I remember watching the 1987 NCAA Championship on the family room floor with my Dad, watching as Keith Smart drilled a dagger through the Orange hearts of everyone in upstate NY.

I was at Rich Stadium on a grey January day in 1992 when the Bills came back from a 35-3 deficit in the second half against Houston in what's often described as the greatest comeback in NFL history.

3 months later, I was at Mike Snyder's house nervously working up the gumption to ask a girl I liked to junior prom as Christian Laettner took a Hail Mary pass, spun around and nailed a jumper in the paint.

I was in SkyDome on a cool evening in 1993 as Joe Carter's home run sailed into the Toronto night, giving the Jays a World Series title.

In 1998, I celebrated my 23rd birthday on a cold day at Wrigley Field. Some Texan kid fresh up from Triple A struck out 20 batters.

Oh and I've suffered, too. Wide right in 1991. No goal in 1999. Second place in the Central, 2001-present.

But through thick and thin, I've never seen such a display of blood, sweat and teamwork as that put on by the Fighting Illini last night. I don't think I've ever yelled as much, jumped as much, or scared my dog as much. In the age of me-first basketball, the Illini decided (almost too late) to play like a team and knock off Arizona.

I'll be damned if I can remember who scored the most points on the 20-5 run down the stretch, or who hit the shots beyond the arc in OT.

But I'll always remember where I was.