I was born days before Bucky Dent adoped "bleepin'" as his middle name. Perhaps it was that lazy fly ball that broke millions of Bostonians's hearts and nearly got my father thrown out of a hospital in suburban New York that sealed my destiny as a lifelong sports fan. But, more likely, it was probably the hundreds of sunny afternoons and summer evenings I spent with my dad at Yankee Stadium, the Sunday morning's that always began with bagels and the question "who's the 1 and who's the 4?" or the kneeling with my dad infront of the TV as those last few seconds rolled off the clock on June 14, 1994 and then watching as Mark Messier came and got his Stanley Cup. Those moments, and countless others from my youth, are what make me today, even with all the pressures of adulthood that I knew nothing of then, still love everything about sports. For three hours, or even for an inning, there's something connecting me back to those moments.

Now adays I'm your typical suburban dad living in the suburbs of St. Louis. I have a lovely wife, a gorgeous daughter, a dog and 5 cats. I'm a technology executive for a company back in New York.