It was December 5, 1998. Shawn and I drove to St. Louis' TWA Dome to watch our Wildcats play Texas A&M in the Big 12 Championship Game. We were sophomores.
St. Louis, as usual, looked like garbage.
The A&M band, as usual, made shapes with themselves.
After K-State took a 17-3 lead, the arena announced Miami's upset of UCLA. We all cheered, knowing we were now in line to play in the national championship game. The scoreboard was photographed for posterity with my cheap camera. You'll have to trust me when I tell you it read Miami 49, UCLA 45.
Then we fumbled and stuff, and we lost in the second overtime.
Our group of friends drove to our shitty motel and ate terrible food at the Shoney's next door and everybody felt like shit for, like, the next year or the rest of our lives or so.