Every time I walk through the hallway that connects the living room to my bedroom, I always glance at the same photo on top of a file cabinet standing guard nearby. The photo of my family at Game 6 of the 2002 World Series in Angel Stadium (then called the Edison Field of Anaheim) is one of my favorite photos because it takes me back to that magical night, drops me into a seat, hands me a pair of “Thunder Sticks,” and inevitably puts a smile on my face. Just a quick glance and I’m back. But of course, that’s nothing special. All photos capture moments and make them easier to remember. What makes this photo different is the power of the feelings that it captured, that it makes me feel and re-live those feelings every time I see it, and most importantly, that it does the same thing for the three people closest to me.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve seen the picture so many times or because it was such a powerful and memorable experience (probably a bit of both), but I can easily recall the picture by memory. We stood with our arms around each other’s shoulders – Dad, myself, Mom, and my younger brother from left-to-right – in the Upper View section, and the meticulously manicured infield and Right Field line shone below us. We were dressed completely in red. We didn’t own any red Angels gear then (the team had just switched from their primarily blue uniforms that season) so we wore the reddest clothes we could find. I was wearing a new hat that I had just bought at the start of my freshman year in High School. My dad was holding a pair of the “Yes We Can” Thunder Sticks they gave to all 45,000 fans in the stadium. And it was loud. Everyone but me had white cotton balls in their ears because it was so loud. The game was about to begin.
Although we were all smiling when that photo was taken, we wouldn’t be for long. The Giants scored 3 runs in the 5th, added another in the 6th, and another in the 7th. The Giants led the series 3 games to 2, meaning a victory would make them World Series Champions. I was about as depressed as you could possibly be. I remember feeling a stabbing pain in my stomach like I hadn’t eaten in days.
The Angels came to bat in the bottom of the 7th down 5 to 0. One quick out. I wanted to leave. Troy Glaus singled. Then Brad Fulmer. The Rally Monkey, the Angels loveable mascot, came hopping onto the DiamondVision. Thousands of fans stood up and started cheering, swinging stuffed monkeys above their heads. I was almost too depressed to notice, but I knew I had an obligation to root for my team, and I started to cheer along with them.
Then the impossible happened. Scott Spiezio hit a 3-run home run down the Right Field line, the same Right Field line captured behind us in the picture. I’ve never yelled louder, jumped higher, or slapped as many hi-fives with complete strangers. And neither had my parents nor my brother. The home run sparked a rally, and the Angels would eventually win the game 6-5. The comeback was the largest in World Series history for an elimination game. They would go on to win Game 7 as well; becoming the first World Series Champions in franchise history.
Meaningful photos allow us to re-live powerful events. Photos capture moments and create a tangible experience. But perhaps most important, is that you can share that experience with others. Photos have an amazing power to strengthen bonds between people. Every time I pass the photo on the file cabinet on my way from the living room to my bedroom, I remember the joy, wonder, depression, shock, and amazement of that incredible night. I also remember that every time my family passes that photo, they feel it too. And inevitably, I smile.
