Game 6 is a painful memory for me, quite literally. I'd actually seen game two in Shea, where Gooden got hammered by the Sox 9-2. My girlfriend (she wouldn't become my wife until 3 1/2 years later), who worked for Doubleday Publishing at the time, had tickets to games 2 and 6. My nephew was being christened in Toronto on October 25th, so I went to game 2 and she took her Dad to game 6. That Saturday evening found me in the basement of my sister's house in Toronto. It was a very old house, all wood and stucco. My sister had no interest, so my brother-in-law (a big Jays fan) and I went down to the basement to watch. He was mildly on the side of the American League, and as the game progressed he started teasing me with portents of doom. After the Sox went up 5-3, he asked me if I wanted to turn it off. I said no, I'm gonna stick it out to the end. After two out in the bottom of the 10th, I told him to click it off the minute they lost because I didn't want to see the Red Sox celebrating. His finger was on the button, ready to press. But then a single, and another and another, and his finger eased away from the off button. When the ball went through Buckner's legs I leaped up high off the couch...... .....and cracked my skull on one of the foot-wide basement crossbeams. [u:croilowr]Hard.[/u:croilowr] So hard that my sister came downstairs to see what had happened, and hard enough that my brother-in-law thought he'd have to take me to the hospital. I fell back on the couch, looking at the celebration through one eye, my head throbbing. I iced it the whole night. Meanwhile, back at Shea, in the bottom of the 10th, my wife started crying with two outs. Her father said she shouldn't give up so easily. And damned if he wasn't right. It happened so fast, and it was so loud, that she couldn't fully appreciate it until she saw the videotape of it later. So a weird night all around for us. We watched game 7 in her apartment that Monday night, with a whole lot less drama.