In Fantastic Moments, He Finds Fan Within

Somehow I rediscovered the reason again. Even in this year that offered so many excuses to abandon it.

It was, to borrow one of my all-time favorite sports quotes, “deep down inside, behind my heart, behind all the arteries and stuff.”

For reference, that’s where Kordell Stewart said his confidence was buried after he fumbled at the goal line with his Colorado team trailing Michigan by 12 points and five minutes left in their classic 1994 football game.

Stewart’s belief was justified. His team came back to take that game in such memorable fashion, scoring the winning touchdown when he rocketed a 64-yard pass that was tipped into the hands of Michael Westbrook on the final play.

On the plane ride home the next day I overheard a conversation between two guys seated behind me. One was a Colorado graduate, the other went to Michigan. Even the Michigan alum had to admit it was an amazing game.

The Colorado alumnus said he went to his alma mater’s football games every Saturday. He said that for those three hours--this was back when nationally televised games could be completed in three hours--it was his escape from the real world and all its problems.

I couldn’t relate. In this line of work, game time is my problem. Although it’s the best part of the job, it can also be the most pressure-packed. Sometimes deadline looms and I have no idea who will win, who will be the hero or the goat but that doesn’t change the fact I have to have 22 inches written by 10:30 p.m.

The irony of having what’s considered a dream job by so many sports fans is it can drive out the very passion that led you into this career in the first place.

It’s unprofessional to cheer in the press area. After a while it starts to get undesirable too. Having to watch without a vested interest for game after game has a numbing effect. You’re only rooting for the clock to reach 0:00 as soon as possible.

The stories that flash across our screens don’t always make it easier. At the conclusion of every year it gets tougher and tougher to figure out what’s good in the world of sports.

We thought it couldn’t get any wackier than it did in 1994, with Tonya and Nancy and O.J.’s Bronco chase, yet somehow it always gets worse and more depressing.

This year brought us Rae Carruth, hiding in the trunk of his car to evade arrest after his pregnant girlfriend was murdered. And a little item in Friday’s paper might be the most bizarre story yet: A police officer in Harrisburg, Pa., was accused of paying a 10-year-old Little League pitcher $2 to hit an opposing batter.

And 1999 brought the news that we had to say goodbye to the careers of Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, John Elway, Steffi Graf and Charles Barkley. Plus the passings of Wilt Chamberlain, Joe DiMaggio, Walter Payton and Payne Stewart.

With more sports available than ever before, it seems as if there’s less reason to watch.

We’re subjected to rampant mediocrity in the professional ranks and collegiate teams that are weakened by early departures for the pros.

Why are people still willing to pay outrageous prices to see this stuff?

But then there are those moments that yank me right back into the sports world. The times when the greatest concern becomes how to put these incredible feats into words that do them justice.

There were a few that I was fortunate enough to cover this year.

A guy named Wally (I won’t type his last name as a Christmas gift to the copy editors) taking Miami of Ohio and its likable coach to the Sweet 16 of the NCAA tournament, one year after Coach Charlie Coles suffered a heart attack.

Watching Andre Agassi bring out the best in this era’s best tennis player, Pete Sampras.

The wonder, the joy, the talent that is Serena Williams.

The Sacramento Kings-Utah Jazz series in the first round of the NBA playoffs. What basketball ought to be: dramatic and entertaining, played in arenas with loud fans who sit close to the court.

Tony Gwynn’s 3,000th hit, an exceptional milestone for one of the nicest people in the sports world.

And then there was the moment that topped them all.

It came on the 17th hole at the Country Club in Brookline, Mass., on the final day of the Ryder Cup.

Justin Leonard had a 45-foot putt that could clinch the U.S. team’s unprecedented comeback from a four-point deficit. The sheer drama of it overwhelmed everyone. All of the rancor of the summer-long debate over players’ compensation for the tournament disappeared. Leonard’s history of poor performances in the Ryder Cup--including the earlier stages of this one--faded to the background. It was all about this putt.

It wasn’t until a short while later that I realized I cleared every other thought out of my mind as well. Every personal issue I had to deal with--and believe me, there were a lot of them this year--vanished. For the time it took the ball to get from Leonard’s putter to the cup, all that mattered in the world was whether or not it went in.

That’s the power of sports. Somehow it gets us to care about things that have no direct impact on our lives. It gets us to care so much that we’ll do anything and spend anything to be there.

On the way back to the clubhouse at the Ryder Cup, ESPN’s Jimmy Roberts said it was the greatest sporting moment he had ever witnessed, and we started talking about what others ranked in our top five.

I thought back to that Kordell Stewart-to-Michael Westbrook pass. I thought about what the man from Colorado said on the airplane the next day.

I finally understood what he meant.

The love had returned. I could once again see sports as an escape, not just a duty.

As they say in golf, it’s that one good shot that keeps you coming back.

J.A. Adande can be reached at his e-mail address: j.a.adande@latimes.com.