“I was in tears when I sent the text to you that the Nuggets had won. I realized what it would have meant to my dad, and how much he would have enjoyed seeing it.”

The text was sent to me by my friend, Jim Richmond, on the Monday night that Denver’s entry into the NBA had, after 47 years in the league, won it all. Playoff gold.

Richmond had to say goodbye to his father a little over a year ago, and the emotions that overcame him were similar to mine as I walked back onto the softball field at Two Rivers Park after watching the final 14 seconds of the game from a cell phone. I was the umpire that night and we stopped the softball game so everyone could watch history for just a wrinkle in time. Though the celebration could not compare to what was to transpire in downtown Denver hours later, everyone was understandably excited. We concluded the game and I drove home lamenting the fact that I chose to umpire rather than watch what may have been a once in a lifetime occurrence.

I debated the entire day of the Nuggets game five with Miami if I should just call in sick to my boss at the City of Glenwood, but I ultimately decided I needed to show up for my job. My mind was not at the park all night long, and since I’m a below average umpire to begin with, I did a somewhat less than stellar job.

I embraced the Denver Nuggets, or I guess I should say the Denver Rockets, from the time I was in grade school and I used to defy my mom’s orders at bedtime to turn out the lights and do the same with our old Philco radio. With my brothers and sisters all off to college, I was the sole occupant of the spacious and somewhat spooky upstairs of our two-story house at 724 Bennett Avenue. Throughout my boyhood, I was convinced that each evening, I was going to be a goner at the hands of either Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolfman, or the Mummy. I watched way too many horror movies in my youth, but that’s a story for another time.

Obeying one command, the lights went out, but the incomparable voice of KOA radio’s Bob Martin would fade in and out as I turned the volume just high enough so only I could hear the Rockets of the old American Basketball Association playing another home game at the venerable downtown Auditorium Arena.

The names of Byron Beck, Spencer Haywood, and Larry Cannon will be forever etched in my memory as Martin’s play by play described the action against teams like the Kentucky Colonels, Virginia Squires, Spirits of St. Louis, Utah Stars, and Dallas Chaparrals. And who could ever forget that red, white, and blue basketball and a guy named Dr. J. I had one of those balls as a kid, and I wore it out at the basket across the street from our house, dreaming that one day I would be able to shoot as good as Kentucky’s three-point ace Louie Dampier.

When I was in junior high school, the Rockets became the Nuggets and I got to see my first professional basketball game at the Auditorium Arena when Denver hosted the Indiana Pacers in game 7 of the ABA conference finals. It was standing room only in the 6,800-seat Arena, and I was forced to watch in disbelief as the Pacers Big George McGinnis dropped 30 points on the Nuggets and sent all of Denver’s faithful fans home for the season. I rode back to Glenwood that day with my brother-in-law Rudy Steele and we both agreed we had been treated to an epic day in a place that I still refer to as basketball’s holiest cathedral. The Auditorium Arena hosted the Democratic National Convention in 1908 and was the home to almost all of the Denver Prep League high school games in the 60’s and 70’s. I was fortunate enough to get to play there four times at the state tourney while in high school. The Arena is long gone, but my memories of that wonderful old building will never fade.

The summer after my 8th grade year, I got to go to the Denver Nuggets camp with my friend Glenn Samuelson. I met Coach Larry Brown and a young draftee out of North Carolina State named David Thompson. Thompson could jump so high, he was nicknamed the “Skywalker.” He was the Michael Jordan of my time and he led the Nuggets to many successful seasons.

Living in Greeley my freshman year of college, I attended over half of the Nuggets home games. I would go down to the Sears ticket outlet in town, get the $5 end balcony seat, and drive my yellow slug bug the one hour down the turnpike to Denver. I sat up in the balcony for the first quarter, all the while scoping out vacant seats in the high-dollar sections below. I most often was able to avoid the ushers so I could sit in the lap of luxury seats for the rest of the evening and enjoy the game. I would always stop and get a Whopper with cheese and listen to the postgame show on KOA on the way back home. What an evening, and I was young. You can’t beat that!

I could fill this entire sports section with Nuggets memories but I guess I will always regret that I missed the team’s biggest moment and the biggest memory. I know how I felt that evening at not watching the game, but who knows, maybe there will be a replay next spring. If there is, I guarantee you I will not be at the softball field!

Goodbye, Charlotte

Charlotte: I picked you up at the Rifle Shelter just shy of thirteen years ago and you brightened each of my days from that point on. No one wanted a mostly deaf, three-legged cat with a chronic sinus infection, but you were no trouble at all. Everywhere I went, you were sure to follow.

I will always miss you, but I know the two people who loved you as much as me are once again looking after you. I’ll see you again, and yes, you are beautiful just like I always said. You rest easy and be at peace until I can have you on my lap again.