My story about overcoming adversity may seem a bit silly to some. Afterall, I didn't battle handicap or prejudice to acheive my goals, and admittedly, what I overcame was far less an challenge than many others, who deserve far more praise than myself. But I'm sure my little story will resonate with many baseball fans across the world who feel the same as I felt back in 1996 - that the team I love is all that matters. As a 16 year old, die hard Yankees fan, getting tickets to the postseason was far more of a priority than grades or homework. Tickets for the divisional round of the MLB postseason were going on sale that week. Local ticket outlets would begin selling tickets all over the tri-state area and given this was only the second postseason appearance for the Yankees in many years, certainly, I was just one of thousands and thousands hoping to get the privilege of visiting Yankees Stadium in October. My plan was set. I'd feign sickness at the onset of History class, have my mother pick me up, and then go join the line seven hours before tickets would go on sale. I watched the clock anxiously, not paying any attention to the words coming out of the teacher's mouth. Then the call from the office came. When I got to the outlet, a video store, there were already 4 or 5 people on line. It was a reality check for me that there were people out there as committed as I. Clearly though, these people were smarter than myself. I had been so caught up withsimply evading school that day, that I hadn't considered any other preparations. As the line grew over the course of the day, every person that showed up had a chair to sit in, food, something to read or entertain themselves with, or all of the above. Myself? I had nothing. Nada. Just myself, my will, and my hope. Luckily, once my buddies got out of class, they brought me a few snacks. (And no, they didn't stay with me. They dropped the snacks off and left. I was really taking one for the team here.). At one point, a quite sriking blonde haired chick had joined the line next to me. It seemed like I could leverage this opportunity into perhaps also getting a date. Of course, there was that continued problem of me being unskilled and awkward. Instead, I ended up spilling my soda all over her. Oops. Anyway, the time finally came that tickets went on sale. The waiting had nearly drove me mad. People filed into the shop very slowly. The frontrunners began walking out with their tickets in hand and a smile on their faces. But these same people also commented that their seats were up in the nosebleeds despite transacting literally less than 5 minutes after tickets had gone on sale. I was in a panic. I knew my window of opportunity was short. It would crush me to walk up to that counter to be told tickets were sold out. Literally, there would be no more reason to live. It was my turn. My heat raced. Walking to the counter is a blur now some 17 years later. What I will never forget though is walking out of that store with my Game 1 tickets in hand and the feeling of joy that would last for days and days. By the way, two more people got tickets after me that day before tickets officially sold out. The Yankees would end up losing that Game 1. A bit depressing, but it didn't matter. The fact was, we were there. We were in the Stadium. We felt was it was like. For anyone that has been at a Yankees postseason game, or at a postseason game for their favorite team, you know what I mean. Besides, the Yankees would end up winning that series and then go on to win their first World Champship in 18 years thanks to a miracle Game 4 home run and a pitching performance for the ages in Game 5. But that moment is a another story for another day.