Thanks for 1998. For helping my senior year of high school be that much more special. For letting me and my Dad go to all the games together one more year before I went to college and his back betrayed him, and letting us see you come home a winner every single time. For that moment in Tempe when some guy I barely knew grabbed me and told me through tears that he'd been waiting his whole life for this, and that I was only 17 and I'd better appreciate it.
Thanks for making Tennessee good enough that I can lay here at 12:49 AM and write about them, and that enough people care enough about them to read it.