The James Jones catch in 1982. Partly because of the experience and memory I have of it.
That was my Freshman year at Florida and my father had driven up from Palm Beach for the game, but he didn't have a ticket. We figured we'd get one outside of the stadium. But after all kinds of hustling, begging, and running back-and-forth in the parking lots, no ticket was still to be found at kick-off time. It was literally impossible to get in. The game was super-hyped and everyone was anticipating it for a long time.
My dad told me to go ahead on in and I gave him my section number, which happened to be right directly above the end line at the Northeast corner of the field, just in case a miracle happens and he somehow gets a ticket. Seven minutes into the first quarter, I'm sitting there with my buddies, pretty dejected that my father came all that way just to not get in, when all of a sudden we see the visage of my dad trudging up the stairs toward us. We squeeze him in and witness an absolutely epic game with an amazing finish. With time running out in the fourth quarter and against a furious rush of Hurricane defenders Wayne Peace threw a desperate, high-arching pass to Jones, who caught it one-handed on a stumbling back-peddle as he slides across the old astro-turf into the end zone directly in front of our seats.
How did my father get in? Well dad - being dad - recognized an opportunity when he saw it and seized it. An ice truck was driving in and he jumped on the back with a bunch of workers in uniforms. He must've looked completely out of place with his sans-a-belt slacks and golf shirt. A cop pointed at him, he pointed to the guy next to him, the guy next to him pointed to his supervisor, and the rest, as they say, is history, or a very special memory for me. By the time the supervisor realized what was happening the truck had already gotten far enough into the stadium and my dad had hopped off and sprinted toward the stands.