“Only a miracle could save the Bears!”

Too right was Joe Starkey as he made this remark during the 1982 game between the California Golden Bears and the Stanford Cardinals.

John Elway had just led Stanford from its own 13-yard line into California territory. Stanford managed a 35-yard field goal with just four seconds left to go up 20-19.

With one play left, Starkey began giving accolades to the Cardinals for that brilliant game-winning drive. But there was, of course, one more play — a kickoff return that would come to be known as “The Play.”

The Stanford players celebrated their field goal, and Starkey knew that it would take something special to change the outcome of “The Big Game.”

As much as I appreciate moments like “The Play,” they are not complete without a holistic understanding of the situation. There is a story behind every play and every moment. In a vacuum, we can only appreciate a great moment on a superficial level. But what we really love, what we keep coming back to see, is the humanity of sports.

Making a turnaround jumper from the free-throw line while double-covered is impressive. But when Christian Laettner makes that shot as time expires to win an Elite Eight game against Kentucky, it takes on new meaning.

Any home run is impressive. But, as you know if you’ve ever seen it replayed, Kirk Gibson’s home run in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series is something more.

“All year long, they looked to him to light the fire and all year long, he answered the demands, until he was physically unable to start tonight,” Vin Scully said as Gibson trudged out to the plate.

Gibson played with a knee injury for a good chunk of the postseason, and just before the World Series, he pulled the hamstring in his other leg. Virtually incapacitated, he was benched and spent most of Game 1 in the locker room with a bag of ice on each knee.

Gibson listened as his team entered the ninth inning down 4-3 to the Athletics. Before long, the Dodgers found themselves with a man on base but with two outs.

Enter Gibson. Hobbling into the dugout, he somehow convinced manager Tommy Lasorda to let him pinch hit. Unable to favor either leg, Gibson didn’t so much limp as stagger out to face Dennis Eckersly, one of the greatest closers in history. Eckersly threw two quick strikes to go ahead in the count.

The odds were against the Dodgers.

The wiley Gibson, though, worked the count to 3-2. With a man on, the game was at the plate. Fate rested squarely on Gibson’s shoulders.

On CBS radio, Jack Buck had the call.

“We have a big 3–2 pitch coming here from Eckersley. Gibson swings and a fly ball to deep right field! This is gonna be a home run! Unbelievable! A home run for Gibson! And the Dodgers have won the game, 5 to 4; I don’t believe what I just saw! I don’t believe what I just saw!”

Mark Twain once said, “Truth is stranger than fiction. But it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; truth isn’t.”

Sports do not always stick to possibilities. Case in point: the men’s 4-by-100-meter freestyle relay at the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

Coming into the race, the French team was heavily favored to take gold.

“It’s going to take a lot, realistically, for the United States to [beat] France,” Dan Hicks remarked prior to the race.

“How many times have I broken this down, Dan, over the last two weeks? Every time I do it, it comes out France,” Rowdy Gaines said to Hicks.

When asked before the race, the French said, “The Americans? We are going to smash them.”

The race went as expected for the first three legs. French team captain Alain Bernard, who set a world record in the 100-meter freestyle earlier in the Games, then dove in for the last leg with a half-body length lead.

Following him into the pool was veteran Jason Lezak — the American anchor. To avoid the cheap pun by calling him washed up, I’ll just say that Lezak was past his prime.

“I just don’t think they can do it, Dan,” Gaines said during the first 50 meters. “I mean, Jason Lezak has been there. How many times in his career has he anchored this free relay and medley relay? But I just don’t think he can do it.”

By the time they made the turn, Bernard had extended his lead to almost a full-body length.

“The United States is trying to hang onto second,” Hicks said.

Lezak was simply outclassed in a race in which he started off already trailing. But out of nowhere, Lezak started to gain ground.

“Lezak is closing a little bit on Bernard!” Hicks broke off with 25 meters left. “Can the veteran chase him down and pull off a shocker here?”

“There is no doubt that [Bernard] is tightening up!” Gaines responded.

The swimmers reached the 15-meter mark, neck and neck.

“Here comes Lezak! Unbelievable at the end! He’s done it! The U.S. has done it!”

I’m not sure what was going on underwater. I just know that it came down to a touch, and when the results came back, America was first.

“He did it! He did it! He did it!” was all Gaines could scream.

Lezak managed a 46.06 time — history’s fastest 100-meter relay split — when it was needed most.

Some of my favorite parts of great sporting moments involve commentators’ reactions. They help encapsulate the emotion and drama of an event.

Joe Starkey has a flair for providing that human reaction. He called the 1998 Wild Card showdown between the 49ers and the Packers on the radio. The game was sloppy and went back and forth — coming down to one final play.

San Francisco had the ball on the Green Bay 25-yard line. With eight seconds left, the Packers led 27-23. The 49ers needed a touchdown.

“They will finish this thing off in historic fashion,” Starkey said. “Well, it’s all or nothing now.”

San Francisco was 0-5 against Green Bay. In fact, San Francisco had been sent home in the postseason for three consecutive years by Green Bay prior to their 1998 Wild Card matchup. Quarterback Steve Young, his coach Steve Mariucci and the rest of the 49ers had a monkey to get off their backs.

“So Rice goes out to the left. If you want to take crack, maybe he’s the guy you should go for.”

Prior to the final drive, Young only had thrown for 93 yards. He finished the game 18-32, having thrown two interceptions. But wide receiver Terrell Owens’ day was worse by far. Owens fumbled the ball once and dropped four passes — including one when he was wide open in the red zone.

“Young almost falls down,” Starkey noted as the quarterback stumbled away from his offensive line after taking the snap. “Throws to the end zone!”

Even without considering TO’s poor play that day, wide receiver Jerry Rice was the obvious go-to guy. Rice was in his prime and one of the best receivers. Owens was inexperienced and had yet to reach his potential.

Nevertheless, when Young’s pass was caught by a 49er amid three Packers and immediately clobbered, the call came back:

“Owens! Owens! Owens! Owens! Owens! Owens!”

Yes, he said it six times — one for every ball Owens dropped that day.

“He caught it! He caught it! He caught it! 25-yard touchdown pass! Terrell Owens!”

The 49er bench cleared. Owens was on the ground in the fetal position, holding onto the ball — as if he didn’t want to let it go. Some of his teammates piled on top of him.

“He hasn’t held on to anything, including his fingers, all day and he makes the winning touchdown catch! I don’t believe it! One of the greatest finishes in 49er history! Somehow. Some way. Owens right down the middle! The coverage was there. He had very little room. The ball had to be perfect. It was! He caught it! ‘Niners will win it! ‘Niners will win it!”

I still get goosebumps watching that play. And Starkey’s call is the absolute perfect backdrop.

It was 16 years before this that Starkey was calling “The Big Game.”

With four seconds left, Stanford kicked off to California.

“All right, here we go with the kickoff. Harmon will probably try to squib it and he does. The ball comes loose and the Bears have to get out of bounds.”

Down one point, a field goal would win the game for the Golden Bears. But they either couldn’t or didn’t want to get out of bounds to stop the clock.

“Rodgers is along the sideline, another one … They’re still in deep trouble at midfield, they tried to do a couple of …”

I’m guessing Starkey meant to say ‘laterals’ but was distracted because he thought — like almost everyone else — that the game was finished. It looked as if a huge melee had resulted in a Bear getting tackled.

But nah.

“The ball is still loose as they get it to Rodgers! They get it back now to the 30, they’re down to the 20 …”

Many sports analysts say that even without the miraculous kickoff return that has become so iconic in football, the 1982 Cal-Stanford game would have been one of the best of all time. It was the last game of the regular season. Postseason implications were on the line. The intense rivalry had been back and forth, capped with a dramatic comeback in the final seconds. Well, not THE final seconds. But it was a fateful calamity and Starkey’s subsequent exclamation for which the game has come to be remembered.

“Oh, the band is out on the field!”

The Stanford musicians began to pour onto the turf, celebrating what it thought was the end of the game. But play continued.

“He’s gonna go into the end zone! He’s gone into the end zone!”

Knocking over a trombone player in the process.

“Will it count? The Bears have scored, but the bands are out on the field! There were flags all over the place.”

For several nervous seconds, the officials discussed the outcome. Players were yelling, bands were on the field — the entire stadium was in a frenzy.

“We’ve heard no decision yet. Everybody is milling around on the field — AND THE BEARS!”

Starkey’s lid came off mid-sentence as an official signaled the touchdown would count.

“THE BEARS HAVE WON! The Bears have won! Oh, my God! The most amazing, sensational, dramatic, heart-rending … exciting, thrilling finish in the history of college football! California has won the Big Game over Stanford! Oh, excuse me for my voice, but I have never, never seen anything like it in the history of I have ever seen any game in my life! The Bears have won it!”

It was, in fact, a miracle that saved the Bears. I’m not sure how Starkey came up with so many descriptors on the spot like that. Him losing his voice, though, that’s what I remember most. So stirring was the play he just saw, he yelled himself hoarse on air.

In this column, I wanted to share a glimpse into only a few of the moments that I feel show what sports are truly about. There are thousands of them and often they are different for each person — after all, being different is part of what makes us human.

It’s a wonder to see Starkey, 16 years after Cal-Stanford, still blown away by the great win the 49ers had in 1998. That, like life’s most unexpected moments, is what unscripted drama provides. Sports don’t get old. They don’t get boring or formulaic or overdone.

As long as sports give us the unexpected, the incredible and the seemingly impossible, they bring out the emotions that make us what we are.